Simon, Do You Love Me?
Elia Carrai - It is impossible for me to hear these words of Don Giussani without thinking of what I heard Don Julián Carrón, who succeeded him after his death, say many times about these very passages. In these passages, Giussani describes identifying himself with the relationship between Christ and Peter. I have heard Don Carrón say many times that one can live life without making the relationship between Christ and Peter the object of habitual memory, daily reflection, and continuous return. Yet, it is within this relationship that the mystery of man is revealed. Man is infinite in his needs, greatness, and aspirations, yet he experiences his limits. This relationship shows how the infinite mystery of God reveals itself to man’s finite nature.
In this mystery, the infinite yet limited man encounters the infinite mystery of God, who reveals His authentic face. It is there that Peter’s misery and poverty meet Christ’s gaze, which is full of passion for him, for humanity, and of goodness and forgiveness. It is there that we discover and experience the true face of the mystery. We have heard that the face of the mystery is mercy; it is goodness, love for us, and a paternal love without any limits. This is why we must continually return to this encounter between our poverty and the greatness of God’s gaze, which becomes tangible in our reality.
We heard Giussani say that within such an encounter, everything changes: a new morality emerges, and a new understanding of oneself, of things, and of reality develops. “In the story of a great love, in the experience of a great love,” Giussani said, quoting Guardini, “everything becomes an event.” Like a boy who falls in love, the next day he wakes up feeling resurrected, reborn, full of promise, because she is there; the girl he loves is there, and her face is present. What matters most is no longer measurements, one’s own schemes, one’s own attempts to improve oneself. What matters is that she is there.
Thus, in this passage, in this seventh episode we have heard, we see how Christianity stands in stark contrast to a moralism we construct ourselves. Because moralism, we have heard, is ultimately a calculation. The Pharisee is devoted to order; for him, the ideal is being in order. Therefore, he defends morality as something he can achieve, as the order he can establish in his life, by which he measures himself. How often do we measure ourselves, live within the anguish of our measurements, of our frustrating attempts? How often do we surprise ourselves not knowing how to love, not knowing how to stand before our children, before the woman we love, before what is asked of us in life, in work, before reality? But to get out of this condition, out of this failure, the point is not to put ourselves in order. The point is whether we can encounter in life a gaze that understands us, even in our poverty—a gaze that is not scandalized by us and does not seek to measure us. The point is whether we can glimpse a gaze that transcends all measures, a gaze that embraces everything without judgment.
Faced with Jesus’ question, “Do you love me?”—we have heard—Peter replies, “Yes, you know everything, you know that I love you.” It is not that Jesus asks Peter this question with the subtle intention of reproaching him. Nor is it that Jesus asks Peter this question three times simply to remind him of the pettiness of his denial. But Jesus asks Peter this question to elicit Peter’s self-awareness, so that Peter may realize there is something greater than his denial—something Christ is already focusing on. Christ is not looking at his denial. He asks this to bring forth Peter’s true self-awareness, so that Peter may discover that beyond his denial lies something greater and truer: his love for Christ.
But how is it possible that Christ became the center of Peter’s affection? Why did Peter love Christ? This is another decisive question we heard. When Jesus, in the synagogue at Capernaum, is not afraid to ask his disciples, “Do you also want to leave?” Peter responds, “If I leave you, where shall I go? You alone have the words that explain life.” Don Giussani says that Christ’s presence continually invited people to become aware of their experiences with him, whether on the shore, the lake, the mountain, or the boat. He had become the center of Peter’s affection because, as Giussani emphasizes, Christ was the only one whose words made all of Peter’s human experiences feel understood. Christ took Peter’s needs seriously, illuminating even those that were unconscious and confused. Thus, for example, those who believed they needed only bread began to understand that man does not live by bread alone. Christ presents himself to them—and to us today—as someone who surprisingly meets them, helps them, explains their troubles, heals their physical and spiritual ailments, and responds to their needs within their own experiences. Their experiences, needs, and demands are essentially their humanity itself.
And so Don Giussani movingly told us that the problem of life is not about becoming good, cultivating our own plans for goodness, or following self-established values and ideals. Instead, it is about recognizing in life the presence of God’s gaze—a gaze that is not afraid of our evil or the evil in the world. Thus, the challenge is to grow in wonder at this presence, recognizing it, as Peter did, through an awareness of our own needs. Before Christ’s gaze, my friends, we need only be ourselves, fully embracing our questions and needs. Only then can we encounter a gaze like Christ’s in our lives. Christ’s present gaze embraces all of us, allowing us to live authentically, even in our poverty and sinfulness, with truth, pain, intensity, and a freedom that is infinitely greater and true.
This is why I believe we cannot live our faith without continually returning to contemplate the gaze between Christ and Peter—Christ’s loving gaze upon Peter’s humanity and journey. Peter looks at Christ, moved by finding someone who embraces his humanity entirely, without seeing it as a problem to solve. Christ loves Peter’s humanity and reveals that the value of life is Christ Himself. This is not an abstract idea, a moral code, or a law. By following Christ, Peter discovers that the value of life is Christ, and thus, he spends the rest of his life desiring to live Christ’s life ever more fully.