Understanding the Office of Peter

In the Gospel of John, our Lord is recorded as saying “I AM,” the Greek “ego eimi,” over forty times. The phrase should call to mind for the reader the episode in Exodus 3:14, when Moses encounters God and the burning bush. Moses asks for the name of God and the voice returns: “I AM.”

St. Hilary of Poitiers tells us in his treatise of the Trinity that when he was a pagan and came across these words from Exodus, he knew – because of his philosophical training – that the speaker of these words must be the one and only, true God.

However, not all of the “I AM” statements are without qualification. Among these forty or so “I AM” statements in the Gospel of John, seven are attached to a predicate: “I am the bread of life” (6:35), “I am the light of the world” (8:12), “I am the door” (10:9), “I am the good shepherd” (10:11), “I am the resurrection and the life” (11:25), “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (14:6), and “I am the true vine” (15:1).

The names as presented by John seem to demonstrate what is called a “chiastic” structure. The first and the last statement parallel and relate to each other, just as the second and the penultimate statements, as do the third and fifth—each pair mirroring the other until the pattern, like an archway, arrives at its summit and interpretive cornerstone.

Classic examples of chiastic structure exist in both Sacred Scripture and secular literature. The story of Noah, the Gospel of Mark, and many of the psalms, along with Dante’s Divine Comedy and Homer’s Odyssey, all exhibit this literary form – where ideas are arranged symmetrically to emphasize a central theme or turning point.

Notably, John’s prologue uses the literary device to focus on John 1:12 – that believing in God is what makes us children of God. And likewise, it seems that the same literary tool is being used through the “I AM” statements to emphasize the fact that Jesus is the “Good Shepherd.”

In fact, if you exclude John 21, that “Jesus is the Good Shepherd” is arguably the central thematic statement of the Gospel. And, when you factor back in John 21, what you have is an epilogue where Jesus now makes Peter his Vicar and Shepherd of His Church.

The Church Fathers frequently saw something important in Jesus’ singling out of Peter in the last chapter of the Gospel of John. From John Chrysostom, Augustine, and Jerome to Theophylact of Bulgaria and Thomas Aquinas, those who comment on this Gospel see in Christ’s command to Peter to “Feed my Sheep” and “Follow me” a reaffirmation (or even reinstitution) of primacy.

It seems that Peter had abandoned his role as “rock” when, in fear of being attacked by the Jews, he chose to deny Jesus Christ. Such a denial is both a great moral, but also theological failure on the part of Peter. In fact, if we think about where we get our word heresy, that is the Greek haireó, meaning “I choose,” we might even call Peter’s denial the ultimate heresy.

With the election of Leo XIV, we would do well to remind ourselves and consider deeply the foundations and implications of the Chair of St. Peter, that the pope is to be the Shepherd of Christ who feeds His sheep.

Indeed, in light of Diane Montagna’s recent discovery of a CDF report that undermines the rationale of Pope Francis’ Traditionis Custodes (which limited the use of the Traditional Latin Mass), allegedly because the bishops of the world were concerned about it (they weren’t), understanding the papacy, synodality, and their limits is especially relevant today.

As one finds throughout history, knowing the full extent and limits of papal authority has resulted in a large range of opinions and fiery debate. Ultramontanism and Tradition: The Role of Papal Authority in the Catholic Faith, a 500-page anthology edited by Peter Kwasniewski, gathers together 50 articles that shed light on this subject from authors such as Cardinal Raymond Burke, Thomas Pink, Edward Feser, Bishop Athanasius Schneider, and Roberto de Mattei.

In this substantial volume, one finds discussions concerning the difficulties of canon law and interpreting Vatican I, the claim of automatic papal sanctity made by Pope St. Gregory VII, the idea that while popes may be infallible in teaching ex cathedra, they are far from indefectible in jurisdiction, and much more.

For Catholics interested in what the papacy is – and every thinking Catholic should be – Ultramontanism and Tradition is a convenient introduction to the wide variety of arguments – often in tension with one another – that attempt to contextualize the papacy in a way that does not succumb to either its mythologizers or its deniers.

This is a perspective sorely needed as a corrective to the temptation of equating the personal preferences of individual popes with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Whether they are analyzing the limits of obedience, the role of bishops, or the risks of hyper-papalism, these essays help provide a roadmap for how the Church might reclaim a fuller and more balanced view of Peter’s office – one rooted in Scripture, tradition, and reason.

As the Church looks to the future under Pope Leo XIV, it must do so in prayer and doctrinal sobriety. The office of Peter is not strengthened by flattery, nor diminished by honest scrutiny. And given Pope Leo XIV’s interest in synodality, books such as Ultramontanism and Tradition can be a valuable stimulant to a wider, more fully Catholic discussion.

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