Brief synopsis of the readings: You probably know this, but for much of the the Easter season we read from the Acts of the Apostles, the chronicle of the earliest days of the Christian Church. Here the Sanhedrin (the Jewish government) demanded that the apostles stop teaching about Jesus’ resurrection. Peter responded by telling them that he will choose God’s demand over the demand of the Sanhedrin. John’s Gospel describes several scenes with the resurrected Jesus and his apostles. Several apostles (who made their living catching fish) spent the night catching nothing; at dawn they recognized Jesus onshore and when Jesus told them to cast their nets on the right (starboard) side of the boat they caught their fill. Peter recognized Jesus and brought the boat back to shore. They ate breakfast and Jesus asked Peter this question: “Do you love me?” Three times Jesus asked Peter and three times Peter answered that he did. Each time Jesus demanded: “Feed my lambs.” Finally Jesus tells Peter that his life will no longer be his own, but that will follow Jesus.

Much as I love the season of Easter, there are some things that drive me crazy. We Catholics know that the first reading often comes from the Old Testament but not always. During Easter we read from the Acts of the Apostles. The Second Reading (that I don’t include in this blog) mostly comes from the letters of Paul. And we read the Gospel from only four sources: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

And so Easter brings us readings out of order. John’s Gospel tells us about the interval between Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. But the first reading describes Peter and the rest of the apostles standing up to the authorities. How can this happen?

I believe the heart of our understanding comes not from the first reading or the Gospel, but from the scene where Peter denies Jesus. We read this from Holy Week where Jesus told Peter that he would deny him three times before the cock crowed. Offended, Peter swore this would not happen, but it did. After Jesus’ arrest, Peter was recognized as one of Jesus’ disciples by several people. As the charges grew Peter grew increasingly profane in his denial of his relationship with Jesus.

So where does Peter go from here? Clearly if Jesus was not the Messiah the apostles go on with their lives and regret their support for this fraud. They likely would have drifted away from each other and tried to forget this part of their lives.

But Jesus was not a fraud and Peter needed, on some level, to have a conversation about his triple denial. Peter needed forgiveness and reconciliation. Today’s Gospel gives us several scenes but I wish to focus only on the interaction between Jesus and Peter.

Jesus predicted that Peter would deny their relationship three times before dawn and he did. When Peter recognized his sin, he ran. I don’t blame him: I would have done the same thing. And when Peter saw that Jesus did indeed rise from the dead he must have experienced a series of emotions.

Perhaps the initial emotion, after disbelief, was joy. His friend and teacher, his mentor and leader, was back from the dead. But I have to believe that his next emotion, milliseconds later, was fear. What if Jesus’ response to Peter was anger? What if Jesus’ last memory of Peter was Peter’s denial of Jesus? What if Jesus’ response to Peter was, worse than anger, disappointment?

Instead Jesus asked Peter a question that nobody else would have asked: “Do you love me?” Humiliated and horrified, Peter said this: “Of course I love you.” But Jesus demanded that Peter answer him three times the same way. And Peter did.

The crux of these readings depends on Peter’s decision to accept the forgiveness given him.

Virtually all of us can easily recall the foolishest/stupidest/meanest thing we’ve ever done. It may well have ended a job or a friendship or a marriage. Or maybe not: perhaps our gravest sin occupies nothing other than the space in our brain. Likely it didn’t but we live with that reget all the same. And, for a variety of reasons, many of us don’t have the opportunity to be forgiven.

Here Peter catches a break on many levels, and ultimately so do we. Because, even though Peter had to put in some work answering Jesus’ question(s), he gave the right answer.

And more to the point, Peter accepted the forgiveness he was offered. When Jesus asked: “Do you love me,” Peter could have given a number of answers. He surely loved Jesus but it would have been easy for Peter to discount the question and instead profess that he was not worthy of Jesus’ love.

Now truth be told, none of us are worthy of Jesus’ love, but that’s not the point. The point is this: Jesus suffered, died, and rose from the dead so that we can live forever and not be defined by our worst moments.

But while we seemingly have no trouble believing that we are granted eternal life, we have great trouble believing we are forgiven. And there is good reason for that: our ability to forgive each other is limited. If someone wounds us, over and over, our desire (and ability) to forgive eventually runs out. Sometimes it runs out quickly, sometimes it takes us a long time. We even have a name for someone who forgives too much: an enabler.

So we incorrectly decide that God’s desire or capacity to forgive is also finite. The hubris in this statement speaks clearly but it causes real damage: we lose out on who we can be by deciding God won’t (or shouldn’t) forgive us. When we do this we don’t limit God’s love or forgiveness, but our ability to do great things.

Peter did great things. But he was able to do this only when he truly believed Jesus forgave him. And Jesus clearly forgave him when he said to him (3 times) to “feed my sheep.” This told Peter that there was a path forward for him. Because of this he and the rest of the apostles were able to stand up to the Sanhedrin, the smartest and most powerful guys in the room, and refuse to be silent.

They laid the foundation for the church that continues to feed us to this day and they did it only because they honestly, truly, completely believed that they were forgiven for their worst sin.

And what of us? Do we live our best selves or do we continue to live in the shame and regret of our worst sin? As a hospice chaplain I am blessed to walk with people in the last chapter of their lives and that perspective gives me a tremendous opportunity. Most people come to the end of their lives with a reasonable understanding. They know they have had good days and bad days, but on the whole they look back on their lives with the belief that they did the best they could. They look on their future with hope and mercy.

But sometimes I meet someone who is hesitant to share his or her story. Eventually I find out the secret they don’t want me to know: their story includes an unmarried pregnancy or a time when they didn’t speak up at a meeting that could have avoided great harm. Or it was a horrible moment with their spouse or children. Or they regret how they treated a parent who faced their same last chapter and they took the easy way out.

Whatever the event, they tell me how their regret limited their lives. They tell me that no matter what they did, the memory of their regret makes them feel like they aren’t worthy of doing great things. It made them not reach or accept what they could do.

The Peter we read in Acts of the Apostles would never have been the St. Peter we see as the first Pope unless he fully accepted that Jesus forgave him. Only because of this was Peter able to lead the early church.

And it’s the same with us. Whether we call it “poor self esteem” or our inability to forgive ourselves, we need to recognize that this limits us to be our best selves. And it limits our ability to best serve each other. Despite our limited ability to love, serve, and forgive, God’s ability does not limit. Discipleship calls us to stretch our ability to love, serve, and forgive. By doing this, and only by doing this, we can build the Kingdom of God on earth.