What God Deserves

 

(Twenty-seventh Sunday of the Year (A): This homily was given on October 4, 2026 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I.  Read Matthew 21:33-43.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-seventh Sunday 2026]

IOU

Three letters that stand for something we’d rather not have in our relationships with other people.  After all, no one enjoys being in debt.  But even if we have no balance on any of our credit cards at the present time (a nice thought, isn’t it?), and no mortgage on our house, and no remaining car payments left on our current vehicle—even if we have no human debts whatsoever—we do still have one very big IOU that we need to recognize and deal with: the one we owe to God!

This is a truth that comes through in the parable we just heard from Matthew 21.  First, a little background on the story: 

When Jesus told this parable during his earthly ministry, he was directing his message toward the chief priests and the Pharisees of his time—although the story actually involved the entire history of Israel in the Old Testament. 

Over the centuries God (symbolized here by the vineyard owner) had entrusted the care of his people (his vineyard) to certain religious leaders—like the chief priests and the Pharisees.  (These leaders are represented by the “tenants” in the parable.)  It was their responsibility to instruct the people in the truth, and to lead them by example, so that they would bring forth good fruit: holiness, righteousness, charity, etc.  And periodically God would send special servants to them (namely, the prophets) in order to, in a certain sense, “collect the fruit”—fruit that these religious leaders OWED to the Lord!

But very often these authorities (who weren’t teaching the truth) attacked the prophets: some, as it says here, they beat, others they stoned, and still others they had killed.

Finally the owner decided to send his own son to them, thinking “they will certainly respect him.”  Obviously, the son—who is killed in the story out of jealousy and greed—represents Jesus, who would soon be killed in reality.

The end of the parable prophesies the beginning of the Church, the new Israel—which will be composed, Jesus indicates, of men and women who will take seriously the call to give God good fruit—the good fruit that he deserves!

Now that’s the point that stood out to me as I prayed over this story in preparation for this homily.  Notice, the good fruit the religious leaders of Israel were supposed to help people produce in their lives—this good fruit is not presented in the story as some kind of “free will offering.”

It’s presented as an obligation!  It was, in a very real sense, their IOU to the owner! 

Note the wording in the parable: “When vintage time drew near, he [i.e., the vineyard owner] sent his servants to the tenants to obtain his produce.”  The produce was clearly something they owed!  And again, later on in the story: “He [once again, the vineyard owner] will put those wretched men to a wretched death and lease his vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the proper times [in other words, who will give him what he deserves].”

God certainly wants us to love him and serve him freely and willingly (and hopefully we do!): but, from another perspective—equally as valid—it is proper to say that we, his creatures, owe him!

We owe him our love and our obedience and our service!  And this IOU we have toward the Lord has very practical implications for our daily lives. 

Let me share a few of them with you this morning.  One of the things we owe God on the practical level is our best effort.  Have you ever thought of that before?  We owe the Lord our very best effort—which, incidentally, includes when we come to Mass!  In fact, I would say that in some sense it starts here!

I’ve had people say to me, “Does it really matter that I come to Mass late every week (or almost every week)?  Isn’t it good enough that I’m here?”  No, it’s not.  Why?

Because God deserves your best effort—and mine!  Barring some unforeseen delay that could not be avoided, he deserves our best effort to be here on time!  And he’s deserving of our attendance here until the end!

Others say, “Why can’t I wear sloppy or revealing clothes when I come to church?  Does God really care what I wear?”  That, my brothers and sisters, is the wrong question!  The right question is, “Should I care about what I’m wearing when I’m on my way to see the King of kings and the Lord of lords?  Does he deserve clean, modest clothes and a well-groomed appearance?”

I think he does.

Here’s something else God deserves: He deserves some quality time from us every day in prayer.  Now if we really consider the Lord to be our best friend, it shouldn’t be any burden at all to give him what he deserves in this regard! 

A typical teenage boy can’t wait to talk to his girlfriend on the phone at some point during the day.  No one has to prod him to do it, because he cares about her.

In a similar way, if we really love God, it shouldn’t be a problem to give him—in addition to attendance at Sunday Mass—15 minutes or more of personal prayer time during the course of any given day, and perhaps also a Holy Hour once a week. That should be easy.

