Homily for April 14, 2013 (3rd Sunday of Easter)

Beaumont Hospital Chapel, Grosse Pointe, Michigan

Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41; Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

We all love comebacks. We’re inspired by the stories of people who experience personal setbacks, tragedies or failures and find ways to turn them into triumphs. Even if you weren’t a fan of the Minnesota Vikings you could still marvel at the fantastic season that running back Adrian Peterson had in 2012, only a year after suffering a potentially career-ending knee injury. The millions who witnessed the horrible leg injury suffered by the University of Louisville’s Kevin Ware found it hard not to root for him and his teammates as they won the NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship.

Adrian Peterson and Kevin Ware may inspire us today; but St. Peter has inspired people for centuries. They may be comeback players for a season; but Peter experienced one of the greatest comebacks of all time—and in something far more profound than a game. With most comebacks, we see only the end product: a person renewed and able to perform a high or even higher level than before. We rarely see the many hours of work—the blood, sweat and tears—that got him there. In today’s gospel reading we are privileged to see all of these in Peter’s encounter with Jesus.

In a direct but compassionate way, Jesus makes Peter sweat by asking him three times, “Do you love me?” Each time, Peter replies almost in anguish “you know that I love you.” He must have been mindful that only a few days earlier—when he denied three times that he even knew Jesus—he had a funny way of showing that love. Jesus also invites him to demonstrate it anew by feeding and tending those entrusted to him.

Jesus then admonishes Peter and promises him tears: “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” As we witness in our first reading from Acts 5, Peter and the other apostles soon found themselves in confrontation with the religious leaders of their day as they proclaimed the gospel and performed works of mercy in the name of Jesus.

Although they respected the authority of the Sanhedrin, they knew that they were ultimately accountable to someone else. “We must obey God,” they said, “rather than men.” They were flogged for their(dis)obedience. Almost all of them would eventually be martyred. Peter himself would follow the Lord’s command, “Follow me,” all the way to the cross. After the sweat and tears, here was the blood. His comeback was complete.

Tradition has designated St. Peter as the first Bishop of Rome, the forerunner of our popes. Yet he is a model for all of us who strive and fail—sometimes publicly and spectacularly—to live as we have been called by the Lord. In this season of hope, we need look no further than this Galilean fisherman—passionate and impulsive, courageous and fearful, confident and sometimes confused—to be reminded that there is hope for us all as we, too, respond to that simple command of Jesus: “Follow me.” +