Peter and Paul. How is it possible that these two saints
should not only be celebrated together each year, but that their names
should be spoken together in the same breath—as if they were twins? Two
more strikingly different people—in background, in personality, in
temperament - would be hard to find. They had so very little in common:
Peter: unlettered, rough-edged Galilean fisherman, impetuous, cowardly,
lovable, real; Paul: intellectual, Roman citizen, Pharisee, zealous,
courageous, single-minded. How in the world did these two end up sharing
a feast? How is it that they are almost inseparable when we look at the
Church in its infancy?
The answer to that
question lies in the title we give to both of them: Apostle. Apostle, I
think you know, means ‘one who is sent,’ and, in spite of their
differences – and they were certainly considerable – Peter and Paul had
in common the fact that they were sent – sent to preach, sent to give
witness, sent to make their sender known and loved.
So, they were sent, and we
know why they were sent, but another question arises: why is it that
they were sent?! And that takes us into the ever-mysterious territory of
divine choice which is so different from human choice. This much is
certain: if, in choosing his apostles, Jesus had employed the services
of a “head-hunter” firm, he would never have come up with these two!
Peter, the good-hearted but impetuous ‘waffler’ – hot one moment, cold
the next; Paul, the fiery zealot, the persecutor, passionately fixed on
wiping out the Christian movement. No head-hunter would ever have come
up with either one of these! But look what they did when grace did its
work. It was all about grace.
Grace! At this moment
in my life and ministry and in our life as a parish, as I look back at
the last 37 years that I’ve been privileged to serve as pastor of this
wonderful parish, grace is all I see - a veritable river of grace that
has swept us along at a dizzying pace through events that both
challenged us and changed us, formed us and shaped us. Let me mention
some highlights both global and local - all since the summer of 1988.
The world has not been standing still. Fasten your seatbelts!
There was the fall of
the Berlin Wall, the Persian Gulf War, the invention of the Internet,
the Cathedral renovation, a new millennium, 9/11, the Cathedral
centennial, the Iraq war, climate change, political change (that gave us
8 presidents!), and church change that gave us four popes and five
archbishops and a whole new way of being Church called Synodality. Whew!
A lot can happen in 37 years!
And against that
sweeping backdrop, we gathered here in the Cathedral to celebrate Masses
beyond number, not to mention sacraments in the thousands: Baptisms,
First Holy Communions, weddings and funerals. And there were ecumenical
services, inter-faith services, too; peace marches and marches for
justice; there were press conferences, concerts, lectures, and many an
Archdiocesan celebration. And did I mention capital campaigns? More, I’m
sure, than anyone wanted!
I spoke of a river of
grace. It is grace and only grace that has carried us through the
flowing currents and sometimes raging rapids of all those events and
many more. And through it all, we came together Sunday after Sunday,
grew together as a community through our prayer, social outreach and
advocacy, welcomed thousands of new members and tens of thousands of
visitors, and built something that, please God, will endure – even
though changes will surely come and new horizons will be explored.
If there is one thing to be
learned from all this, it has to be the incredible power of God’s grace.
Which ties nicely into today’s feast. I’ve always thought of Saints
Peter and Paul as the perfect “poster boys” for the power of God’s
grace, but, my friends, so are we. Everything we’ve accomplished here
over the past nearly four decades is directly attributable to the grace
of God which always works its greatest wonders in human weakness. That
was true for Peter and Paul, and it’s true for us.
And for every one of us,
there has been one leading question we have done our best to answer.
It’s the question Jesus put to his followers while they walked along a
dusty road near Caesarea Philippi, the question we heard in today’s
gospel. This question: “You, who do you say that I am?”
“You, who do you say that I
am?” Peter answered that question with words not his own, words
that came from God: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!”
But, of course, he really answered the question long years later on the
Vatican hill where he was put to death and gained the martyr’s crown.
And Paul? Paul answered a different question - the one he heard from the
heavens in a blinding moment along the Road to Damascus, “Saul, Saul,
why are you persecuting me?” He answered that question when he turned
his life around and gave it completely over to Jesus, becoming a most
passionate preacher of the gospel, and ultimately giving his life for
the one he had so fiercely persecuted.
“You, who do you say that I
am?” It’s a question I have been faced with during the years I have
served as your pastor. And the answer: “You are the Christ, the Son of
the Living God” - I have done my best to say those words many times and
in many ways. I haven’t always succeeded but I’ve done my best. And I
have seen the face of Christ in the hungry people who come to our
Cathedral Kitchen. I have seen him in the beautiful faces of children
who want to learn about Jesus and grow in his friendship. I have seen
him in those who have no faith at all and come here seeking answers to
life’s great questions. I have seen him in those who grieve, in those
who struggle with mental illness and addiction, in those who thirst for
justice, in those who come seeking God’s forgiveness. And time after
time I have seen him in your faces. Some lines from Gerard Manley
Hopkins come to mind:
Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely
in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.
It’s true, my friends –
ten thousand places and more. And you are living proof of that. At every
step of the way, for every one of these past 37 years, Christ has been
there revealing himself to me. Through you. How can I not be grateful?
To God, to you. It’s all been grace. So much grace! What can I say but:
thank you, thank you, thank you!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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