God also deserves the proper development of our gifts.  This is one reason why you young people should be studying hard and applying yourselves in school!  God has given us all the talents and abilities we possess.  We owe it to him to use and develop these gifts for the good of our families and for the good of society at large.  There’s an old saying, “What you have is God’s gift to you; what you do with it all is your gift to God.” 

But it’s a gift that he deserves!

And finally, here’s one that many of our Protestant brothers and sisters understand a lot better than some of us Catholics do: Under normal circumstances, God deserves at least 10% of our gross income!

This practice is known as “tithing,” and it was a “given” in Old Testament times.  For example, in the Book of Sirach it says, “In generous spirit pay homage to the Lord, be not sparing of freewill gifts.  With each contribution show a cheerful countenance, and pay your tithes in a spirit of joy.  Give to the Most High as he has given to you, generously, according to your means.” (Sirach 35: 7-9)

The idea was that God, who is the ultimate source of all we have and are, deserves the first 10% of the fruits of our labor.  This teaching, incidentally, was never officially abolished either by Jesus or by his Church—consequently I and many others would say that it should still be a guideline for us today in our charitable giving.  In fact, the New Testament encourages even greater generosity on the part of Christians (of course, according to one’s means).  Consider, for example, the generosity of the earliest followers of Christ.  In the Book of Acts it says, “Those who believed shared all things in common; they would sell their property and goods, dividing everything on the basis of each one’s need.” 

Those early Christians lived in a different culture and under a different economic system than we do right now.  Hence, it isn’t necessary for us to imitate them exactly by selling everything we have.  However, the New Testament does challenge us to embrace their attitude of selfless, charitable giving.

Besides, God deserves it!

And one little footnote concerning this practice: A parishioner told me once about a priest who gave a homily on tithing several years ago.  This priest happened to live near a gambling establishment, and in his homily he told his parishioners that they had an obligation to tithe on whatever amount they gambled!  So, if they gambled $1,000, they were obliged (at least in his mind) to give $100 to some charitable cause. 

Personally, I like that idea!  I throw it out today for your prayerful consideration.

And remember, you can’t out-give God, as my friend John Ahern—God rest his soul—would say.  Those who tithe will typically tell you that they have never been in want, and that their needs have always been met.

Such is one of the temporal blessings of tithing.  But there are others also, which are not of this world.  I mentioned my friend John Ahern a moment ago.  John was a successful businessman from Maryland, who probably gave away about 20% of his gross income.  I knew he did this, and so in the early 1990s I asked him to remember me and my work with youth when he was doing his tithing, and at Christmas that year he sent me a check for $10,000!  We used that money to start bringing teens to the Steubenville Youth Conference, and for other activities aimed at converting young people.

On Judgment Day, I believe that John and his wife Peggy will be greatly rewarded for helping bring many teenagers here in Westerly to Christ—and even a few into the priesthood and religious life: people they didn’t even know during their lives on this earth. 

Which brings me to the thought I’ll leave you with: When we give God what he deserves in terms of our treasure, our time, our prayer, our talent, and our best effort, he doesn’t give us what we deserve—which is actually good news!

You see, when we give the Lord what he deserves, he turns around and he gives us what we don’t deserve!  He gives us his strength; he gives us his peace; he gives us his joy; he gives us his mercy; and, in the end, he gives us his life—forever!

Is It Good to Change Your Mind?

Pope St. Paul VI

(Twenty-sixth Sunday of the Year (A): This homily was given on September 27, 2026 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Matthew 21: 28-32.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-sixth Sunday 2026]

 

I knew a man that I did not care for

And then one day this man gave me a call

We sat and talked about things on our minds

And now this man he is a friend of mine

If you’re over 65—like I am—you might recognize those words as some of the lyrics to a popular song of the 1960s, “Reach out in the Darkness”.  I thought of them in preparation for this homily, because they’re the words of a man who has obviously changed his mind.

In this case, what the man did was a good thing—since it led to the healing of a bad relationship he had with another human person.  But the act of changing one’s mind is morally neutral in and of itself.  That’s important for us to realize. 

In other words, the act can be either morally good or morally evil: it all depends on WHAT YOU’RE CHANGING YOUR MIND ABOUT!

