Ambiguous

 

There’s a legend I hope is true. True because it carries with it a powerful message. At the end of the day, true or not true, there is a great moral to be learned. 

 

In 1495, Leonardo da Vinci was commissioned by the Duke of Milan, to paint a mural in the dining room of the Dominican convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan. While da Vinci was one of the most popular painters of this Renaissance period, he was also one of the most difficult to work with. He must have suffered from major ADD because he would take years to paint. Oftentimes, he would get up, walk away, travel, start other projects, all of it to the dismay of his patrons. As a matter of fact, it took him four years under intense pressure to finish the duke’s project.

 

One of the things he was very careful about was choosing the models he would use for the characters in the scene he was going to paint. For this project in a refectory, he wisely chose the Last Supper. For the task, he needed 13 models… one for Jesus and another 12 for the apostles. He worked first in the center to make sure everything else flowed from the core. That, of course, was the image of Christ.

 

He went to a public square and observed the people as they walked from one place to another for days. One man, in particular, caught his eye. He saw in his face the kind of expression he was looking for in the Son of God. After speaking with him and offering some money to pose, the man agreed, and they went off to his studio. After several weeks of work, he paid the man, and he was gone.

 

Months and even years went by as da Vinci slowly made his way through the various images and background scenery. With little provocation, he would one day wake up, saddle a horse, and ride off to distant cities for one reason or another, much to the chagrin of the Dominican friars and the Duke of Milan. Eventually, he came upon the image of Judas Iscariot, the betrayer.

 

For this model, he knew where he needed to go. He went to a local prison and asked the warden to see some of the inmates. After careful consideration, he came upon a man convicted of murder who sat on death row. He looked into his eyes and realized this was the guy. He asked a local magistrate to postpone the prisoner’s execution so he could use him as a model. The magistrate agreed. As the prisoner sat in the refectory shackled to his chair, da Vinci began to paint, but the man began to cry. At one point, da Vinci stopped and asked him why he shed so many tears. The prisoner explained to him that as he sat there posing for Judas, he couldn’t help but think how three years earlier he had sat in that very room posing for Jesus.

 

Now, I don’t know how true the story is, and, if you want, you can ask your art history teachers to verify its veracity, but one thing is absolutely true: the potential for both good and evil exists in each and every one of us. Every single person in the world, every person sitting in this chapel, every single member of the class of 2025, has that potential.

 

The potential for good is called original grace. It is divine and part of our DNA from the moment of conception and later sanctified at the moment of our baptism. It is strengthened every time we approach the altar and receive the Eucharist, it is renewed every time we enter the confessional and purge ourselves of our sins and receive God’s mercy, and it is reinvigorated when at our confirmation we take that significant step as men to confirm our faith.

 

The potential for evil is called original sin. It is man-made and we are infected with it also from the moment of our conception and liberated from it at the moment of our baptism. That evil is struck a heavy blow every time we go to communion, every time we confess our sins, and every time we express and experience love, the most powerful force in the universe. While we are clearly and most definitely defined by grace, the good, we are also affected by sin, the evil.

 

But we have a choice. No matter what the circumstances, no matter what our situation, no matter where we are or who we surround ourselves with, we have a choice. We can choose to do good or we can choose to do evil. We can choose to be like Christ or we can choose to be like Judas.

 

That being said, let’s talk about Peter.

 

I don’t know who da Vinci chose to model Peter, that bit of information did not make the history books or the lores of legend, but we have a very clear picture of this man described amply in the Scriptures. While Jesus personifies the good for us and Judas can personify the bad, Peter seems to personify a little of both. Peter, I would say, is ambiguous. That’s a great word “ambiguous.” It comes from two Latin words: “ambi,” meaning “both ways,” and “agere,” meaning “to act.” In other words, the ambiguous person is not very clear. At one point he can act one way and, then, at another point he acts another way.

 

There are so many moments throughout the Bible where Peter expresses ambiguity. At one point he boldly proclaims Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. Jesus goes on to praise him by saying, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father. And so, I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:17-18). But then, just a few verses later, when Jesus reveals to his apostles he must suffer and die at the hands of the chief priests and the elders, Peter, “the rock,” takes him to the side and rebukes him telling him that will never happen to him. At this, Jesus turns to Peter and calls him Satan and tells him to get behind him (vs. 21-23).

