Gospel according to Saint Matthew 16:21-27:
Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.”

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? Or what can one give in exchange for his life? For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct.”

The cross that purifies and shapes our hearts

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, August 30, 2026 | XXII Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jer 20: 7-9; Rom 12: 1-2; Mt 16: 21-27

When reading today’s Gospel passage, it is easy for our attention to be drawn first and foremost to Peter’s reaction and Christ’s response. But surely, we should not lose sight of the beginning of this episode, which starts with a moving act of trust on the part of the Master:

Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly there at the hands of the senators, high priests, and scribes, and that he must be put to death and rise again on the third day.

No doubt he could foresee the reaction and astonishment of the impetuous Peter, but the important thing is that, despite everything—despite the fact that this announcement was difficult to accept—Christ decided to share with his disciples everything that lay ahead for him.

This teaches us something characteristic of what we today call the Spirit of the Gospel, of Jesus’ way of being: his total and explicit trust in those who were by his side—not because of the virtues or talents they possessed, not because they would understand everything he was conveying to them, but because of the certainty that this display of intimacy would gradually open their hearts to the divine will.

In fact, today’s reading could be summarized as follows: I am going to the cross; if anyone truly wishes to follow me, let them do the same. Jesus does not speak of the value and importance of suffering, but rather sets out to be the first to endure what is truly necessary for the conversion and salvation of each and every one of us.

The Romans had many ways of carrying out the death penalty, but the cross was often associated with treason, military uprisings, terrorism, or crimes that had led to bloodshed—that is, when someone was particularly violent, they were punished with equal violence. In many cases, it was a slow death, resulting from multiple organ failure. Christ did not take several days to die, as was the case with many condemned prisoners, likely due to the severe blood loss from the flogging he had suffered earlier.

In this way, Christ made it clear that he was offering his entire life, including his reputation, remaining absolutely faithful to what is made clear in the Gospel: No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (Jn 15:13). That love does not consist in solving all of one’s friends’ problems, nor in sharing many moments or activities; nor even in giving up all one’s possessions and all one’s time for the good of others. It is giving one’s own life, which the cross symbolizes unequivocally.

The cross, which was placed in a spot clearly visible to all, also tells us that giving one’s life completely becomes an indisputable witness—whether to a few or to many, sooner or later—but it always stands as a sublime proof of boundless love.

—ooOoo—

A few days ago, one of the superstar athletes at the World Cup excitedly recounted how his dad worked 12 hours a day at a warehouse and he could only see him when he came home. Then, without resting, he would rush to take his son to practice so he could keep dreaming of becoming a champion—which is exactly what happened. This soccer player said he’d had excellent coaches, but no one had taught him as much as his beloved dad, who would sometimes doze off in the stands—exhausted from the long day—waiting for practice to end so he could take him out for dinner.

It wasn’t until years later that he learned his dad had had a simple hobby since he was a young man: playing dominoes with his group of friends after work. When his dad died, his son found a box at the back of the closet containing the dominoes that… were almost brand-new.

This heartwarming story can help us understand what our cross is. Christ tells us today what it means to lose one’s life for Him—not simply because of the illnesses, setbacks, and hardships that life imposes on us. Like that soccer player’s father, it’s about continually looking toward the beloved—Christ and our neighbor—while we devote our efforts to them… even when sleep sometimes overcomes us. Yet nothing—neither the world nor our own soul—can distract us from the service that gives meaning to our lives.

It is one thing to endure the suffering that every human being must face—sometimes in a way that is overwhelming, or worthy of emulation—and quite another to look from the Cross, like Jesus, toward the Father and our loved ones, who in his case were represented by Mary and Saint John.

The cross is neither an accident nor an obstacle on the spiritual path. Every human being needs complete security in their loving relationship; that is why a child cries, complains, and despairs until they feel their mother’s voice, embrace, caress, and face. Taking up the cross, for you and for me, means something very concrete and specific in relation to our neighbor—a true covenant that not only unites us but also opens both our hearts to trust in and submit to the will of our heavenly Father.

