Solemnity of St. Peter and St. Paul
Bishop of Lake Charles
Homily for the Solemnity of St. Peter and St. Paul
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception
“The Lord stood by me and gave me strength.” II Timothy 4:17
In Rome once for my twenty-fifth anniversary of priestly ordination, I walked along the street we called the “back way” to the university. Avoiding the large avenues, I walked this small, cobble-stoned Roman street, via de Governo Vecchio. The street was not without significance. The great Roman artist Borromini had designed the entire neighborhood. Here St. Philip Neri founded his oratory, which encouraged lay involvement in study and prayer long before the Second Vatican Council. In the parish church, in which Pope Pius XII as a boy had worshipped, were to be found three masterpieces by Peter Paul Rubens. Also, not far, through a small unassuming door was a room not much larger than our cry room here where worked the silversmith, Signor Tavani, who had made my chalice in 1975.
Not having seen him in twenty-five years, I walked in to say hello. The shop was as I remembered it, a mess, tables covered with drawings, tarnished silver, boxes from the Vatican for refinishing, a project here, a project there. The business had been in the family for over 100 years. I re-introduced myself and reminded him that he had made my chalice. Signor Tavani became animated. Let us see, he said. He went to an ancient cabinet, opened it, took out a large notebook, and paged to 1975. “Provost, si,” he pointed. There on the pages were hand drawings and listings for every chalice he had ever made. On this particular page was a hand drawing of my chalice, with all the specifications, and the price. As we parted, his Italian eyes filled. He had been so pleased to see one of the old students from the “Collegio” for whom he had made one of his masterpieces. I thought of St. Paul’s words, “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith” (II Timothy 4:7).
Catholicism can be a good many things to different people, but for those who know it best, it is continuity. This continuity is based upon the sacrifices of many, beginning with Christ Himself who offered His Body and Blood on the cross of Calvary and continues to give it to His followers in the Eucharist. Something like Signor Tavani, Christ seems to be always opening His treasure chest and revealing the gift of Himself, a gift He gave long ago and continues to offer now. There is nothing artificial and plastic about this world. It is the real thing.
When Jesus wanted to ensure that continuity, He said to St. Peter recorded in St. Matthew’s Gospel, “You are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:17-19). Peter was not without his weaknesses, but as the history of the Church and the world has shown for 2,000 years, who is not? And it is precisely in this that Christ proves His power. As St. Paul would make clear, God allows our weakness so that we can be convinced that any power comes from Him and not from us. In this way we know the grace is Christ’s, not ours. “The gospel preached by me is not of human origin,” St. Paul writes. “I did not receive it from a human being,… but it came through a revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:11-12).
I thought about that when the 261st successor of St. Peter placed his hands on my head to ordain me a priest. What I was to become, I knew not. God would take me, just as he had Pope Paul VI and every other priest, with whatever weaknesses, and do what He wanted, not what I wanted. Of this I was sure, and with age I have become more and more convinced of this truth. And later the next day, when on the same precise spot where one successor of Peter had ordained me, another successor, the 263rd, greeted my ordination class and gave us Peter’s blessing twenty-five years later.
I thought about Signor Tavani proudly paging through his notebook. The modern world of artificiality, reproductions, and parvenus will never understand it. The world of Catholicism is the exact opposite of what it is. The modern world can often deceive. The Church, on the other hand, is exactly what it appears to be, a divine institution in human vesture, with a lot of good, occasional human failings, with abundant success and some human weaknesses, always showing that any power comes from Christ and not from any human.
When St. Paul entered Rome two or more years before his martyrdom there, that entry is described in the New Testament. Acts reads, “This is how we finally came to Rome. Certain brothers from Rome who heard about us came out as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns to meet us. When Paul saw them, he thanked God and took fresh courage” (Acts 28:14-15). St. Paul’s great fear, he said, was that his listeners would hear but not understand. I had walked those stones where Paul greeted his fellow Christians around the year 60 A.D. A Roman historian, Tacitus, describes how four years later Emperor Nero, seeking a scapegoat for a devastating fire in Rome, blamed the Christians and began the first major persecution of the young religion. Peter and Paul no doubt met their deaths around this time, and Signor Tavani made my chalice and the Gospel continues to be preached in Louisiana.
After my little walk, I went up to the roof of the old seminary. There with a commanding view of Rome was inscribed over the door a verse from an old Roman hymn, “Felix Roma.” “Oh happy Rome, you have been bathed in the blood of the princes of the apostles, who now share their glory with you.” Jesus had asked Peter, “Do you love me?” Peter had answered three times, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you” (John 21:17). Peter had no way of knowing the full implications of what “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17) would mean. Now Peter’s mortal remains rest with most of the 263 that had followed him to Rome. The sheep are still fed, and Signor Tavani still makes his chalices.