Today’s gospel parable of the man with two sons provides us with a perfect illustration of this truth.  Notice that both boys changed their minds in this story: the first initially refused to go to work in his father’s vineyard, but then he changed his mind and went; the second initially said he would go, but then didn’t.

In the first instance, the son’s act of changing his mind was good, because in doing so he ended up honoring his father by his obedience; in the second instance, the son’s act of changing his mind was bad, because in doing so he was refusing to obey the 4^th commandment.

Jesus used this story to reprimand the chief priests and elders of the people, who didn’t like John the Baptist, and who refused to change their minds about him, even after they saw tax collectors and prostitutes experience genuine conversions through John’s preaching and ministry.

The chief priests and elders refused to change their minds when they should have changed their minds because of pride—and probably also because of fear: they feared that if they accepted and honored John as a prophet, they’d lose some of their power and influence among the people.

Which only proves that human nature hasn’t changed much in 2,000 years! 

As was the case at the time of Jesus, people sometimes refuse to change their minds when they should change their minds, while others do change their minds when they should not. 

Concerning the latter phenomenon, do you know what Ted Kennedy, Bill Clinton, Jesse Jackson, Richard Gephardt and Al Gore have in common?

They all “changed their minds” on the abortion issue—when they shouldn’t have!  Most people don’t realize that all those politicians of the recent past were once pro-life.

But they didn’t stay that way.  They changed their minds in the wrong way for material gain and to increase their popularity.  Unfortunately, those are very common reasons why people change their minds when they shouldn’t.

So is the fear of punishment: you’ll recall that this is why Simon Peter “changed his mind” about Jesus on Holy Thursday evening in the courtyard of the high priest.

He was afraid of being hurt—or killed.

Or it can even be something as simple as laziness.  In fact, that’s probably why the second son in this parable changed his mind and never went to his father’s vineyard: he just didn’t feel like working that afternoon!

But, thankfully, it does work in the opposite direction sometimes.  Like the first son, many people do change their minds and end up doing what’s right—even when they might be tempted to do otherwise.

One example of this is Dr. William E. May, who taught moral theology for many years at Catholic University in Washington, D.C.  He passed away in 2014.  He was a married man with children and grandchildren—he was not a priest.  He became known in his later years as a staunch defender of the Church’s teaching on artificial contraception and on many other issues of personal morality. But it hadn’t always been that way.  In fact, 58 years ago—in 1968 to be exact—Dr. May was on the opposite side of the contraception issue.  He saw nothing wrong with it—and he was very vocal about that fact. 1968, of course, was the year that Pope Paul VI issued his famous encyclical, Humanae Vitae, in which he reiterated the Church’s traditional teaching on this subject, much to the chagrin of many Catholics—including theologians like young Dr. William E. May.  In fact, May was one of the more than 600 professors who signed the infamous “statement of dissent” as soon as the encyclical came out!

He was one of the pope’s biggest critics!

But he eventually changed his mind.  Which led him to write books defending and explaining the truth on this and many other moral issues.  As he later said, “I was beginning to see that if contraception is justifiable, then perhaps artificial insemination, test-tube reproduction, and similar modes of generating life outside the marital embrace are morally justifiable too. . . . I began to realize that the moral theology invented to justify contraception could be used to justify any kind of deed.  I saw that it was a consequentialist, utilitarian kind of argument, that it was a theory which repudiated the notion of intrinsically evil acts.  I began to realize how truly prophetic the pope had been, and how providential it was that he had been given the strength to resist the tremendous pressures brought to bear upon him.”

Dr. May could have added, “Pressures brought to bear on him by people like me!”

It was good for Dr. May to change his mind.

It was good for the first son in this parable to change his mind.

And sometimes it’s good for each and every one of us to change our mind.

May the Holy Spirit help us to know when those times are, and may that same Holy Spirit give us the courage we need to actually do it.

 

The Reward Will Be the Same, But People’s Capacity to Enjoy the Reward Will Be Different!

 

(Twenty-fifth Sunday of the Year (A): This homily was given on September 20, 2026 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Isaiah 55:6-9; Psalm 145:2-18; Philippians 1:20-27; Matthew 20:1-16a.) 

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-fifth Sunday 2026]

 

The reward will be the same, but people’s capacity to enjoy the reward will be different.

