Have you ever been caught off guard by a question about your faith, leaving you feeling unprepared and uncertain? For years, engaging with missionaries at the doorstep felt precisely like that for me. Armed with a Bible but lacking deep scriptural knowledge, I often felt ill-equipped to articulate my Catholic beliefs. Explaining the nuances of Catholic doctrine using specific verses seemed like a daunting task. While my faith remained steadfast, I yearned for a stronger foundation to confidently discuss and defend it.
Then, a pivotal moment arrived – a simple yet profound piece of information that transformed my approach to these doorstep dialogues. It empowered me to engage in meaningful conversations and, more importantly, solidified my understanding of a cornerstone of Catholic teaching. This realization underscored that becoming adept at apologetics, the reasoned defense of faith, is indeed within reach for anyone willing to learn. Let me share what happened.
One afternoon, answering the doorbell, I encountered a Seventh-day Adventist missionary. He politely asked if he could “share” some biblical insights. Open to respectful discussion, I invited him to proceed. He embarked on a rapid-fire presentation, flipping through his Bible, quoting verses seemingly at random, attempting to highlight perceived discrepancies in Catholic doctrine and assert the superiority of his denomination’s interpretations.
Navigating Scriptural Disconnects
Some of the verses he cited were vaguely familiar, remnants of childhood religious education. I wasn’t entirely unversed in scripture, but many were completely new to me. Familiar or not, these isolated verses failed to resonate or provoke a meaningful response from me. My lack of deeper biblical literacy left me unable to effectively counter his arguments or articulate a coherent Catholic perspective. I was missing the context, the nuanced understanding needed for a fruitful discussion.
Then, he landed on Matthew 16:18. “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church.”
“Hold on,” I interjected, a newfound spark of recognition igniting within me. “I know this verse. This is where Jesus established Simon as the earthly head of His Church. This is where He appointed him the first Pope.” I paused, a confident smile spreading across my face. I anticipated his rebuttal, knowing from past experiences that a defense of the Catholic position was often unexpected in his door-to-door encounters. But I was ready.
“I understand your interpretation,” he responded, just as I’d expected, “but you Catholics misunderstand this verse due to a lack of Greek knowledge. That’s the fundamental flaw with your Church and its scholars. You don’t grasp the original language of the New Testament. To truly understand Matthew 16:18, we must delve into the Greek.”
“Is that so?” I inquired, playing along, feigning ignorance of the linguistic challenge he was about to present.
“Yes,” he affirmed, leaning into his explanation. “In Greek, the word for rock is petra, signifying a large, massive stone. However, the word used for Simon’s new name is different: Petros, which denotes a small stone, a pebble.”
At this juncture, the missionary’s explanation, while seemingly authoritative, veered into inaccuracies. Reputable Greek scholars, including non-Catholic experts, acknowledge that in first-century Koine Greek, the language of the New Testament, petros and petra were essentially synonyms. While a distinction between “small stone” and “large rock” existed in ancient Attic Greek poetry centuries prior to Christ, this differentiation had faded by the time Matthew’s Gospel was written in Koine Greek. The nuanced distinction he was attempting to draw was linguistically outdated and inapplicable to the context of the New Testament. If Jesus intended to call Simon a mere “pebble,” the Greek word lithos would have been the appropriate choice. His argument, therefore, betrayed a flawed understanding of Koine Greek. (For an Evangelical Protestant Greek scholar’s admission of this, see D. A. Carson, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984], Frank E. Gaebelein, ed., 8:368).
Alt text: A missionary stands at a front door, Bible in hand, ready to share his message.
“You Catholics,” he continued, “because of your unfamiliarity with Greek, mistakenly believe Jesus is equating Simon and the rock. In reality, it’s the opposite. He’s contrasting them. The rock upon which the Church is built is Jesus Himself, while Simon is merely an insignificant pebble, highlighting his inadequacy to be the foundation.”
“Well,” I responded, ready to deploy the insight I had recently acquired, “I agree wholeheartedly that we must look beyond the English and delve into the original languages.” He smiled, pleased with my apparent agreement, and nodded encouragingly. “But I’m sure you’ll also agree that to fully grasp Jesus’ words, we need to go even further back, behind the Greek, to the Aramaic.”
“The Aramaic?” he questioned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.
“Yes, the Aramaic,” I reiterated. “As you know, Aramaic was the everyday language spoken by Jesus, the apostles, and virtually all Jews in Palestine during that era. It was the common vernacular of the region.”
“I thought Greek was the prevalent language,” he countered, sounding less certain now.
“No,” I clarified. “While many, if not most, people in the region likely had some knowledge of Greek, given its status as the lingua franca of the Mediterranean world – the language of culture and commerce – Aramaic remained the primary spoken language in Palestine. The New Testament books were written in Greek primarily because they were intended for a wider audience, Christians not only in Palestine but also in centers like Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch, where Aramaic was not spoken.
“While most of the New Testament is in Greek, there’s compelling evidence suggesting that Matthew’s Gospel was initially written in Aramaic. Historical records from Eusebius of Caesarea support this. Though the Aramaic original is now lost, having been translated into Greek very early on, perhaps even by Matthew himself, the Aramaic context is crucial for understanding Jesus’ original words. Regrettably, none of the original manuscripts of any New Testament books survive today; we rely on early Greek copies.”
Unveiling the Aramaic Foundation
I continued to elaborate, “We know with certainty that Jesus spoke Aramaic. His very words, preserved in the Gospels, testify to this. Consider Matthew 27:46, where, on the cross, He cries out, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’ That’s not Greek; it’s Aramaic, meaning, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'”
“Furthermore,” I emphasized, “Paul’s epistles, specifically in Galatians and 1 Corinthians, repeatedly preserve the Aramaic form of Simon’s new name – eight times in total. In our English Bibles, this appears as Cephas. This isn’t a Greek word; it’s a transliteration of the Aramaic Kepha (Hellenized as Kephas).
