After Jesus had passed through the dark door,
his friends returned to what they knew best,
Galilee and the sea.
One evening Peter said,
“I am going out to weep.”
But they thought he said,
“I am going out to fish.”
So they went with him
and they wept and fished the night away,
catching nothing but their tears.
With the dawn came a fire on the shore
and the smell of fish across the water.
Through the mist a man was crumbled over coals.
He rose
like an arrow from the bow of the earth,
like an open hand in a time of war,
like the smoke of an undying sacrifice ...
and turned.
“Come and eat your meal.”
No one, John says, presumed to inquire,
“Who are you?”
They knew who it was.
(Taken from Stories of Faith © 1980, John Shea, The Thomas More Press)
John 21:15-17 (NRSV)
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”
We looked last week at the longer term effects of the resurrection on Jesus’ followers. Today we’re hearing one of the more immediate reactions. There are several “sighting” stories in the various gospels – today’s reading is the fourth – and last – of them recounted in John’s gospel – and my favorite.
According to John, Jesus has been seen three times already – but he keeps disappearing again – he won’t stay put! And, apparently, the disciples still have no idea what they are supposed to be doing in this new topsy-turvy world in which they find themselves. They’ve bounced from despair to joy and back again so often they don’t know up from down any more – so they revert back to the one thing they know – they go out fishing. They fished before they knew Jesus and they can still go fishing. These are simple men – they were pretty good at following when Jesus led them – but he’s not around to lead them now and they are pretty well lost. At least they’re no longer cowering behind locked doors – maybe they’re too confused to even be able to bother with being afraid anymore.
They’ve been out fishing all night – but – as often happens with fishing – they have caught nothing. As they head in toward shore they see a stranger on the beach, who calls out to them to throw out their nets one more time “over there.” Having nothing better to do with their time they do as he suggests and this time they pull in so many fish they are in danger of swamping their boat.
They pull in to shore again – fully laden -- and now they really look at the stranger and they recognize Jesus – calmly tending his fire and calling them to come join him at breakfast. Just when they have given up on him again, there he is – right there with them in their ordinary, workaday, fishing world – perfectly at home – looking like he has been there forever – cooking them breakfast -- serving them.
And this, I believe, is the point of this first part of John’s story here: Jesus has been there forever, and he will be there forever – right there with them – wherever they are. He may appear to come and go but in reality he is always here. Right here with them, right here with us – wherever we are. In our ordinary lives – whether we can see him or not – with us -- always and forever – ready with whatever it is we need at that moment. Not sitting on some heavenly throne, way out there, not somewhere else so we have to beg him to come be with us – but always and forever, here – wherever here is right now. That sounds like very good news.
[read 2nd reading]
With this second half of our reading from John, Jesus makes it clear that he has more on his mind than just reinforcing his presence among us. With this 2nd part he has a question and a demand. A question asked three times, and a demand made three times. In Jewish numerology, three was, like seven, a number denoting completeness, encompassing beginning, middle, and ending; yesterday, today, and tomorrow – or, in other words, eternity. Three is a wholeness. So anything said three times in the Bible demands our attention. “Peter, do you love me?” then “feed my sheep.”
There is one more really important point about this thrice-asked question: back in the 18th chapter of John’s gospel, after Jesus’ arrest, Peter, pointed out to the crowd as a follower of Jesus, denied him – denied him three times – three times, to his own shame and despair. And now, the risen Jesus, knowing that shame that Peter carries for those denials, asks him three times: Do you love me? He gives Peter three times to reply: Lord, you know I do. Three affirmations to wipe out three betrayals. And three times he makes it clear that in spite of past betrayals he forgives Peter and trusts him to carry out his work: Feed my sheep.
It really could not be any clearer. If one is going to make claims to love Jesus, one action and one alone is required. Like its fellow commandment – that we love one another – this one encompasses all that Jesus wants us to know – all the commandments are contained here in three words: Feed my sheep. Care for them, take care of their needs – ALL their needs. Feed their bodies and their minds and their spirits. Give them food, yes, food – but also give them hope and opportunity and kindness and forgiveness and trust and love. Lead them safely home.
And since, while we are called to do these things we remain sheep ourselves, we need to feed ourselves with all these things, too. Give ourselves and each other some kindness and hope and forgiveness. Feed all our starving souls.
We’re called to feed Jesus’ sheep on the knowledge of Jesus and the divine one he called Father. Give them understanding that we are – each of us – all of creation – created for more than work and suffering. We are made to care and to lift up – to bind up wounds and heal broken hearts.
Feed my sheep. Tend my lambs. Love one another. To say we love Jesus and not do these things would be simply ludicrous. If we look at Jesus – if we experience Jesus in our own lives, and love what we see, then we can only seek to be like him – any other response is unthinkable. If we truly love Jesus then we have to do his will – and if his will is to serve our creator-God - then that must be our will, as well.
“If you really love me you’ll feed my sheep.” We do, and we will, Lord, with your help, with your grace. Continue to show us your way. Amen.