This is a very important truth for us to keep in mind when we’re trying to understand the parable we just heard from Matthew 20, this well-known story of the workers in the vineyard.

First of all, however, we need to make a crucial distinction: we need to distinguish between the primary meaning of this parable as it was told by Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago, and the legitimate—but secondary—application of the parable that people very often make.

The primary meaning of this story is that Gentiles, through God’s saving grace, have the same opportunity to go to heaven that Jews have.  That’s it, in a nutshell.  Here’s how one Bible commentary explains it:

This parable is addressed to the Jewish people, whom God called at an early hour, centuries ago.  Now the Gentiles are also being called—with an equal right to form part of a new people of God, the Church.  In both cases it is a matter of a gratuitous, unmerited, invitation; therefore, those who were the ‘first’ to receive the call have no grounds for complaining when God calls the ‘last’ and gives them the same reward. . . . Jesus leaves no doubt that although he calls us to follow different ways, all receive the same reward—heaven.”  (Navarre Bible Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, page 173.)

This brings us to the secondary application of the story, which is where people often get confused.  Let me frame the issue in this way: From the way the story is told, it seems that non-believers who convert and get baptized on their deathbeds—and lapsed Catholics who make a good and sincere confession right before they die—get the best of both worlds (so to speak).  They live their entire lives doing what they want and having a good old time, but in the end they get the same heavenly reward that someone like Mother Teresa gets!

So people read this text and say, “Why should I make the effort to know, love and serve God every day?  Why should I try to be holy and obedient to the Lord in all things?  Why should I fight the good fight and run the race and keep the faith?  What difference does it make?  According to what Jesus says here I can do whatever I want for my entire life, convert at the end, and I’ll get the same reward as the great saints who served God faithfully for their entire lives!” 

Ah yes, but these good people are forgetting one thing—one very important thing; as I said a few moments ago, the reward will be the same, but people’s capacity to enjoy the reward will be different.

Everyone, in other words, who dies in the state of grace will eventually get into the eternal kingdom of God—even if their conversion (or re-version to Christ) happened at the “11^th hour” of their life.  So the “reward” of every saved person will be the same: heaven.  But the capacity of a particular person—me, for example, to experience God and his blessings in the kingdom will be greater or lesser, depending on the level of holiness I attained during my earthly life.

Jesus indicated this when he talked about “the least” and “the greatest” in the kingdom of heaven, and when he spoke about the seat at his right hand and the seat at his left hand in his Father’s kingdom.  We also see an indication of it in John 14, where our Lord said, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”

St. Augustine described this situation by, in effect, comparing our souls to different sized containers.  Pope Benedict alluded to this idea of Augustine in one of his encyclicals when he wrote: “Man was created for greatness—for God himself; he was created to be filled by God. But his heart is too small for the greatness to which it is destined. It must be stretched.  [As St. Augustine says,] ‘By delaying [his gift], God strengthens our desire; through desire he enlarges our soul and by expanding it he increases its capacity [for receiving him].’”  (Spe Salvi, n. 33)

By following the advice that Isaiah gives us in today’s first reading and seeking the Lord faithfully through prayer and through the sacraments; by living in faith and performing acts of selfless charity; by growing closer to Jesus Christ and becoming more like him—that is to say, by growing in holiness each day—we increase our capacity for God. 

That’s Augustine’s point here.

This means that someone who has a conversion on his deathbed will probably have a much smaller capacity for God in heaven than a great saint like Pius X—or even compared to an ordinary Christian who grew in faith and in holiness for many years on earth.

The person who has a conversion at the end of his life will probably have a capacity for God in heaven that’s the size of a thimble.  Comparatively speaking, the ordinary, holy Christian will have a capacity for God that’s the size of a pint or quart; whereas the great saints of the Church like Pius X and Mother Teresa will be like gallons!

Now the interesting thing is, in heaven everyone will be full: everyone will be full of God and his grace!  But the fullness experienced by the thimble-sized soul will be a lot different than the fullness experienced by the gallon-sized soul of the saint! 

So yes, the reward will be the same, but people’s capacity to enjoy the reward will be different.

