John 21:1-19
May 3, 2025
When my daughter, Phoebe, was just a
few months old, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She and my dad were coming
to visit their new granddaughter in just a few days, when she called me to tell
me that her treatment would require a mastectomy. But her oncologist agreed
that the surgery could wait to be scheduled until after their visit to us. This
was good news and a tiny thread of a silver lining in the midst of such
unwelcome and unnerving news about her health. Just fyi: my mom’s cancer was
caught very early, she made it through the surgery fine, and we had her in our
lives for almost another 30 years.
But none of us could predict the
future at the time of that call and that traumatic diagnosis, so when I hung up
with my mom, I did what I often do when everything around me seems
out-of-control and unmanageable – I vacuumed. It’s hard to come to terms with
the fact that we control very little in our lives. And I confess that in my
heart of hearts what I want most of all is control. I want to control my
future. I want to control my present. I want to control the context and
circumstances that surround the people I love. Yet when confronted with my
mom’s cancer and, even more so, her mortality, which pushed me to confront my
own, I did the one thing I knew to do – I vacuumed. Fretting and worrying over
mom was not going to get my rugs clean, so it was back to the vacuum for me.
And a funny thing which I found out later was that my mom did the exact same
thing on her end. She hung up the phone with me and started to vacuum. Like
mother, like daughter. I guess some things just don’t change.
But almost two weeks ago, we
remembered and celebrated an event that is supposed to change everything. As it
happens every year, Easter arrives with great flourish, ceremony, celebration,
music, singing, alleluias, joy, crosses filled with flowers, church pews
overflowing with family and friends – and then on Monday the world seems to
move inexorably on. Friends and family continue to be diagnosed with cancer.
People still die tragically and too young. Wars and violence seem to overwhelm
any of the work toward peace. The chains of poverty and oppression remain
unbroken. And there are times during this life inexorable that our attempts to
be faithful, to answer the call to be disciples seem futile at best. And even
though we, all of us believers, declare every year that we are Easter people,
and that we will live every day from now in the light of the Easter promise,
our lives return to “normal” too. We return to our routines and go about our
daily lives with their work and play, joy and sorrow, and nothing really seems
to have changed at all.
From our passage at the end of
John’s gospel, it looks as though even the disciples, the ones who were the
immediate witnesses to these dramatic events – crucifixion, resurrection – have
also returned to life as usual. In these verses before us, John gives an
account of a third post-resurrection appearance by Jesus to the disciples. The
risen Christ appears to them once more. But where are they? And what are they
doing? Seven of the disciples are gathered by the Sea of Tiberius. They are not
there preaching to anyone who might be with them on the beach. They are not
there brainstorming the ways they will take the good news of the gospel to the
crowds. They just seem to be there – maybe waiting, quite possibly feeling
lost, confused, and afraid. We don’t really know what they are doing or why,
but in a somewhat impulsive move Simon Peter decides to go fishing. In my
imagination, Peter is restless and agitated. He can’t just sit there anymore;
he must do something. It must have felt like his whole world was crumbling, and
everything he thought he understood no longer made sense. So, he did the one
thing he knew he could do – fish. I vacuum. Peter fished. Peter announces that
he is going fishing. The others follow his lead. It’s as if they all think,
“Well, Jesus may be resurrected, whatever that means, but that won’t put food
on the table so let’s get back to the boats.”
And back to the boats they go. They
sit in the boat all night but catch nothing. Just after daybreak Jesus stands
on the shore. Although the disciples have already seen him twice before, they
do not recognize him. Jesus speaks to them about their predicament and tells
them to cast their nets to the right side of the boat. They do what he tells
them, and suddenly there’s more fish than they can haul into shore. This is the
moment when the beloved disciple recognizes Jesus. When the disciples drag
their full nets ashore, Jesus is waiting for them with a fire, saying, “Come
and have breakfast.” In a eucharistic moment, Jesus breaks the bread and the
fish and gives it to them.
