Scripture: John 21:12–19
Let me introduce to you the most psychoanalyzed person in the Bible! Simon Peter. Well, he’s at least up there. Moses would give him a run for his money; maybe David and Paul. But how many times have you heard us as preachers try to figure out what was happening in the mind of Peter? What he was thinking when he denied Jesus, or when he saw Jesus walking on water and jumped out of the boat to join him, or when he told Jesus that he was clearly wrong…on more than one occasion? We have this deep need to try and understand why Simon Peter did what he did. Said what he said. And while it is always dangerous to think we have someone figured out with any kind of certainty…2,000 years later…I think that there is value in asking who Peter was and what motivated him, because a curious examination of Peter helps us to curiously examine ourselves. What would we have done if Jesus invited us to walk on water? If he had told us, “Get behind me Satan?” If we had denied him, over and over and over again, and now he was standing in front of us on the beach, eating a piece of fish!
So, let us join the great cloud of armchair psychoanalysts and wonder what was going on with Peter in this moment. Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert have written a book about the Enneagram from a Christian perspective. Many of you know all about the Enneagram, much more than I do, and could wax eloquently about its application in this case. Others of you have no idea what that word means! The Enneagram is a tool for understanding how people are different, and how they are different in some predictable patterns. How many of you have used the Myers-Briggs inventory? It is a similar tool. Instead of letters, the Enneagram uses numbers, and various personalities and personal histories are connected to these different numbers. It is not a perfect tool, but many have found it a helpful way to better understand themselves and their neighbors.
In their Enneagram book, Rohr and Ebert call Simon Peter a “contraphobic Six.” The number Six in the Enneagram denotes a deep loyalty to authority, in fact Rohr sometimes calls them “The Loyalist.” These are folks who are ready to give it all to the people that they love, those who they trust, and those who have earned their respect and authority. They often value traditions and long-standing institutions because they see the strength in what has worked in the past. Why reinvent the wheel when this one is working just fine? We see this loyalism in Peter: When no one else was ready to jump out of the boat, Peter already had his feet wet. When everyone else stammered around to Jesus’s question of his identity, Peter proclaimed, “you are the Messiah!” Even the fact that Jesus renamed Simon as Peter—the Rock—shows that he saw Simon’s steadfastness and loyalty.
But we need to talk about that “contraphobic” part. Enneagram Sixes can sometimes be driven by fear. Sometimes their loyalty to authority is because they are hiding behind it. They can be afraid of what is out there. Rohr and Ebert write that this self-doubt can become paralyzing. A healthy awareness of the dangers of the world becomes overblown into paranoia, constant fear, and distrust. A commitment to authority can lead to Sixes falling for authoritarianism. The louder the bully, the more convinced they are. In the political and church sphere, their tendency to traditionalism can turn into unhealthy fundamentalism…they insist that nothing should change and anything new is evil and must be rooted out. The more closed and unchanging the system, the better.
That explains the “phobic,” but what do they mean by “contraphobic?” What might look like courage is actually based in fear. Think of it this way: if you see the world as a terrifying place that will eventually lead to your complete annihilation, why does it matter if you engage in risky and destructive behavior? Why bother with things like discretion or safety when you are going to go down in flames anyway? Contraphobics swing wildly back and forth between paralyzing fear and reckless destruction. Again, it looks like they are brave and courageous, but underneath it all is a foundation of fear. “I can engage in this risky behavior because I know it doesn’t matter…and deep down I don’t matter.” That’s the “contra” in “contraphobic.” Sound like anyone we know and love? Peter jumps into the water, but then immediately retreats into fear and starts to sink. Peter courageously proclaims Jesus as the Messiah, and then immediately tries to backpedal when Jesus tells him that that means he will have to die. Peter cuts off the ear of a slave to defend Jesus from those who had come to arrest him, and then immediately denies that he even knew him.
So what does our contraphobia look like?
- Angrily posting online with false bravado…even though we are terrified beneath the bluster?
- Complaining that the church isn’t doing this thing or that thing…and then disappearing when the sign-up sheet comes around?
- Lamenting the death of the “way things were” or the “golden years” or “back in the day”…but then not stepping up like leaders and volunteers once did that made those programs possible?
- How often do we blow up with false courage because we think all is helpless? It is often the loudest and the angriest who are the most profoundly terrified. It doesn’t take long for us to look around and see the Simon Peters in our world, in our politics, in our church…even in the mirror.
Into the contraphobia of Simon Peter comes an unexpected Jesus. Over and over again since the Resurrection, Jesus has shown up in unpredictable and unexpected ways. To Mary, to the disciples, to Thomas, and now to Simon Peter, who was gripped by the memory of his failure, and by the fear that he was unforgivable. For days, now, Peter has likely been wracked with the guilt that he had denied knowing Jesus. Do you know that awkward space between two people, when one has wronged the other? When they continue to see one another, and each glance is another pang of guilt? An awkward moment of embarrassed pain? We assume that Peter has been in the room when Jesus has showed up, on Easter evening, and then again with Thomas, but there has been no face-to-face conversation with Peter. No clearing of the air. No resolution of that guilt and shame. Until now.
