Acts 9.1-20; John 21.1-19
Today’s scripture readings tell of two conversion stories, one quite different from the other. Both involve pillars of the early Church: St Paul and St Peter. One is dramatic and looks like what we normally think of as conversion, a sudden change from one way of living to another; that would be Paul in today’s first reading. The other is Peter in the gospel; his experience is less dramatic, more gradual. He moves slowly into the life Jesus calls him to. Yet Peter’s story is as much a conversion story as Paul’s. For both, they are turned from their way of living in the world and come to trust Jesus as the way for living in the world.
First, the account of Paul’s conversion. When we meet him, Paul is known as Saul. And instead of following Jesus, he is tyrannizing the church. “Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord,” is how today’s reading from Acts begins. The key word there is ‘still.’ Saul’s persecution of the church began two chapters earlier. Now today he is looking for ways to have the followers of Jesus arrested. (What sort of tyranny is that, that Christians could be arrested?)
After Saul gets warrants and sets out for houses of worship in Damascus, the Risen Lord appears to this persecutor of the church and calls him to follow. In a blinding flash of light, Saul falls to the ground and is told that to hurt Jesus’ followers is to hurt Jesus himself. It’s a classic conversion story, a dramatic change from one way of living to another. And it shows that no one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. This story is so impressive that it is told three times in the book of Acts. Saul’s conversion is known as his ‘Damascus Road Experience’ because of where it happened. For us, the phrase ‘Road to Damascus’ has even found its way into secular culture to describe a sudden conversion or change.
For most of us, though, faith isn’t usually this dramatic. It can be. But not many of us tell stories about how the bright light of Christ stopped us in our tracks and changed our lives in a single moment. I’m guessing that for most of us faith comes the way author Madeleine L’Engle describes her life of faith. “Conversion for me was not a Damascus Road Experience. Instead, it was slowly moving into the life Christ called me to.” Now L’Engle was a lifelong Episcopalian whose faith and intellectual curiosity were dialog partners and for whom daily Eucharist at her church in New York City was essential. Even if a dramatic conversion is a part of your life’s story, you know it takes time to grow into a mature faith, a faith that deepens over time through the work of the Holy Spirit poured into our hearts, transforming our lives in the way of Jesus Christ.
This slow growth is the focus of today’s second conversion story: Jesus appearing to Simon Peter in the gospel. Here there is no sudden flash of light, no Damascus Road. Yet Peter’s story is a conversion as much as Paul’s. Jesus asks, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Jesus asks three times—his threefold question a three-fold reversal of Peter’s three-fold denial on the night before Jesus’ death. That night, even though Peter said he would lay down his life for Jesus, Jesus noted that Peter would deny him three times. And that is what he did. “I do not know him. I do not know him. I do not know the man.” So Jesus comes to Peter and asks three times, “Simon son of John, do you love me.” Jesus takes the initiative and, without explicitly mentioning the past, gives Peter a fresh start. Peter can begin again, turn from his failings, and turn toward the Risen Christ in love. No one is beyond the reach of God’s grace. This is defining moment for Peter that comes after a real failure to follow Jesus.
But Peter never answers the question the way Jesus asks. Our translation misses something other versions catch. There are a variety of words for love in the original language of the New Testament. And the ancient text behind today’s reading uses two different words: one for Jesus’ question to Peter; another for Peter’s answer. Some translations pick up those differences. In those versions we hear Jesus say, “Simon, do you love me?” Peter answers, “Lord, you know I am your friend.” Now that’s not quite the answer to Jesus’ question, is it? Then a second time. “Simon, do you love me?” “You know that I am your friend.” Then when Jesus asks the third time—and some other translations catch this—he changes the question to match what Simon Peter can give. “Simon, are you my friend?” No wonder the Gospel of John adds the detail about Peter feeling hurt at this repeated line of questioning. Peter answers, “You know everything. You know I am your friend.”
Why can’t Peter respond with the kind of love that Jesus is asking for? Is it because Peter is aware of the gap between the generous and overwhelming love of Jesus and how what he can give in return is small, meager in comparison. When you have hurt someone or damaged a relationship but then discover that you have been utterly loved, forgiven, and welcomed like the Prodigal Son in the embrace of his father. that you are reconciled not because of anything you have done but because steadfast love is given you, when you see that the past is behind you and your future open to you, how do you respond? You are likely to be aware of the little you can offer.
Jesus asks for Peter’s love; Peter offers friendship. Yet what does Jesus say the night before his death? “There is no greater love than this, that someone should lay down his life for his friends.” Peter is Jesus’ friend. And in steadfast love, Jesus lays down his life for his friend. That makes this a conversion story, too. Jesus comes to Peter as he is, takes what Peter can offer, and transforms it and turns it toward his purpose. Peter is asked about love by the one who loves. Each question and answer, the three-fold reversal of Peter’s three-fold denial, is followed by the Risen Jesus sticking with Peter, not giving up on Peter, then gradually and slowly moving Peter into the life he’s been called to: feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep—all to make Peter a witness to the life-giving love of Jesus.
I have a hunch, then, that this makes Peter’s faith story more like our faith story than Paul’s, our own slow movement into the life Christ calls us to. It certainly sounds like mine; you can tell me if it’s true for you. Haven’t we all had moments of courage in faith—like Peter—yet also failed in our best intentions—like Peter. In small ways and great, we know what it’s like to turn from God’s desire and purpose in what we think, say, and do. And yet we see how Jesus comes to us faithfully and steadfastly and doesn’t give up on us. No one is beyond the reach of God’s grace.
At the start of today’s gospel, the Risen Christ calls out to the disciples in the boat and says, “Children, do you have any fish?” Children. The whole account in today’s gospel, and of our life of faith, is captured by that one word: children. Even for the adult men who returned to the ordinary life of fishing that they once knew, the word children applies. This is the word that St John, in his New Testament letters, uses to speak of the whole Christian community and of each of us as believers. “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God, and that is what we are.” Children of God, beloved by God.
Throughout the Gospel of John and in John’s letters, there is no doubt that such children—from Peter and the disciples out fishing, to the earliest Christian community, to you here today—are met by Jesus’ love. His is the love that outweighs all hurt and denials; the love that signals forgiveness, restoration, and life; the love we are now called to show to others in word and deed through our ordinary and daily life. Like Peter, our life is made a witness to the life-giving love of Jesus. Or as Saul once an enemy of the church now made Paul preacher of Jesus Christ says, “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus.”
And if a dramatic conversion did once change the direction of your life, faith still needs the steady, patient growth born of the love that the Father has given us; of Jesus the Son present in this Holy Eucharist; and the daily work of the Holy Spirit poured into our hearts to make our lives a living answer to the question, ‘Child of God, do you love me?’ Then, turned toward God as the way for us in the world, to answer, ‘Lord, you know.’
Write a comment: