Last week, I had one of those moments—the creepy-crawly, embarrassing moments that wake you up in the middle of the night for years to come. The details aren’t important; it had to do with not reading instructions closely enough and being in too much of a hurry, with too many kiddos demanding slices of my attention. Suffice it to say, I felt that I had laid out my incompetence as a writer for the whole world to see. And it led to some bruising public comments that are making me question my vocation.
In the wake of this, the Gospel this weekend seemed to hit very close to home.
“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was distressed that Jesus had said to him a third time,
“Do you love me?” and he said to him,
“Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”
Lord, you know everything. You even knew I was going to deny you three times. How can you keep asking me if I love you?
Wow. Here he is, a week or so post-denial in triplicate, and Jesus is drawing attention to it: “Do you really love me? Are you sure?” And then, to make it worse, after pointing out just how small and unworthy Peter is, he puts him in charge of the whole shebang.
Imagine the creepy-crawlies Peter had to live with the rest of his life!
It’s almost as if Jesus wanted him to drink the full measure of his unworthiness, his shame and humiliation, at the very moment he was about to receive an assignment that would change his life—and change the world. As if he knew the only way Peter could succeed at his vocation was to pursue it in absolute awareness of his own incompetence.
As if humiliation serves to keep us humble.
I can’t help thinking about the beating that our successor of Peter is taking right now on the subject of the sex abuse scandal. The scandal itself is a topic for another time, but it occurs to me that the shame being absorbed by my church/church leaders right now is perhaps a reality check. Not just for them, but for me, and for all faithful Catholics—a reminder of what happens when we get too attached to our own power and perception of holiness. A reminder that we are weak, and all too often powerless in the face of our own weakness. And that what we most need in order to fulfill our vocation in life—whatever it be, priest, mother, writer—is a recognition that it is not about me. It’s about living in the service of God.
Well, it took the hand of God Almighty
To part the waters of the sea
But it only took one little lie
To separate you and me
Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are.
-Rich Mullins
And when he decided he was finished, he came across the aisle and shoved the camera at me. Luckily, I was playing three notes in a row that only required the left hand, so I was able to grab it without creating a scene.
