What is St. Peter doing at the pearly gates?

The idea of St. Peter at the pearly gates belongs more to popular imagination than to poetic theology. It does catch a faint echo of Scripture, but it misses the operatic grandeur.

The notion of “pearly gates” is from Revelation 21:21. Each of the twelve gates of the New Jerusalem is described as being made from a gigantic pearl. There is something more profound here than just a statement about construction. This can call to mind the parable of the pearl of great price: To enter the kingdom, you must be willing to sell all that you have. Pearls begin as irritants or injuries which an oyster coats with nacre, layer by layer, until it produces a lustrous jewel. From pain comes something precious. In the life of faith, suffering is transformed into salvation.

The image of St. Peter standing at the gates is from our Gospel today (Matthew 16:13-20), when Jesus gives him the keys to the kingdom of heaven. To picture St. Peter holding a giant set of keys is too limited an appreciation of the text. Just as we don’t expect Jesus to be covered in white wool and bleating because he is called the Lamb of God, we shouldn’t read this passage too literally. Keys symbolize authority. In the ancient world, a steward given the keys to the master’s house was expected to act on his lord’s behalf.

If St. Peter were at the pearly gates, what would he be doing there?

In the language of the youth today, to “gatekeep” is to hide the details of a cool find and prevent others from enjoying it. Some influencers refuse to drop the location of a quiet coffee shop or a pristine beach to preserve the aesthetic and ensure it stays exclusive. If St. Peter were at the pearly gates, would he be gatekeeping? Would he be keeping people out?

We can answer this question by looking at what St. Peter did in the Bible, especially after the Resurrection, after Jesus had commanded him, “Feed my sheep” and “Follow me.” In Acts 2, St. Peter preached in Jerusalem to the Israelites who had rejected Jesus. On that Pentecost Day, St. Peter welcomed three thousand Jews into the fold. Moving past old prejudices in Acts 8, St. Peter crossed a caustic cultural divide to pray over and lay hands on the Samaritans. The bitter rivals of the Jews then received the Holy Spirit. Shattering remaining boundaries in Acts 10, St. Peter went even further by bringing the Gospel to a Roman centurion’s household. The sheer scandal of grace extended to the pagan occupiers of the land proved that the Holy Spirit was being poured out even upon the Gentiles. In these episodes, St. Peter “unlocked the gates” for an ever-widening and increasingly improbable circle of people, shattering human expectations of who belonged in the Kingdom.

A possible antonym of gatekeep is “sharekeep.” And that is exactly what St. Peter was doing. He was acting the way he knew the Lord would. This follows what Jesus did in last week’s Gospel: He unlocked the gates of mercy to the Canaanite woman who had great faith. The keys of St. Peter are for opening, not closing.

If St. Peter were at the pearly gates, he would be the most fitting choice to stand there. Why? Two weeks ago, Jesus reached out to Peter saying, “O you of little faith….” A student once asked me why she should confess to a priest who is also a sinner. I told her that a priest who has likely wrestled with the very same sins she has is the best person to hear her confession. He can truly understand and empathize with her. In the same vein, we should be overjoyed to arrive at the pearly gates and find St. Peter waiting for us. If we say we are unworthy because of our little faith, he would probably smile and bring out another symbol he is often depicted carrying: the rooster that crowed after he denied Jesus three times.

In Acts 3, we see St. Peter at the gate of the Jerusalem Temple called “the Beautiful Gate.” A man crippled from birth was lying there. St. Peter told him, “I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, rise and walk.” What did Peter have? He had Jesus, and he had his own flickering faith. But this fragile faith was able to help the crippled man leap up and enter the temple, jumping and praising God. I imagine that if St. Peter were at the pearly gates, he would help those of us of little faith burst into the Kingdom, jumping and praising God.

Your prayer assignment this week:

Last week, your homework was to ask yourself this question: “What have I learned recently?”

This week, we will sharpen that query: “What have I learned about God recently?” I think Jesus was challenging his disciples in a similar way when he asked them in our Gospel today, “Who do you say that I am?” In a sense, he was asking, “What have you learned about me recently?” Again, the word “recently” is crucial. Many of us treasure our old conversion stories, turning points in our lives when the Lord burst into our lives so vividly and we embraced him. It is good to revisit these touchstones. But if our most recent discovery about God happened five or ten years ago, our relationship may have become a monument instead of a living encounter.

Another question to ask ourselves is: “Does what I have learned about God help me open gates or close them?” Does my understanding of God lead me to invite others into the Kingdom, or keep them out? Am I a gatekeeper or a sharekeeper?

A song to accompany your reflection this week is Mike Francis’ “Let Me In”.

While the song is originally an earthly plea between all-too-human lovers, at its core, it beautifully echoes the heavenly movement of divine grace. Of course, a small disclaimer is needed: Our relationships with each other are messy, and unlike the main persona in the song, God would never “hurt you so.” But focus your attention on the opening lines:

Let me in with the flowers
Don’t bring me down, I’m on the ground.

As you strive to enter the Kingdom, God humbles himself. He steps onto your ground, stands right where you are, and gently asks if you will let him into your life. When you open the door (especially in “your darkest hour”), he transforms your barren ground into a garden in full bloom. Listen closely, and you can hear him sing of his endless devotion:

...till the mornin' sun grows cold and rivers flow
I promise you my heart
And we can make love grow…

Much of our musing today began as a simple mental exercise: “If St. Peter were at the pearly gates, what would he be doing there?” But this holy imagining has also brought us to face a profound reality. Our God is a God who eagerly opens the gates to let us in. And he is a God who softly knocks, waiting for us to let him in, too.