Scholar Joseph Bessler reminds us that this story sets in relief these two ideas: 1) the story of “shame that shuts us off from growth,” and 2) “liberating moments of grace when, in response to God’s call, we have broken free from that shame to leap toward healing and wholeness.” When the unexpected Jesus meets Peter on the beach, he comes at breakfast, giving him bread and fish to eat. Once again, and one last time in the Gospel of John, we find a story that has both physical and spiritual meaning. It’s breakfast….they are hungry…Jesus is a fully resurrected body that needs to eat…they eat some fish. But the spiritual and symbolic meaning is just as valuable. Jesus is ready to feed and nourish the soul-famished Peter, with “liberating grace” that breaks us free with forgiveness. Forgiveness is the spiritual food that his soul craves.
But that forgiveness is double. Jesus could have said, “you messed up and I forgive you, but I definitely don’t plan to trust you again in the future.” But instead, his grace was double: “Do you love me? Feed my sheep.” The fact that Jesus trusts him enough to entrust this task to him speaks volumes about grace: “Not only did you mess up, and I forgive you…but also I trust you enough to give you another chance, because I believe this time you will soar.”
But why stop there? Jesus’ grace was not single or double, but triple. Three times Peter had denied him. Now three times Jesus gives him the opportunity to receive grace and restoration and purpose. By the third time, Peter starts to feel a bit beat up: “I told you twice that I love you Jesus…don’t you believe me?” But Jesus wanted to make sure that he would not have any reason to retreat back to guilt and shame and fear. Three times a failure…three times restored. Jesus knew that there would come a day when Peter would start to sink back into the waves…when he would feel the sting of his failure…when he would wonder if his failure was more powerful than Jesus’ forgiveness. Jesus knew that Peter needed the restoration to be as profound as the stumble.
Rohr and Ebert say that for folks like Peter, and a lot of us, restoration is intertwined with trust: “God believes in us. This is the basis on which we can believe in God, without thereby losing our human dignity. God trusts us and hopes that we return the compliment. Because God has confidence in us, we can develop a healthy self-confidence.” Folks like Simon Peter must “look their fear in the face and call it by name.” “Unmask it.” Their life tasks must include “learning to break free from external direction by authorities and taking over responsibility for their lives and their feelings.” Jesus knew that once he was gone, Peter would not be able to look to him to figure out what to do next. He needed that self-confidence to be The Loyalist to the mission, even when the Master was gone.
Those of us on this side of Peter’s commissioning still need to hear these words. We need that nourishment, regardless of our past pain, our stumbles, our failures, and our fear. Have you ever stopped to think about the fact that the Rock of our Church, the one that Jesus charged to lead and guide it after he was gone, had denied that he even knew Jesus…three times…after Jesus gave him plenty of warning that he was going to do this, and gave him plenty of opportunity to do otherwise. That’s the guy who Jesus chose to lead us into the Church’s mission in the world!
Or more to the point, that’s the God who sends us like Peter, even when the resemblance is uncanny. We worship a God who forgives us even when our failure happens over and over and over again…even when God knows beforehand that we are going to fail…and we know it’s coming and know better. “God still trusts us and hopes that we return the compliment!” It seems that God isn’t after the tidy and careful…God holds up those who are beautifully unhinged. Those who are ready to fail spectacularly for the Gospel, because even in the failing God is glorified. Those who receive the manifold grace of God and deliver it in handfuls to the world! You will look a little funny, fellow sheep-feeders, especially next to those who still hide behind the coattails of the bullies. But the world will notice, when we who are extravagantly forgiven turn to offer extravagant grace!
Rohr and Ebert name a more modern example of what it looks like when a phobic gets set on fire. Oscar Romero was a quiet, unassuming, traditionalist Catholic priest who served in El Salvador. The church saw him as a loyalist who would fall into line, which would be important since they had brokered a deal with the Salvadorian government to bow down to their political power. The church would become a tool of their dictatorship, and Romero would be a tool of the church. Liberation theologian Catholics lamented when Romero was chosen to be the archbishop of the capitol of San Salvador, wondering if they could even worship alongside such a weak sell-out. In 1977, when he was chosen, the pieces were in place for the oppressive regime to have their way.
Then, a priest was murdered, alongside an altar boy and an old farmer, in a tiny village in Romero’s jurisdiction. When he came to the church to retrieve the Eucharist, they refused and laughed him away… “It’s just old Oscar. What is he going to do?”
They soon found out. Romero said that that moment was his “conversion.” He began to stand up for the common Salvadorians and call out the injustice of the government and the rich oligarchy. The church leadership freaked out and told him to stand down, but he only got louder. His radio sermons were broadcast in every town and village across the country, calling for Christians to stand against the violence of the regime. Eventually, in an attempt to silence him, they blew up the radio transmitter, but Romero didn’t slow down. He preached the truth even louder:
“As a Christian, I don’t believe in death without resurrection…As a shepherd I am obliged by God’s mandate to give my life for those whom I love, that is all Salvadorians, even those who are out to kill me…A bishop may die, but the church of God, which is the people, will never go under.”
Romero the “loyalist” chose loyalty to the risen Christ, not those who tried to use his name for their own power. Three years after his “conversion,” Romero was fatally shot during a sermon in a hospital. At his funeral, 80,000 people attended, though the military attacked and massacred nearly 40 worshippers. But Romero’s death is credited for bringing global attention to the oppressive regime, and the U.S. support of the unjust oligarchy. Because Romero heard the call to “feed my lambs,” the people were empowered to stand up against injustice. Twelve long and bloody years later, the people were finally free. It wasn’t until 2018 that Pope Francis declared him a saint, reminding the Church and the world how the power of Christ to feed and forgive invites us to do the same.
What will be your conversion? How will you choose to feed your neighbors, stand against injustice, and proclaim that fear and even death are powerless next to a risen and unexpected Jesus!?
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