Reflection from L’Arche Daybreak Community, Ontario, Canada

“Ask and it will be given to you.”
by Bethel Lee

July 13, 2007

Student Bethel Lee, right, hugs L'Arche Daybreak core member Carol Greg

Monday through Friday, Peter Porter goes to work. On Saturday, he stays home. And on Sunday, he attends a local Anglican church. Peter appreciates order; he likes everything to be just as it should be.

When I walked into the Green House my first day here at L’Arche, Peter was seated in one of his favorite spots in the house – the yellow sofa chair snuggled in the corner of the dining room. Peter takes on the very shape of the sofa as he sits down so low that his body bends into the shape of a block-letter S. Though observant, Peter remains as quiet as a mouse, and this helps him to blend in with the furniture even more. His other favorite place in the house is a wooden stool in the often bustling kitchen, where he likes to be seated when someone is cooking. Peter loves threatening to touch the food or pick his nose so that “the cook” (whoever is signed up to make dinner) will reply in a stern but playful voice, “You better not Peter – or I’ll give you a good one!” To which Peter coos back, “Ooooou.”

Peter doesn’t talk a lot beyond his playful threats, but he does ask questions. In fact, the same batch of questions are presented to the Green House assistants throughout the day, every day. Peter finds comfort in hearing the answer that he really already knows.

The recurring questions mostly involve what is scheduled to happen the next day. Accordingly, if it’s Friday he’ll ask, “I staying home tomorrow, right?” If it’s Saturday he’ll ask, “I going to church tomorrow, right?” And if it’s Sunday he’ll ask, “I going to work tomorrow, right?” And every time, as if for the first time, I reply, “That’s right, Peter. Tomorrow you…” stay home, go to church, or go to work – whichever is the correct answer.

When I first observed this exchange between Peter and one of the assistants, I secretly wondered, “Am I going to have the patience to play along? What if I get annoyed or frustrated in having to answer the same questions over and over?”

Thankfully, my worries were needless. Now that I have been a daily participant for more than a week, I recognize that Peter’s questions have become the foundation of our communication. I also have discovered that Peter’s questions are a source of comfort not only for him, but for me as well. I get to give Peter the exact thing he wants – the very answer he’s looking for – and that’s a source of great fulfillment for both of us.

In John 21 we read of another Peter, one who doesn’t appreciate the repetition of questions as much as Peter Porter does. Jesus asks Simon Peter three times if he loves him, and three times Simon Peter answers yes. The author, however, exposes the pain that Peter experiences when Jesus asks him for the third time, “Do you love me?”

 There are many different ways to interpret this dialogue between Jesus and Peter. Theologians have parsed the different Greek words that are used for “love,” and many pastors have connected Jesus’ three questions to Peter’s triple denial of his friend and Lord.

 Either way, I think any layman could identify with this situation. People often ask questions twice for clarification or reassurance, but when the same question is asked for the third time it seems to convey a sense of doubt. It is as if the answer itself is being questioned or, worse yet, rejected. If Simon Peter felt that Jesus was questioning the validity of his affirmative response, it would make sense that he would feel deeply hurt.

This association between questions and doubt, however, appears to be unknown to Peter Porter. When Peter asks me again and again what he will be doing the next day, it’s not because he didn’t believe me the first time. He just wants to hear me say it. And I’ve found that asserting the answer verbally gives me a more earnest desire to make sure that what I say is in fact true.

 I don’t think Jesus was drilling Simon Peter with the same question to make him feel guilty for the denial or insecure about his love. Perhaps, like Peter Porter, Jesus was giving Simon Peter the opportunity to offer him exactly what he wants – the words “I love you.” If Jesus was fully human, then, like the rest of humanity, it wouldn’t be odd that he would want to hear these treasured words.

 No matter how much I know that my parents, sisters, friends and boyfriend care for me, I need to hear them say it. I have learned that when I say, “I love you” to them and when I say it to God, I am even more motivated to back it up with my life. Thus, perhaps Jesus was subtly teaching Simon Peter about this vital movement in which love flows naturally between words and actions. After each one of Peter’s affirmative responses, Jesus encourages an active response by telling Peter to take care of his sheep. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Tell me you love me Peter. And now show me just how much.”

Last night, I was scheduled as the late night assistant for the first time. After finishing my routines, I sat at the dining table to complete our house’s daily journal. Peter was the only core member still awake, and he was sitting down low in the yellow sofa in the corner of the dining room, peering at me through his crossed fingers. After a while, Dario (one of the other summer assistants) came in and announced to Peter that it was time to go to bed. Peter didn’t want to, and I could be totally wrong, but I’d like to think that it was because he was enjoying my silent presence just as much as I was enjoying his. Dario repeated the announcement, but Peter didn’t move. Instead, he asked (for probably the 40th time that day), “I gonna go to church tomorrow, right?”

 “Yes Peter, you’re going to go to church tomorrow,” I assured him, with my eyes still fixed on the task at hand.

 After a pause he asked his next question, “No work tomorrow, right?” Dario affirmed for him, “No work tomorrow Peter.” Another pause. This one was a bit longer.

Then Peter turned his head toward me and he asked a question that he had never asked me before. Pushing out his timid voice through tightly clenched teeth (his normal manner of speech), he asked hesitantly, “You gonna be here tomorrow?” My heart soared. But the only outward sign was my happy grin. I turned to face him, and I replied, “Yes, Peter, I will be here tomorrow.” And you better believe that I was.

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