I was trying to think of another earthly analogy that I could use to conclude my homily today and drive home this point, and what came to me was the following example:

Imagine two men, John and Bill, who work for the same company.  One day the boss calls them into his office and says, “Gentlemen, you’ve done excellent work lately, and to show my appreciation I’m going to give you my two tickets to this Sunday’s Patriots’ game.  I’m going out of town this weekend, so I can’t use them.  Here they are.  Enjoy!—they’re great seats, on the 50 yard line, ten rows up.”

John and Bill say, “Thank you very much, sir!” and they immediately make plans to go to the game.

Here now is a little essential background information on these two men:

John has been a Patriots’ fan for as long as he can remember—ever since he was a little boy 60 years ago.  He’s been loyal to the team in good times and in bad—which includes the mid-1960s, when the Patriots were one of the worst teams in the old AFL.  He watches every game; he knows the statistics of all the key players; he has Patriots memorabilia all over his house!

Bill also is a Patriots’ fan—although he’s only been one for a couple of years.  One reason for that is that he’s originally from Australia, where “football” means something very different than it does here in the United States.  In fact, he’s still learning about our game.  For example, the last time he watched a game of American football on television, the punter punted the ball out of the end zone and Bill thought the man had just kicked a field goal!

So I ask you, in all likelihood which of these two men will enjoy Sunday’s Patriots’ game more?  Which one will have the capacity—the ability—to enjoy it more?

The answer, of course, is John.  Because John has been a faithful follower of the Pats for so many years; because he knows the game of football so well and has persevered with his team through thick and thin, HIS CAPACITY TO ENJOY THIS REWARD FROM HIS BOSS WILL BE MUCH, MUCH GREATER THAN BILL’S, since Bill barely knows what an American football is!

But notice—both men will have the same experience—the exact same experience; both will have the same reward from their boss—a free ticket to this game.  

Their reward will be the same, but their capacity to enjoy the reward will be different!

And so it will be for souls in heaven.

 

Persevering Peter

 

"Quo vadis, Domine?"

(Twenty-second Sunday of the Year (A): This homily was given on August 30, 2026 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Matthew 16: 21-27.) 

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Twenty-second Sunday 2026]

 

“Persevering Peter.”

 That’s the title of today’s homily: Persevering Peter.

Now when we think of Peter—and here I’m talking specifically about Peter before the Resurrection (in other words, the Peter we encounter during the earthly ministry of Jesus)—perseverance is probably not the first word that comes to mind.  Some words that do come to mind when describing the Peter we see during Jesus’ 3-year ministry (at least they come to my mind!) are words like: impulsive, weak, inconsistent, impatient, erratic and hot-headed.

But even back then he was also a man of perseverance—almost incredible perseverance.

Which is probably one of the biggest reasons why Jesus chose him to be the very first pope!

Can you imagine how frustrating and how discouraging it can be at times to be the spiritual leader of a worldwide community of faith that includes not only some of the greatest saints on the planet, but also some of the worst—some of the most reprehensible—sinners on the planet?

Obviously our present Holy Father, Pope Leo, needs an immense amount of perseverance to lead the Church in the midst of those circumstances.

And so did Peter 2,000 years ago! 

Well, by the grace of God, the man had it—in great abundance—even before Jesus rose from the dead and anointed him with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  We see Peter exercising perseverance throughout the gospels, but especially in passages like the one we heard last Sunday and the one we heard this morning (these two texts from Matthew, chapter 16).  Recall, for a moment, what we were told last weekend in our gospel reading: Jesus was with his apostles at Caesarea Philippi and there he asked them a crucial question: “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter spoke up and gave his famous answer: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God”; to which Jesus immediately responded, “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.  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.”

Peter must have felt like a million bucks when Jesus said those words to him.  I know that’s how I would have felt!  I’m sure he didn’t fully understand what our Lord meant in telling him these things, but he knew it sounded pretty good—especially the part about having “the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”

Well today’s gospel reading picks up where last week’s left off.  Jesus begins to teach his apostles that he will be a suffering Messiah, not a great earthly ruler like King David (which was the kind of Messiah the Jews were expecting at the time: someone who would get rid of the Romans and make Israel a great earthly nation again).

It was also the kind of Messiah Peter was expecting—which explains his reaction to this prophecy of our Lord about his suffering and death.  Peter says to him, in effect, “No way, Jesus!  That can’t possibly happen to you!  You’re the Messiah—you’re God’s anointed one—you’re gonna help us get rid of the Romans and become a great nation again!  You can’t suffer and die like that.”

