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Third Sunday of Easter, 05/05/2019
Sermon on John 21:1-19, by David Zersen
After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
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. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”
A COUPLE OF LOVE STORIES
In the post-Easter season, the celebratory spirit of Easter Sunday tends to dip and preachers sometimes lament the poor attendance that characterizes the Sundays following the High Holiday. The same thing is probably true of the days following many festal occasions. We try to find things to do to occupy our time. We look for ways to enter into the meaning of an uplifting experience. Often we seem not to succeed. The truth, however, may be that in the commonplaces of our reflection there is more depth and value than we at first imagine. In today’s Gospel lesson we can find a semblance of this truth. The resurrection is past, with all of its terrifying and overwhelming wonder. The disciples are left to ponder the meaning of it all and the two stories told about them (and us) in this lesson are both challenging and lovely.
Caring for one another
The first story tells that seven of the original Twelve are sitting around wondering what to do—how to make sense of the fact that their regular peripatetics, their journeys with their teacher, are over. What now? After all, most of them were fishermen to start, so why not go fishing? One proposes it. The others come along. It’s more than killing time, however. It’s a matter of trying to rediscover meaning in the emptiness of the moment.
How often have you and I done something similar? A friendship is over. A job is finished. A loved one has died. What do we do now? We sometimes try many things. We go to a restaurant where once we ate with a now departed spouse. We attend a Billy Joel concert because this is
something we did on a first date. Sometimes we realize that while it is worth re-experiencing some of our old haunts, the reality is that we have to move forward and chart a new course.
The remarkable thing in today’s lesson, however, is that in doing what they were used to doing with their teacher-- they rediscover him. As he has done before, he acts as host, lighting up the fire, frying some fish, and feeding them. And in that gesture of caring, they come to appreciate the love of a friend that will not let them go.
Some years ago, my wife led a group on a trip to Ethiopia. We had dinner in the home of man in the Ethiopian government whose daughter was a student at the university where we worked. As the meal began, the host’s wife began to feed him. He probably noticed as we sat at table together that this struck all of us as a peculiar gesture, so he chose to explain it. In Ethiopia, a wife feeds her husband to show that she loves him.
This gesture is repeated in a number of African and Middle-Eastern cultures, not only between husband and wife, but also between friends. At the Last Supper Jesus was following this tradition just as he was in the lovely story of the breaking of bread at Emmaus. Here again, in a humble and loving way, Jesus takes bread and fish and feeds the seven disciples who were too frightened to ask what was going on?
They knew Jesus had died, there were stories about the empty tomb, and now, overwhelmed by his absence, they began to experience him in the way that they knew him best—as the host at their meals, as the one who in the midst of their infighting and uncertainty about him would always love them to the end. How did they account for that?
Accepting us as we are
The second story is a similarly humble retelling of the relationship between Peter and Jesus—and, for that matter, between all followers such as we--and Jesus. After the breakfast of bread and fish, we can picture Jesus sitting quietly by the charcoal fire and watching Peter. We have to remember that Peter was the one whom Jesus said would deny him three times. We even got a chance to see it happen. Around a similar charcoal fire in the courtyard of the High Priest, Peter was accused of being a follower of Jesus—and three times he denied it.
Now let me strike up the music for a moment and take you to a scene in “Fiddler on the Roof,” one of my favorite scenes. Tevye has just told his wife, Golde, that he gave permission to their daughter, Hodel, to marry, Perchik. “What,” shouts Golde, “he has nothing!” “I know,” Tevye says, “but it’s a new world. Love. Hodel likes him—she loves him.” And then, strike up the music,
Tevye says, “Golde, do you love me?” Golde doesn’t get it. She talks about all the things that she does for Tevye, but he keeps pressing her: “Golde, do you love me.” Finally, she says, “I suppose so.” And Tevey responds, “Then I suppose I do to.” We love this scene because behind the cuteness and charm, there is great depth for all of us who often don’t say how much we love one another.
Now to our Gospel lesson! Jesus is doing this same thing, without music, without Jerry Bock, the Fiddler on the Roof composer. And you have to know a little Greek to catch it. Most of us have heard about the difference between the Greek words agapeand philia. C.S. Lewis wrote a popular book, The Four Lovesthat explain them.Agape is a love with no strings attached, the profound love of God for us, and philiais the love between friends, brotherly love, which sometimes has conditions. As John tells the story, Jesus, sitting at the charcoal fire, remembering Peter’s three-time denial, asks “Peter, do you love me?” (and he uses the word agape). In other words “Do you love me unconditionally?” This may be too theological, too profound for Peter and he responds using the word philiafor love, as if to say, “Sure, I like you.” Jesus decides to try again, using agapeand Peter responds again, usingphilia. Finally as with the encounter at the first charcoal fire, the question is put for a third time, but this time the Questioner stoops to Peter’s own comfort zone: “Are we friends, Peter?” He asks. And Peter, overcome at this testing, and perhaps remembering his own three-fold denial, says “Of course we are. You know that we are!”
There’s something touching and humbling about this story, if we are allowed to explore the verbiage as it’s given. Jesus lets Peter be Peter and he accepts Peter’s use of language and perhaps his meaning as well. In a more theological and profound sense, in accepting Peter as he is, Jesus forgives him for his failures and denials and moves on. And Jesus gives him new commissions as well, to care for others (the sheep)* in the same humble ways that Jesus is caring for Peter. He who had been rejected and denied, tortured and crucified, welcomes and befriends even those who found it easy to turn their backs on him.
Conclusion
While this reflection began as a very simple commentary on what people do with their time after tragedy or great elation, it turns out that these two segments in our lesson for today are a couple of love stories—both of which are filled with meaning. When nothing seems to be happening in our life, we should look to the one who is expressing simple forms of kindness over a charcoal fire, gentle and caring words or gestures we have no right to expect. And when we have done the despicable with a friend, a colleague, a lover or spouse, we should listen to see if attempts are being made over a charcoal fire (or any other object) to accept us as we are, even though we are not very acceptable. We may very well hear/experience from a Christian brother or sister what we don’t deserve to hear or experience. But whether or not we do, there is one who is calling us to love him—because he has loved us first.
With the disciples who experienced emptiness in their uncertainty, we too might at times think there’s nothing left but to go fishing, or hunting or shopping or traveling or whatever else it is we do when a dead end seems immanent. With them, however, we have also come to know that we are not left to ourselves, to our foibles, or, as the church’s confession put it, to our most grievous sins. We are not because we are Easter Christians who know that we have been loved and accepted just as Peter was.
While this may seem like “low-Sunday” to some who miss the trumpets and the lilies of Easter, we who are present know that Easter continues in our hearts and minds forever. For us…..
Christ is risen. Alleluia.