Memory and Healing

Third Sunday of Easter Year C

It’s strange but also true, that the most painful memories are usually the ones that stick, no matter how much you try to forget them. It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scars to show for happiness.

In today’s Gospel passage, we see both the memory of St Peter and the memory of the reader being invoked. But it is not just mere sentimentality that is being stirred here. Such memory is needed to understand the progression in Peter’s spiritual journey. On the eve of his Master’s death, Peter descends a path that almost leads to his destruction, a cause of great shame and guilt, a memory that he would rather choose to forget. And yet, our Lord does not wish for him to forget. This is so because our Lord does not wish to give up on him. Through the use of memory, our Lord begins the slow process of rehabilitation and restoration.

Chapter twenty-one of the Fourth Gospel seems like a strange addendum since the evangelist appears to have signed off at the end of Chapter twenty. This chapter begins with Peter going out to fish with some of the other apostles. His motivation is uncertain. By going back to his pre-disciple profession and way of life, is he trying to erase the memory of the years he had followed the Lord? Whatever may be the reason for this decision, it ends in futility. They fish all night and catch nothing, and then our Lord appears in the early morning on the shore and tells them to cast the net on the other side, and they take in a miraculous catch. The entire scene could only be described as déjà vu, at least it should for Peter. The same scenario had happened before. All this hearkens back to Peter’s original call to follow Jesus in the Gospel of St Luke, when at first he had said “depart from me for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). But there is a difference on this second occasion. At the beginning of his vocation, Peter wanted to flee from the Lord out of fear, but now, he longs to be united with Christ out of love.

If the first part of the story is an invitation to recall his initial vocation, the second part of the story recalls and recapitulates Peter’s greatest failure and disillusionment. Right at the very centre of today’s lengthy gospel story is the poignant scene of Jesus sitting on the shore cooking and warming Himself beside a charcoal fire. Even if you are not a student of Biblical Greek, you may be interested to note that the word used for that charcoal fire, anthrakia, only appears here and in another place in John’s Gospel; John 18:18. This other scene takes place in the courtyard of the High Priest, precisely at the point where Peter denied Jesus.

The fire evokes once again the scene of denial, the scene where Peter once stood by the fire and said, “I am not his disciple.” The past comes rushing back. Perhaps we can even imagine hearing the cock crowing. On the one hand, we see a Peter who is courageous and bold - he wants to be near his Lord in His hour of need. But Peter is terrified, also. He is in danger and knows it. And as he sits near the fire, Peter's courage gives way to fear. Now, our Lord provides Peter with another opportunity. Three times Peter had denied Christ from fear near a charcoal fire; three times he must profess Him in love near a charcoal fire, and three times will our Lord confer a new pastoral ministry on Peter. All of this is untying the knots by which Peter had bound his own soul. Wounded memories are dug up in order to be healed.

So, this dramatic scene turns out to be a story of memory and restoration. Confronting the Risen Jesus is not easy, especially for those who have betrayed Him. Standing in the light of the charcoal fire, Peter must first remember his failure and then own it. For Peter to move forward, his past must be assimilated with the present, to prepare him for the future. Peter had to recall both life-defining joyful moments as well as painful ones of failure and defeat, to be reborn in the light and new fire of the resurrection faith. He had to recall, to be recalled for duty. There is no other way.

Our faith, our Sacramental celebrations, the call to holiness and perfection are built on the foundation of our ability to remember. That is why the greatest affront to our faith, is the assault on our ability to remember. Modernists, who only believe in the efficacy of modern ideas and innovation, will claim that our history and traditions are antiquated and that these need to be abandoned, if we are to make any progress. They wish to erase the past in order to rewrite the future. Today, the liturgy, the Church’s sacred doctrines and even Sacred Tradition itself, are under assault. If the Church and her members lose the ability to remember, we will lose sight of the fundamental essence of our faith and mission.

What many modern people fail to acknowledge is that our humanity is defined and enhanced by our capacity to form and then transmit personal memories. I've learned over the years that guilt is one of the hardest things to bear. That may be the reason why we deliberately choose to suppress memories. By forgetting, we attempt to banish the guilt that comes with that memory to the dark recesses of the mind. But guilt itself cannot help us conquer sin. Guilt is the burglar alarm of our conscience, and while it can ring incessantly, it cannot heal. We cannot be healed, if we are unable to remember. Notice, how mistakes are often repeated when we do not learn from our history. Only the love of Jesus for us and our love for Jesus, can heal us. And He can only heal us when we are prepared to remember. This is what St John meant when he said, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear …” (1 John 4:18)

And so, we are invited to gaze deeply into the flames – we see in the flames not only a reflexion of our worst failures but also, the future path of our redemption. Though tempted to look away, we must return our gaze to the fire that burns brightly before us. The fire may reveal the dross hidden in our hearts, but the fire also dispels the darkness of the night. In the burning flames of God’s love, we recognise both the wounds caused by our sinfulness, and the healing offered by Christ. As we look into the flames, we see our Lord looking back at us. In the flames, in the memories of our past faults and failures, we see Him forgiving our offenses, taking our penalty, healing our wounded souls, and restoring us to communion with God. In the flames, we will discover our healing, at the hands of Jesus.