 

In just a few lines, Peter goes from being hailed “the Rock” to being called “Satan.” Talk about ambiguity.

 

This, my brothers and sisters, is the same Peter who dropped his nets to follow Jesus, the Peter who ate with Jesus, drank with Jesus, walked with Jesus, and fished with Jesus. This is the same Peter who ran to the tomb and was given the opportunity to be the first to walk in and see it was empty and experience the resurrection. But this is also the same Peter who refused to have his feet washed by Jesus, who violently cut off the ear of one of the Jewish guards when they arrested Jesus, and then denied the Lord not once, but three times. Ambiguous, ambiguous, ambiguous.

 

If we were to take a closer look, we can see a clear pattern here. Peter seems to say and do the right things when times are great. He’s all in when the loaves are multiplied, when the blind and the lame and the lepers are cured, and when the dead are raised. But when signs of suffering and death approach, he says and does the wrong things. Jesus says he has to suffer and die; Peter rebukes him. Jesus says I have to wash your feet; Peter questions him. Jesus is on trial and sentenced to death; Peter denies him.

 

And so, it oftentimes is but cannot be with us. We go on Junior Encounter and praise the name of Jesus because of the powerful experience of grace and the feeling of closeness to God. We make the sign of the cross when we walk up to the plate with bat in hand. We pray when we huddle as a team before a district soccer match. We humbly walk into a confessional or genuflect as we enter chapel for Mass when it is conveniently provided for us here at Belen. But then, we rebuke God when our mother is diagnosed with cancer. We question God when things don’t go our way. We deny God when Lucas Osuna unexpectedly dies. Ambiguous, ambiguous, ambiguous.

 

Take a lesson from today’s gospel.

 

In one of the greatest dialogues ever recorded in the bible, the resurrected Christ sits at breakfast with Peter and engages him in a conversation Peter knew was coming and was probably dreading. Three times Jesus asks Peter, “do you love me?” The questions are not ambiguous. They’re not complicated, not cryptic, not metaphorical, not rhetorical. Do you love me?

 

While those three questions were asked 2,000 years ago, they have continuously resounded throughout time and space and are asked of each member of the class of 2025 today. For as much as you would like, you can’t escape them. After years of formation at Belen Jesuit, years of theology classes, retreats, prayers and Masses, these questions are posed to you: Gentlemen, do you love Jesus? Gentlemen, do you love Jesus? Gentlemen, do you love Jesus?

 

What is your answer?

 

As you stand at the threshold of graduation, of closing one chapter of your life and beginning another, what do you say? As you prepare to leave the womb that has been Belen, a place that has provided for you the opportunity to pray, to learn, to go to Mass, to confess your sins, to create friendships that will last your whole lives. As you prepare to go to a more hostile environment like college, to test the choppy waters of moral uncertainty, disordered wokeness, and extreme secularism where being a disciple of Christ is questioned and oftentimes ridiculed. What are you prepared to answer?

 

Whatever it is, don’t be ambiguous.

 

Three times Peter assures Jesus, he does love him, and three times Jesus insists, “feed my sheep.” This shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you. After seven or four years of living under the mantra of being a “man for others,” it shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you that to love Jesus, means to serve his flock, to feed his sheep, to care for his fold. Ambiguity is washed away when the love we express for Jesus is put into practice when feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick. Ambiguity is dissolved when you go to Mass on foreign soil while your roommates stay in their dorms. Ambiguity is silenced when you speak openly about your faith and denounce injustice. Ambiguity has no chance when you seek out the Catholic student union or the Catholic Newman Center on campus and get involved.

 

My brothers, members of the class of 2025, now at the end of this journey, through your years at Belen you have answered many questions asked by your teachers that have successfully brought you to this moment. But there is still that one, lingering, and most important question that Jesus continues to ask you: do you love me? What is your answer? Whatever it is, don’t be ambiguous.

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