Jesus immediately turns on Peter and says, “Get behind me, Satan!”

Why, oh why, did he call Peter, “Satan”?

It’s because at that moment Peter was saying to Jesus exactly what Satan would have wanted him to say to Jesus!  Satan, you see, did not want our Lord to go to the cross on Good Friday, because he knew that if Jesus died on that cross his kingdom would be destroyed—since the sacrifice of Jesus would make it possible for every human person to avoid hell and go to heaven!

This, incidentally, was the constant and most serious temptation that Jesus faced during his time on this earth: the temptation to abandon the mission the Father had given him and forget about the cross.  It was the temptation Satan threw at him in the desert just before his earthly ministry began; it was the temptation that Satan presented to him through the mouth of Peter in this event at Caesarea Philippi; and it was the last temptation our Lord faced as he hung on the cross.  (No, the last temptation of Christ had nothing to do with Mary Magdalene.  Please tell that to film director Martin Scorsese!)

Coming back now to Peter’s dialogue with Jesus: If you had been in Peter’s shoes that day, what would you have done?  How would you have responded?  Try to imagine this: Jesus, the Messiah, the only-begotten Son of the Father, doesn’t just reprimand you (that would have been bad enough!); he doesn’t simply tell you that you’re wrong—he actually goes so far as to call you “Satan”!

He equates you, in some way, with the devil himself!

I think most people, if they’re truly honest with themselves, would tell you that they would have been so undone—so completely devastated by these words of Jesus—that in all likelihood they would have walked away in despair and never come back.

I know I would have been tempted to respond in that way.

But Peter didn’t!  That’s what’s so amazing about him.

He didn’t throw in the towel; he didn’t despair.  In spite of the horrible feeling he must have had on the inside, he didn’t walk away like the rich young man did when Jesus challenged him to give up all his possessions.  Peter took the rebuke, and persevered.  He kept on following the Lord.

Peter’s perseverance was also evident at the end of the Bread of Life Discourse in John 6: Jesus told the people that he intended to give them his Body and Blood for their spiritual nourishment, and most of them freaked out!  Even a lot of our Lord’s disciples walked away.

But not Peter!  He persevered—as usual.  When Jesus said to his apostles, “Are you going to leave me, too?” Peter immediately responded, “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe; we are convinced that you are God’s holy one.”

Even on Holy Thursday, after he denied the Lord 3 times, he didn’t give up!  Judas did, but Peter didn’t.  And let’s remember, their sins were both grave: both betrayed their Lord and Savior.  Judas despaired and hung himself, but Peter came back and repented.

He always did.

I mention all this today because there are many times in our lives when we can be tempted to give up on God and our Catholic faith: when a loved one dies suddenly and unexpectedly; when we come down with a serious disease (Parkinson’s, cancer, heart disease—whatever it might be), when we’re praying for something for a long time and God doesn’t seem to be answering; when we find ourselves falling into the same sins over and over and over again.

In situations like these it would be good to say a prayer to St. Peter, asking for his special intercession so that we might receive from God the grace we need: the grace of perseverance—a grace that Peter had in such great abundance.

We need to pray because even persevering people can be tempted at times NOT to persevere!  Such was the case, apparently, even for Peter himself—at least on one occasion.

Some of you have probably heard the story.  It’s not found in the Bible, but in a very ancient Christian tradition.  The event happened during the terrible persecution of the Church under the Roman Emperor Nero.  Peter, of course, was Pope by then—the official leader of God’s New Testament people—but, in the midst of all the violence and confusion, he decided that enough was enough.  So he left the city.  He abandoned his post—and his flock—in fear, and fled from Rome on the famous Appian Way.

But as he was going along he ran into somebody—Jesus—walking in the opposite direction toward the city.  Peter said to him, “Quo vadis, Domine?” (“Where are you going, Lord?”)

Jesus answered, “I’m going to the city of Rome, to be crucified again.”

Peter got the message.  He turned around; he went back; and he courageously led the Church until he was martyred—crucified upside down—in that area now known as St. Peter’s Square.

People who persevere can sometimes be tempted—even strongly tempted—not to persevere.  But in the end, by the grace of God, they remain faithful.

Just like Peter.