Note: If you wish to receive, via e-mail, (1) my weekly newsletter or (2) daily copies of these posts, notify me at [email protected] and indicate which you would like. I promise not to share your e-mail address with anyone. To unsubscribe, send me a follow-up email.
Sunday
Today’s Gospel reading—where Jesus symbolically delivers the kingdom of heaven’s keys to Peter—gives me an excuse to share a wonderful sonnet about the most impetuous of the disciples. I have a special place in my heart for Peter, perhaps because he seems my polar opposite.
Whereas I tend to be deliberate and cautious, attempting to reason everything out, Peter acts on impulse. He thinks more with his heart than with his head. Perhaps it is my reticence, probably the result of my British heritage, that draws me to the disciple who often leaps before he looks. Perhaps a similar dynamic draws British poet and Anglican priest Malcolm Guite to Peter since his poem speaks directly to me.
First, here’s today’s Gospel reading:
When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah. (Matthew 16:13-20)
And here’s Guite’s poem:
St. Peter
Impulsive master of misunderstanding
You comfort me with all your big mistakes;
Jumping the ship before you make the landing,
Placing the bet before you know the stakes.
I love the way you step out without knowing,
The way you sometimes speak before you think,
The way your broken faith is always growing,
The way he holds you even when you sink.
Born to a world that always tried to shame you,
Your shaky ego vulnerable to shame,
I love the way that Jesus chose to name you,
Before you knew how to deserve that name.
And in the end your Savior let you prove
That each denial is undone by love.
I too love the idea of a divine presence knowing us better than we know ourselves. Not everyone would see firm foundation upon looking at Peter. But Jesus saw the rock within Peter and knew that he would grow into that role.
Even when we are driven, by our fear, to deny that which is most precious to us, Jesus assures us love undoes our betrayals. As Horace puts it and as his words appear on the brooch of Chaucer’s prioress, “Amor vincit omnia.”
