Dear Parish Family,
In John’s Gospel there are descriptions of two charcoal fires burning. The first warms Peter in Caiaphas’s courtyard when, as predicted, Peter denies his master three times. Today's Gospel presents the other charcoal fire, near which Jesus invites the denier to atone for his cowardice by confessing his love three times.
Let us pause a moment as there is something great stirring here. Have you ever uttered those words to another? “Do you love me?” Most of us, once beyond childhood, are terrified at the thought of asking such a question. It is hard enough for some men to tell the beloved she is loved. But it can be excruciating to ask, “Do you love me?” How often have teenagers, sometimes eager to profess their love, been found to ask whether they are loved? To ask it. Have you ever asked a friend as much? A brother or sister?
We could think of scores of questions Christ might have put to Peter. Do you promise never to betray me again? Will you finally be more modest in your claims? Do you now, at long last, after having denied me, amend your life? Now do you see why I had to wash your feet? Can you be a bit more humble? But none of this. The Son of God raised from the dead is interested in one thing, the heart and face of the one before him. The gift of a person, even tarnished, so like unto glory, was the only image of God that God allowed. The human “yes.” The affirmation, uttered in all its hurt and frailty. The movement of will that quickened Mary’s fiat. The surge of hope that rises with every human longing.
Jesus said only, “Do you love me?” What manner of God is this that we worship? What wondrous love has become incarnate to live and die in Jesus Christ? What splendid manner of man was he? How could we not “glory” in such a God? It turned out just as Jesus said. Peter became the kind of man who learned to glorify such a God, even in his death. He became a witness every hour of his remaining life until he breathed his last on the cross on the outskirts of Rome, where today millions visit and kiss his feet.
Each time Jesus asks Peter to demonstrate that love by service: “Feed my sheep, my lambs.” He then predicts that Peter's service will take him where he does not want to go. The Church's social justice ministry is an important form of that pastoral service. And, yes, sometimes that ministry takes us where we do not instinctively want to go.
What happened to Peter can happen to us also if we have the faith to accept God’s love and forgiveness. Jesus forgives us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation and loves us after we have denied him, after we have disbelieved, after we have given up, after we have sinned. It takes an act of faith to believe in God, and it takes an act of faith to believe that God forgives us and loves us after we repent of our sin. Sometimes faith is the courage to accept God’s love, the courage to accept God’s forgiveness and acceptance of ourselves. Peter recovered his faith after his despair; he was able to say “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.” We do not allow the past to overcome us like Judas. Instead Peter is our model for repentance and reforming ourselves and allowing the Lord to put us to work for him again.