As we celebrate the Eucharist at the tomb of Peter, we are led back to the foundations of our faith, to the rock on which the Church was built.

The readings of today’s Mass point us towards a contrast in Peter, and in all of us..  The first letter of Peter gives instructions to the shepherds of the flock: “Tend the flock of God that is your charge, not by constraint but willingly, not for shameful gain but eagerly, not as domineering over those in your charge but being examples to the flock.”   But Jesus tells Peter: “another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go”.

It is a contrast within ourselves.  The deepest truth within us, that we are made for the unfading crown of glory and there is within us a longing for that fulfilment that is the source of all our restlessness; it is the most basic hunger within us.  But there are other longings for more immediate things  that we are tempted to regard, at least for the moment, as more important – longings for comfort, for status, for power. These can get in the way even of what we know to be our most important goal. However much we grow in love of God, we would be carried where we do not wish to go if we were faced, like Peter, with the awful prospect of crucifixion.

Peter knew that all too well by the time of the incident in today’s Gospel.  He was conscious of how his fear had led him to betray Jesus, even after his confident declaration at the Last Supper:

Peter said to him, ‘Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.’  Jesus answered, ‘Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times’. (Jn 13: 37-38)

In this Gospel Jesus gives Peter the opportunity to undo that three fold denial.  But there is a delicate interplay in the words that are used, which does not come across in the translations. There are two words for love being used in the dialogue.

In his first question Jesus asks “Do you love me?” (agapas-me) using the concept of agape – a love which is unconditional giving everything.  This was the love Peter claimed when he said “I will lay down my life for you”.  But now Peter avoids that word and replies that he loves Jesus, using the concept of philia (filo-se), a love of friendship which is generous but not absolute and all embracing.  Peter is admitting that, in the light of his humbling experience of denial, he cannot now claim to love without reserve.  The same thing happens in the next dialogue; Jesus asks about agape and Peter replies in terms of philia.. 

But in the third exchange, there is an astonishing change:  Jesus asks Peter fileis-me, do you love me with the love of friendship?  He uses Peter’s word, not the word he used in his first two questions! He is putting the question in Peter’s own terms. Peter is grieved that he has been asked again, but he has been taught something very important for him and for us. Our response is not a matter of high sounding words. It is an expression of an ongoing effort. Pope Benedict comments on that exchange saying:

Simon understands that his poor love is enough for Jesus, it is the only one of which he is capable,..  This is to say that Jesus has adapted himself to Peter, rather than Peter to Jesus! It is exactly this divine adaptation that gives hope to the Disciple, who experienced the pain of infidelity .

In the kind of situation in which we minister this is a very important lesson.  We are called to have hope.  But there is an unsettlingly thin line between hope and fantasy.  Fantasy comes from within ourselves and can ignore obvious impossibilities and bypass the need for any strenuous effort.  Hope may also look towards an inconceivable fulfilment; but it does not ignore obstacles or imagine an effortless triumph.  It is based not on our capacities but on trust in Someone beyond ourselves.  It is based on the One who died for us.  No one can be “a partaker in the glory that is to be revealed” unless he or she has been “a witness of the sufferings of Christ” “reproducing the pattern of his death”.  “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death” (Phil 3:10).

The man who was buried here was a human being like ourselves.  He had his weaknesses and his strengths.  He failed dismally at the moment when Jesus most needed his support.  First he made the boast that he was ready to die for Jesus, then he fell asleep three times when Jesus asked him to watch with him, then he denied him three times as Jesus had foretold he would. But this weak, impetuous man, a person to whom anyone would have hesitated to entrust a delicate and vital missions was chosen to be the Rock on which the Church was built.  And his tomb at which we are worshipping is one of the most sacred places on earth.

In these days of uncertainty and disillusionment for many, we might think of Peter and of his denial. But we think too of the opportunity Christ gave him to declare his love, not as some fantasy but as a humble and repentant expression of confidence and hope in Jesus and of readiness to grow. And Jesus placed his trust in Peter, When he was bound and carried to the cruelty of crucifixion, I am sure Peter saw in that moment his opportunity to profess the unconditional agape that he felt unable to express on the lakeshore. Pope Benedict concluded his reflection on our Gospel passage with this thought:

From that day, Peter "followed" the Master with the precise awareness of his own fragility; but this understanding did not discourage him. Indeed, he knew that he could count on the presence of the Risen One beside him.

That is the foundation of our faith, and our trust that “goodness and mercy shall follow [us] all the days of [our] life;  and [we] shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”

+Donal  Murray