“What Do You Think of the Christ?”

Matthew 22:41–46

Today’s Gospel brings us into one of the most decisive and revealing moments of Jesus’ public ministry. For several days now, the Lord has been teaching and debating in the Temple. The Pharisees, Sadducees, and scribes have each come forward with their questions—about taxes, about the resurrection, about the greatest commandment—each one hoping to trap Him in His words.

But now, the tables turn.

Matthew tells us, “While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them.”
He who has been questioned now becomes the questioner. And He asks one simple, searching question:

“What do you think of the Messiah? Whose Son is He?”

This is not just a question for the Pharisees. It is the question at the very heart of our faith.
It is the question that every human heart must one day answer:

“Who do you say that I am?” (Mt 16:15)

The Pharisees answer quickly and confidently: “He is the Son of David.

They are partly right—but not completely.

They see the Messiah as a great human figure, a descendant of David, a political deliverer who would restore the kingdom of Israel. But they do not see the divine mystery hidden within this promise.

As one of the early Fathers, John Chrysostom, observed: the Jews tested Jesus because they thought of Him only as a man. Had they recognized Him as the Son of God, they would never have dared to question Him.

So Jesus presses the question deeper—not to win an argument, but to reveal His identity.
He quotes Psalm 110:

“The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.”

Then He asks: If the Messiah is David’s son, how is it that David calls Him ‘Lord’?

This psalm, long cherished in Jewish worship, was known as a royal psalm celebrating God’s chosen king. Yet Jesus reveals that its true fulfillment lies not in David or Solomon, but in Himself.

As St. Jerome beautifully says, Christ is David’s Lord not because of His earthly descent, but because of His eternal birth from the Father. Before David ever lived, before time began, the Son was begotten—not made—of the Father.

Every Sunday we proclaim this same mystery in the Creed:

“God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God.”

When we say, “He is seated at the right hand of the Father,” we are not describing a place but proclaiming a truth: that the Son shares fully in the honor, majesty, and power of the Father.

This is the wonder of the Incarnation—that the eternal Son of God, equal with the Father, became truly human, the Son of David, to share our life, our suffering, and even our death.
Yet as St. Paul writes, “God has highly exalted Him and given Him the name that is above every name.” (Phil 2:9)

He now reigns at the Father’s right hand until all His enemies—sin, death, and evil—are placed beneath His feet.

Origen, another great Father, adds a beautiful insight: that even in His victory, Christ conquers not to destroy but to save. His enemies are made His footstool so that, one day, even they might find mercy and redemption beneath His feet.

Matthew concludes the passage with a telling detail:

“No one was able to answer Him a word, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask Him any more questions.”

It is a striking silence. But it is not the silence of faith—it is the silence of pride and refusal. Their mouths are closed, but their hearts remain closed as well.

And we must ask ourselves: How often do we, too, avoid the questions that pierce our hearts?
How often do we stay silent before the Lord’s invitation to deeper faith, because we are afraid to be changed?

This Gospel is more than an ancient debate—it is a personal invitation. Jesus stands before each of us today and asks:

“What do you think of the Christ? Whose Son is He?”

Is He, for us, merely a teacher, a prophet, a figure of history—or is He truly our Lord and our God?

To call Him “Lord” is not just to give Him a title—it is to surrender to His authority, to let Him guide our choices, shape our priorities, and rule our hearts. It is to join David in saying, “The Lord is my Lord.”

When Thomas touched the wounds of the risen Jesus, he could only whisper, “My Lord and my God.” (Jn 20:28) That is the full answer to Jesus’ question. That is the confession of every believer.

The same Lord whom David called “my Lord” now comes to us humbly in the Eucharist.
The eternal Son, seated at the Father’s right hand, is present here upon the altar—hidden under the forms of bread and wine—saying once again, “Take and eat; this is my Body.”

Here, at this table, we bow not in fear, but in adoration. We proclaim with our lips and with our lives: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Psalm 110—the verse that silenced the Pharisees—still speaks powerfully today.

It proclaims His Divinity: He is God from all eternity.

It proclaims His Dignity: the risen Son of Man exalted at the Father’s right hand.

And it proclaims His Dominion: that all creation will one day bow before Him.

Let us allow this question to echo in our hearts:

“What do you think of the Christ?”

And may our answer not be mere words, but a living faith— a faith that confesses, in Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of David and the Lord of David, the eternal Son of God—our Redeemer, our King, our Savior.

Let our hearts echo David’s own song:

“The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool.”

Amen.

✍ Fr James Abraham