There is a literary character whose story reveals, with extraordinary clarity, the human need for complete security in love. This character is Heathcliff, from Wuthering Heights, the famous novel written by Emily Brontë in 1847.

He shows us what happens when the human heart does not receive the emotional security it needs and how his entire life is marked by that lack.

Heathcliff arrives in a family as an abandoned child—nameless, without origins, without a sense of belonging. His heart is born into a world without emotional support. The only security he finds is Catherine: she is his home, his identity, his refuge. For Heathcliff, Catherine is not just a romantic love; she is the only certainty in his existence. She is the one who recognizes him, affirms him, and gives him a place in the world.

When Catherine decides to marry another man, Heathcliff experiences an inner rupture similar to that of a child who loses his only emotional anchor. He does not merely lose the woman he loves; he loses the only security he had to exist.

His life becomes a desperate attempt to recover that lost sense of security. Thus, he becomes cruel, more out of emotional desperation than out of malice. His violence stems from a heart that never had a safe place to rest. This brilliant novel shows that without emotional security, love turns into possession, desire turns into obsession, and, moreover, identity crumbles.

In his old age, Heathcliff confesses that his entire life has been a search for Catherine—not out of passion, but out of a deep need for security; thus, his death is an act of surrender: only in union with her—beyond life—does he find the security he never had.

In a similar way, if we bear all suffering in the name of Christ, it will be transformed into a cross, into security and redemption for our neighbor, who will be able to glimpse, in our limited and mediocre lives, what the love of God the Father is like.

—ooOoo—

Saint Ignatius of Antioch, who succeeded Saint Paul in leading the church in that city—located in what is now southern Turkey—had an experience very similar to that of the apostles. Christ revealed to him inwardly that he was to face martyrdom, and that revelation was a purification, transformation, and conforming of his heart, just as we see in today’s Gospel reading.

St. Irenaeus of Lyon says of him:

And for this reason, affliction is also necessary for those who are saved, so that some, having been torn apart and kneaded by patience with the Word of God and baked in the fire, may be worthy of the banquet of the Kingdom, as one of those condemned for bearing witness to God before the wild beasts said: “I am God’s wheat, and I am torn apart by the teeth of the wild beasts so that I may be found as the pure bread of God” (Adversus haereses).

Ignatius had already lived a life of self-sacrifice, full of difficulties and efforts to overcome the divisions and conflicts that plagued Christian communities, writing, exhorting, and serving everyone in a moving and tireless way. But what he had suspected deep down came to pass: more was asked of him—to go to Rome to die there, devoured by wild beasts, just as had happened in the time of Emperor Trajan, because of his courageous witness, which made both the powerful and sinners tremble.

Of course, he suffered anguish and dread that are hard to imagine, but he accepted that this way of offering his life would be even more fruitful than all his writings, full of fire and wisdom. Today, in the First Reading, Jeremiah also reveals how he was driven—unable to resist—to forfeit his reputation and live in constant danger of death, sustained by a grace that enabled him to see his mission through to the end. It is toward that very purification, transformation, and conforming of the heart that Saint Paul exhorts the Romans today:

Do not conform to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, so that you may discern what the will of God is—what is good, pleasing to Him, and perfect.

The world and “human” thinking lead us to false prudence, to the incomplete love that Peter felt when he tried to convince Christ not to go to Jerusalem. But the trust that Jesus shows us—and above all, his personal witness—reveals to us what is truly good, pleasing, and perfect in the sight of God the Father.

As the following chapter of Matthew shows, “six days later” the Master gave another sublime sign of trust to Peter, James, and John, making them witnesses to his Transfiguration. May we be attentive to the signs—both personally and as a community—that we receive of his unshakable assurance, so that we may continue to grow from true sinners into true saints.

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In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President