Memorial of Saint Philip Neri, Priest
I have had facial hair of some kind for over 15 years. For the first time last fall, I chose to grow a full beard. In the work that I do, I meet a lot of new people on a regular basis so for many folks this year, they have only known me with a beard. Several times in the last few weeks, those same people have been in for a surprise as they’ve encountered me since I shaved the beard on Good Friday. One new student to CJ even asked me recently if I would grow the beard back because she can’t get used to the “new” look. My favorite thing to do though, is to share a picture of what I looked like on Holy Saturday (much to LeeAnn’s dismay). For one day, I shaved all of my beard and left only the mustache. The picture is quite alarming and the strangeness of the look was both humorous and ridiculous. With our feast today, I like to think that I was just channeling my inner St. Philip Neri.
St. Philip Neri, known for his deep spirituality, his sense of humor, immense joy, and flair for the ridiculous, is a saint after my own heart. Neri would do or say interesting things, like shave half of his beard, in an attempt to draw people into conversation, into conversion, into the love of Christ. “Well brothers, when shall we begin to do good?”--what a way to strike up a conversation! St. Philip was interested in drawing people into a dialogue about God. He had this uncanny ability to attract people with his joyous faith, yet keep them on their toes with his shrewd wit and deep humbleness. My favorite story of Neri is when he arrived at a dinner party with the elite class of Rome and had half his beard shaved clean off. Crazy, right? How many of us would have the confidence, or more appropriately, the faith in the love of God, to pull something like this off? St. Philip was willing to go to the extreme to serve God, to share the love and joy of his faith in Christ.
Our readings today reflect a similar sentiment. St. Paul continues to stir up controversy in his travels awaiting trial for causing “issues [for his accusers] about their own religion and about a certain Jesus who had died but who Paul claimed was alive.” (Acts 25:19) I’m sure in the eyes of onlookers and witnesses, and likely Festus, Paul was a lunatic for walking around preaching about a dead man. In the Gospel, Peter becomes “distressed” that Jesus keeps asking him the same thing over and over. Come one, Jesus, you already know the answer to this question. It’s getting a bit ridiculous at this point. Why do you keep asking if I love you?
We often worry more about what others think about us than what God thinks. Our fear of being laughed at, made fun of, or teased prevents us from taking risks, and sometimes even doing the right thing. God asks us over and over (and over…), as he does with Peter in the gospel, “do you love me?” Everything we do–every decision, deed, relationship–orients around this question. Our life’s work should endeavor to be united with Christ. We are called to be saints, called to holiness. Christ was crazy enough in love with us to go to the cross. To what extremes might we be willing to go to serve God? What is something that you can do that might look a little ridiculous? St. Philip Neri, pray for us!
Peace,
Brandon Meyer