Today is a rare Sunday that I have off. I served at the Sunday Vigil Mass last night. In the past, I have tried, albeit with limited success, to take a break the first Sunday of each month. It feels kind of weird.
Last Sunday, Sr. Sophia Michalenko's The Life of Saint Faustina Kowalska: The Authorized Biography fell into my hands. I started reading it in conjunction with re-reading Faustina's Diary. Now, I probably have more reservations about private revelation than most Catholics. One of the unique features of private revelations, even those Sister Faustina claimed to receive that are "approved" by the Church, is that they are not de fide (i.e., of the faith). In other words, nobody is required to believe in them. In fact, a good Catholic can reject them.
But I do think that since 2000, when Pope John Paul II, in accordance with what Christ asked of Faustina, declared the Second Sunday of Easter "Divine Mercy Sunday," thus making Faustina's message of Divine Mercy universal in scope, that it's hard to simply ignore it. It is also the case that there is likely no sustained instance of private revelation that does not present some theological difficulties.
I personally believe that Helena Kowalska, whose religious name is Maria Faustina, was chosen to bring the message of God's mercy given us in Christ Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit to the world. I believe this despite the apparent likelihood that some of the message with which she was entrusted was imperfectly conveyed and maybe even interpreted by its recipient in problematic ways. It really should go without saying that, at least in parts, some passages in St. Faustina's Diary are very timebound, conditioned by her milieu, as well as her human limitations. But this is also true of Sacred Scripture.
Tying my reading of the Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska to the readings this Third Sunday of Easter, particularly the Gospel, yesterday I came across these words, words that make a phrase I've used in my preaching for several years: "love is stronger than death" (#46). This is preceded by "Love endures everything" and is followed by "love fears nothing" (ibid). I can think of no better way than to describe the message of today's Gospel. The context of these words, which are Faustina's own, describes her experiencing "the Passion of the Lord Jesus in [her] body" (#46).
Crucifixion, by Caravaggio, 1601
In our Gospel we are told, before his touching encounter with Simon Peter, that this "was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead" (John 21:14). (There's something about both three and the charcol fire in this passage.) What follows is Jesus asking Simon Peter three times whether he (Simon Peter) loves him (Jesus). In each instance, with what seems to be increasing frustration and perhaps a little impatience borne of humiliation, Peter answers not just "Yes, I love you, Lord" but buttresses his yeses by saying to Jesus "You know that..."
The humiliation that likely gives birth to Peter's frustration and impatience is his memory, which the Risen Lord surely seems to want him to recall, of his three-fold denial after Jesus' arrest. No doubt, remembering this caused Peter great pain. It is not until his final reply to Jesus's question "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" that Peter bares his soul, as it were, to the Risen One, saying "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you" (John 21:17).
Our Responsorial today highlights something easily missed: remembering our sins in order to be forgiven them. Such a calling to mind is as painful as it is necessary. Either you do this or there is no way of truly experiencing Divine Mercy. And so today we sing: "I will praise you, Lord, for you have rescued me."
You see, the question is never "Does Jesus love me?" He loves you and there's nothing you can do about it! It is his love for you and for me that raised him from the dead (Christus resurrexit quia Deus caritas est- Christ is risen because God is love). Hence, "love is stronger than death!" Do you love Jesus enough to entrust yourself completely to his care come what may? In this moment, Peter does just that.
As a result of the mercy he receives, Peter, in this frank encounter with the Risen Lord, repudiating the fear that caused him to deny the Lord three times, entrusts himself wholly to Jesus. This prompts Jesus to then allude to the "kind of death [Peter] would glorify God" (John 21:19). Tradition hands-on that Peter was crucified in Rome, possibly during the Neronian persecution.
As the story goes, not considering himself worthy to die in the same way Jesus died, Peter demanded to be crucified upside-down. His being led where he would never have gone on his own ties back to Saint Faustina's experience, which somewhat mirrors that of the Little Flower, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux (with whom Faustina claimed to have a mystical encounter) of what it means to entrust yourself wholly to Divine Mercy, which is but another name for Jesus Christ.
Sadly, death is real. Its inevitability weighs on us more and more the older we get. So, the question becomes more pressing over time: Is love stronger than death? This question can only be answered existentially, that is, through the experience of courageously enduring "everything" in love. This brings to mind a passage from one of the most sublime chapters that can be found in our uniquely Christian scriptures:
There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:18-19)This is what it means to say with Saints Peter, Thérèse, and Faustina- "Jesus, I trust in You."
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