After this breakfast of fish and
bread, Jesus asks Simon Peter three times if he loves him. And three times
Peter answers, “I love you, Lord.” The third time Peter is hurt because Jesus
continues to question him about Peter’s love for his teacher. So on this third
go round, he answers, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”
Jesus responds as he has twice before, “Feed my sheep.”
I believe that it is widely accepted
that Jesus’ purpose in asking Peter this question of his love for him three
times was to cancel out Peter’s three denials of him before the crucifixion.
Peter denied Jesus three times, and in turn, Jesus gives him three chances to
restate his love. Jesus offers Peter forgiveness and commissions him with a
ministry and mission. Feed my sheep.
I think a lot about Peter in this
moment. I think the guilt and shame he must have been feeling when this story
begins was overwhelming. No pun intended; he must have been swimming in guilt. I
find it interesting that before Jesus meets them on the beach, Peter not only
decides to go fishing, but he also decides to do the work without clothes on.
While this may be strange to us, it probably wasn’t to them. Perhaps it was
hot. I suspect that trying to haul in large nets of fish in a robe, especially
a robe with long sleeves that hindered movement would have been challenging.
But I also think that Peter’s
nakedness reveals his vulnerability and his shame. When he realizes that it is
Jesus on the shoreline calling them in, Peter jumps into the sea to hide
himself. It reminds me of the moment in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve
hide themselves from God because they are naked and feel ashamed. So Peter is
vulnerable, and Peter is ashamed, not just at being caught without clothes, but
because of what he did and what he didn’t do. But Peter is given another
chance. Peter is shown grace. For every time he denied Jesus, he is given
another chance to declare his love, and to accept his call to serve. Feed my
sheep.
Perhaps this is part of the deeper
meaning of this third resurrection appearance. It’s not about proving that
Jesus is actually risen. The disciples have already seen him twice before. It
seems to me that this third appearance was to offer Peter the grace he needed
to do the work that lay ahead. It was to show Peter and the other disciples
that just as death was not the end, resurrection is not an end in itself
either. It is a new beginning. Peter and the others have a new call now. They must
go back to their boats and fish for people. They must share the good news of
the gospel. They must feed Jesus’ sheep. There are still so many people, so
many sheep, who need to be fed, flocks that need to be gathered, lost ones who
need to be found. It may seem that nothing had changed, that life and its sorrows
had gone relentlessly on, but Jesus’ presence with them on that beach tells
them otherwise. Everything has changed. And they are called to be a part of it.
They must go back to their boats. They must try again.
This ministry, their work and
mission and call, will require all their persistence, all their determination.
all their love and fortitude and perseverance. Most of all, it will take
courage.
We know that the disciples find
their courage, because they go on to teach and preach and heal and participate
in the miraculous ways of God empowered and emboldened by the Holy Spirit.
Peter and the others feed Jesus’ sheep and so much more.
But what about us? Was two weeks ago
a dressed up, hopped up version of just another Sunday or has everything
changed? And if it is the latter, then we also must find our courage. It takes
courage just to live these days, especially these days. It takes courage to
follow the gospel. It takes courage to lead and teach and preach and to try and
be the human that Jesus was and to follow the Christ that Jesus is. It takes
courage to live the gospel, because it is counter-intuitive to everything else
in the world around us. And some days its really hard to do. It takes courage
to try, and it takes even more to try again because no amount of vacuuming on
my part will give me the control I so long for. I need to find my courage to
trust God more than I trust myself. I need courage to do the work that I am
called to do, to feed God’s sheep. I need courage, the courage that can only be
found in God, and so do you. In this work we do today, may we find the courage
we need, the boldness we need, the power we need – from God and from one
another – to share the gospel, to speak truth to power, to live into the
promise of Easter, to feed Gods’ sheep.
Let all of God’s children say,
“Alleluia.”
Amen.
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