If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm
really into this thing called hagiology,
which is the study of saints. In Lutheran theology a saint is nothing
more than a sinner redeemed by God's grace; nevertheless, the
Augsburg Confession reminds us
“...our people teach that the
saints are to be remembered so that we may strengthen our faith when
we see how they experienced grace and how they were helped by faith.”
(AC XXI.1)
Although
we don't insist on some big, fancy procedure for declaring someone a
saint, we still love to tell the stories of the men and women whose
lives provide us with inspiration. This Sunday we take a break from
Ordinary Time to remember two of the big heavy-hitters of
Christianity, Peter and Paul.
These
two cats are so important that they each get an additional feast day
in January (The Confession of Peter on January 18 and The Conversion
of Paul on January 25). Some time ago, however, the church decided
to consolidate the festivals of their individual martyrdom (formerly
June 29 for Peter and June 30 for Paul) into one holiday. I think
that's a pretty cool idea, because if you look at these old boys
side-by-side you see how very different they were and you can
appreciate God's sense of inclusiveness in choosing witnesses to the
faith.
You've
got to love Saint Peter. He's just such a big dufus. He's a lovable,
blue collar dude with absolutely no filter. If it comes into his
head, it's out his mouth. No sooner does he make the Good Confession
“You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God!” (Mt. 16:16) than
he misconstrues the whole thing and is rebuked by Jesus (Mt.
16:22-23). He is endearingly humble. When confronted by Jesus'
miracle of the great catch of fish in Luke chapter five, he begs
Jesus to leave him saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a
sinful man.” (Lk. 5:8) In John's gospel, Peter will refuse to allow
Jesus the indignity of washing his feet (Jn. 3:8). Church legend has
it that Peter was so humble he begged the Romans to crucify him head
downward because he felt he was not worthy to die in the same way
Jesus had been killed (Thank you, St. Jerome and 16th
century historian John Fox for keeping that tale alive!).
Peter's
not an educated guy. He sort of acts on impulse and often reverses
himself. When he sees Jesus walking on the water (Mt. 14), he calls
out and asks to be allowed to do the same. Unfortunately, when he
sees the huge waves, he chickens out and begins to sink, calling for
Jesus to rescue him. He swears faithful allegiance to Jesus, but when
Jesus is arrested, Peter denies three times that he even knows him.
He graciously agrees to welcome gentiles into the fellowship (Acts
10), but back-peddles in Antioch when Jewish legalists give him gas
about inclusiveness (Gal.2:11-12).
How
can such a fellow—whose weaknesses seem to be dripping out of his
pores—be the Rock upon which Christ built the church? I'd say it's
because Peter's very weakness is the foundation of Jesus' strength.
In the gospel for this Sunday (Jn. 21:15-19), Jesus asks Peter three
times if Peter loves him—three chances to reverse the sting of his
three denials. The gospel tells us the sentimental Peter was wounded
by the repetition of this question. Yet this encounter, heartbreaking
to Peter, exemplifies Christ's endless desire for forgiveness and
reconciliation.
Saint
Paul is a different sort of fellow. He's learned, articulate, fluent
in Greek, and, when we first encounter him in Acts, violently
legalistic. He loves the law and hates Christians and gentiles.
Unlike the impulsive Peter, Paul is won to faith by solid evidence of
Christ's mercy. He is loved and cared for by the very people he
despises (Acts 9).
Paul
is an able debater, but he is not without his faults. His letters
indicate that his temper gets the better of him often. In his
argument to the Galatians over the issue of circumcision, he rages,
“I wish those who unsettle you would castrate themselves!” (Gal.
5:12) He proudly declares that he got up in Peter's face and accused
him of hypocrisy. (Gal 2) It also doesn't take too close a look at
Paul's letter to Philemon to see that the apostle is not above a
little emotional blackmail.
Paul's
relationship with gender equality leaves a bit to be desired, too. In
spite of relying on capable women such as Phoebe and Lydia to promote
the gospel, he adjures the Corinthian church to prevent women from
preaching (1 Cor. 14).
But
you've still got to love Paul for his bravery in both proclaiming the
gospel—which often results in his being jailed, beaten, and once
shipwrecked—and in evaluating himself. He never complains about
suffering for Christ's sake, and he is always brutally honest about
who he is and what he's done. He never hides the fact that he had
once been a persecutor of the church, nor does he pretend that he is
not still a sinner.
“For I know that nothing good
dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but
I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do
not want is what I do.” (Romans
7:18-19)
But
for all his faults, it is Saint Paul who most clearly taught us that
the road between God and humanity is a one-way street down which
God's goodness, love, and forgiveness travel to us, and no
contribution of our own can make the journey the other way.
So
which saint are you? Are you the emotional and impulsive Peter or the
intellectual and articulate Paul? In both of these giants of the
faith we see an abundance of brokenness, faults, and weaknesses. All
the same, God chose them as instruments of divine reconciliation, as
servants of the gospel of Christ's love. They remind us in all their
humanness that we, too, are called as vessels of grace. If God could
use Peter and Paul, God can certainly use you!
God
bless you, my saintly friend. Thanks for reading.
PS – Church
tradition has always held that Peter was the first Pope. Why don't we
give his current successor an opportunity to be a saint, too? If
you're Lutheran or Roman Catholic, please sign my petition for
Eucharistic sharing. Let's make a little history ourselves. Just
click here.
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