We hear three stories of call this morning, three epiphanies really; three characters recognizing their unworthiness in the brilliance of divine presence and blessing: Paul and Peter and their holy forebear Isaiah. We witness their religious experience and its reverberations. “Woe is me,” says Isaiah, “I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” Then Paul, only recently back on his feet after falling from his horse, will proclaim, “I am the least of the apostles, not fit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God, I am what I am.” And finally, in the Gospel, there is that tremendous haul of fish and Peter falling at Jesus’ knees, “Depart from me Lord, for I am a sinful man.”
With the realization of divine favor, there is neither boasting
nor complacency but wonder and bitter self-knowledge. In the brilliance of
divine light, getting closer to God, we see more clearly who we are. Isn’t it
true that the response of a grateful, awe-filled heart is always appropriately -
I am not worthy. Noticing the blessing, the undeserved abundance, we see
clearly who the recipient is. It is I, it is you, not because of what we have
accomplished but because of who God is- all Love. It’s never been about worth,
but always about love, and the sweet condescension of his mercy, the
tenderness you never really deserve.
A story. You know for good Catholics like us, divorce was anathema. No one knew about annulments in those days. But Lee, my favorite aunt, was a divorcée; and she was my godmother. (I found out later that my mother had pleaded in tears with the old Italian pastor to get his extraordinary permission for that.) So Lee always knew that she was on the fringe. I noticed that she didn’t go to Mass and that when she did; she never ever went up for Communion. But who worried about that. I loved her, she always babysat for me and took me everywhere when I was little; she bought me the best presents, she was my great defender as a kid.
Now as best I can
remember, it was during a big family fight one afternoon when things were
shouted that would be regretted. And from my room, I heard it all. And then at
one point, Lee burst into my room sobbing, and she confessed to me,
“I’m divorced. My first husband beat me; I had to leave
him.” She told me she’d always known that one day she would have to
tell me and that she had always dreaded it, afraid that I would reject her.
Reject her? It seemed incongruous even to my young mind. What did I know? It
made no sense to me. All I knew was that I loved her, and I told her so.
Forgive the family drama; it’s just that it reminds me of the scene in today’s
Gospel. For I suspect that Jesus’ dialogue with Peter, though not recorded,
perhaps went something like this: “Depart from me Lord, I am a sinful man,”
says Peter. Jesus' response, “Depart from you? What? I love you. I want you to come and follow me. I’m not
going anywhere.”
Jesus knows perfectly well who we are, whom he has chosen. And
so next he tells Peter, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be netting
men”- “netting” others into this relationship of love with him, this web
of relationality, of interconnectedness between heaven and all creation, that
happens when we begin to love as God loves.
Our work is to be seized by astonishment at Christ’s deeds on our behalf over and over again, to see clearly what God is doing in my life, in our lives together in this place. It demands our attention and openness to the epiphanies- to believe beyond all doubt that God is choosing me, choosing us, favoring us, and blessing us beyond our imagining in ways far beyond our often narrow comprehension, ways that are his ways, not our ways of doing things. But how to keep open to the blessing, notice the abundance that has been given? How to stay awake and keep the focus out there, and notice my deepest desire? My outlook, maybe yours too, can get so narrow.
It is so humbling, even humiliating to think of all the stupid things that concern and annoy me, and crowd my mind and heart, all my pettiness. I too want to say, "Depart from me Lord, I am a sinful man." Well, the hardest part is that he won’t go away, even with my hardheartedness and stupidity. Jesus is not going anywhere.
And so when despite my foolishness, my sinfulness, all our
resistance, we can say yes along with our holy forebears in the faith, with
Peter and Paul and Isaiah, we are blest indeed. For then we come to inhabit a
place where all things are possible, a place where we can even rejoice in our
nothingness as Our Lady did. As always it is a matter of letting ourselves be
loved and daring to believe, to trust in Another’s love and desire. Holy
allowing. Those who are in love have always known that. They know
enough to trust in the foolishness of another’s fondness and partiality. How
good then to put everything else aside once again and go to him, up to the
altar of God to receive his Best Gift which each day reminds each of us who we
are- deeply loved sinners, from whom Jesus our Lord will never ever depart. Photograph by Brother Brian. Reflection by one of the monks.