“And what does Kepha mean?” I posed, pausing for emphasis. “It means ‘rock,’ precisely the same meaning as petra. It does not mean ‘little stone’ or ‘pebble.’ Therefore, what Jesus actually said to Simon in Matthew 16:18, in Aramaic, was this: ‘You are Kepha, and on this kepha I will build my Church.’ “
“Understanding the Aramaic reveals that Jesus was unequivocally equating Simon and the rock; He wasn’t drawing a contrast. This direct equivalence is evident in modern English translations that accurately render the verse as: ‘You are Rock, and upon this rock I will build my church.’ Interestingly, the French language has always used a single word, pierre, to represent both Simon’s new name and the rock itself, perfectly capturing the intended meaning.”
For a moment, the missionary seemed genuinely taken aback, his confident demeanor faltering. Then, a new line of reasoning dawned on him.
“Wait,” he interjected, “if kepha and petra are truly synonymous, why doesn’t the Greek text of Matthew 16:18 read, ‘You are Petra, and on this petra I will build my Church’? Why does Matthew employ Petros for Simon’s name if it supposedly carries a different meaning than petra?”
“Because grammatical nuances in Greek necessitate that choice,” I explained. “Greek and Aramaic possess distinct grammatical structures. In Aramaic, kepha works seamlessly in both instances in Matthew 16:18. However, Greek presents a challenge due to noun genders.
“Greek nouns are categorized as masculine, feminine, or neuter. Petra, the Greek word for ‘rock’ in the second part of the verse, is feminine. It fits perfectly grammatically in that context. However, you cannot give a man a feminine name – at least not in that cultural context. To use ‘rock’ as Simon’s new name in Greek, the ending needs to be changed to the masculine form. This yields Petros, which, conveniently, was already an existing Greek word also meaning ‘rock.'”
“Admittedly,” I continued, ” Petros is an imperfect rendering of the Aramaic Kepha in this context; some of the wordplay is inevitably lost in translation. In English, with ‘Peter’ and ‘rock,’ the play on words is entirely obscured. But Petros was the closest and most grammatically appropriate equivalent in Greek. It was the best possible translation to convey Jesus’ intended meaning.”
“Beyond the linguistic evidence,” I asserted, shifting the focus to the broader narrative, “the very structure of Matthew 16:15-19 refutes any attempt to diminish Peter’s significance in the Church. Consider the parallel structure. Peter makes a profound confession regarding Jesus’ identity, and in direct response, the Lord bestows a reciprocal declaration and blessing upon Peter. Jesus doesn’t say, ‘Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are an insignificant pebble, and on this rock, meaning myself, I will build my Church…’ That would be utterly incongruous with what follows. Instead, Jesus proceeds to bestow upon Peter a threefold blessing, culminating in the extraordinary gift of the keys to the kingdom. This is not an act of undermining authority, but of establishing it.”
Alt text: Saint Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City, illuminated at night, symbolizing the enduring legacy of Peter.
“To argue that Jesus is downplaying Peter’s role directly contradicts the immediate context. Jesus is, in fact, elevating Peter, installing him as a kind of chief steward or prime minister in His kingdom, second only to the King of Kings Himself. The bestowal of the ‘keys to the kingdom’ is a clear indication of this. As seen in Isaiah 22:22, Old Testament kings appointed a chief steward, granting them immense authority to rule over the kingdom’s inhabitants. Jesus’ language in Matthew 16:19 echoes Isaiah almost verbatim, leaving no doubt about His intention. He is raising Peter to a position of paternal leadership within the household of faith (Isaiah 22:21), entrusting him to lead and guide the flock (John 21:15-17). This authority, symbolized by the keys worn on the shoulder as a mark of office, was passed down through generations of chief stewards. Similarly, the authority of Peter has been passed down through 2000 years via the papacy, the unbroken line of successors to St. Peter.”
I concluded my explanation and paused, offering a smile. The missionary returned a somewhat strained smile, visibly uncomfortable, but remained silent. He then glanced at his watch, feigned surprise at the elapsed time, and politely excused himself. I never saw him at my door again.
What were the lasting outcomes of this encounter? Two significant takeaways, one for me and perhaps one for him.
For me, it was a surge of confidence. I realized that with a little preparation, a bit of “homework,” I could effectively articulate and defend my faith. The more I studied, the stronger that defense would become. This realization was empowering.
I understood then that any reasonably educated Catholic – including anyone reading this – is capable of doing the same. There’s no need to feel intellectually insecure or doubt the veracity of your faith simply because you might not immediately have an answer to every challenging question.
Developing this confidence allows you to tell yourself, “I may not know the answer to that right now, but I know I can find it. The answers are there, readily accessible, if I dedicate the time and effort to seek them out.”
And what about the missionary? Did he leave with anything of value? I believe so. I suspect he departed with a seed of doubt regarding his own understanding – or perhaps lack of understanding – of Catholics and the Catholic faith. My hope is that this initial doubt has since matured into a genuine desire to explore further, to consider that perhaps, just perhaps, Catholics possess a reasoned and defensible faith, worthy of deeper investigation, rather than immediate opposition.
NIHIL OBSTAT: I have concluded that the materials presented in this work are free of doctrinal or moral errors. Bernadeane Carr, STL, Censor Librorum, August 10, 2004
IMPRIMATUR: In accord with 1983 CIC 827 permission to publish this work is hereby granted. +Robert H. Brom, Bishop of San Diego, August 10, 2004
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