You may have caught on by now that I have a bit of a quirky sense of humor. My affinity for awkward things has been a hit-or-miss trait over the years. Sometimes it’s great, for example the cardboard box turned stable scene of Advent two years ago I thought was a glorious success. Other times, not so much. The summer before my freshman year of college I bought a set of glow-in-the-dark space sheets because I thought they were hilarious, not taking into account the sort of preconceptions that might be formed by an eighteen-year-old meeting their new roommate for the first time, and discovering said roommate had glow-in-the-dark space sheets. My freshman year roommate and I did end up becoming friends, though she did confess to me later that when she came in and saw my space sheets her first thought was, “this is going to be a long year.”
Good or bad, I think my appreciation for the quirky is why I love Peter so much as a biblical character. Peter is recklessly enthusiastic, he called Jesus Messiah, he pulled him aside and rebuked him, he declared his allegiance to Jesus even to death. When Jesus wanted to wash his feet, Peter first refused completely, and then begged to have not just his feet washed but his hands and his head. Peter is all in, one-hundred percent, whatever it is. I described Peter a few weeks ago of having the attention span of a four-year-old squirrel, and I think it is an even more apt description of this zealous disciple in today’s Gospel reading.
The reading starts out some unknown amount of time after the earlier resurrection appearances when the disciples are notably away from Jerusalem. The vagueness in time and the change of location are a gentle opening up of the resurrection appearances. No longer do we see Jesus bound to a specific place and time, but now wherever the disciples gather there is the possibility that Jesus might show up.
But the disciples did not know this yet. So, standing on the Sea of Tiberius, Peter announced to the others, “I’m going fishing.” “We’ll go with you,” they replied. After all they’ve seen, after all they’ve experienced, why are they going fishing? They were just sent by the resurrected Christ out into the world; didn’t they have something better to do? Theologians are divided on the question. Some think the fishing trip is a show of the disciples abandoning Jesus and returning to their old way of life. Others think they were fulfilling Jesus’ command to be sent. I go with a third option, I think they didn’t know quite what to do. I think they’d heard Jesus’ words to them, they’d received the Holy Spirit, but they weren’t really sure what do to with it, so they decided to try something familiar. Last time they’d been fishing, Jesus had shown up and said “follow me,” and that had turned out pretty well so, might as well try it again.
But at first, it didn’t turn out very well. Scripture tells us the disciples fished all night and caught nothing. Just after daybreak things started to get weird. Jesus showed up on the beach but the disciples didn’t know it was Jesus. Jesus called to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you.” Now, think about this for a minute. Remember, the disciples had been out there all night, and nothing. How might you feel after a night of frustrating manual labor to have a total stranger show up, call you a child, and comment on your inability to do the thing you’ve done for your entire professional life? Other translations have different ways of phrasing Jesus’ words, but the way the NRSV puts it always feels a little bit snarky to me. Then Jesus told them, “cast your net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” Yes, because that’s totally how fish work.
Except, that day, they did. Suddenly their nets were so full of fish that they couldn’t even bring them in. The disciple whom Jesus loved said, “It is the Lord!” And then Peter displayed what biblical scholar Gail O’Day called his “buffoonish enthusiasm.” Peter was fishing naked, which itself would have been totally normal. What would not have been normal would be to get dressed in order to jump into the sea. Peter was wrestling with two competing desires, his desire to get to Jesus as fast as possible and his desire to greet Jesus with proper respect, that is, clothed. As is so often the case when two competing desires get tangled up in our heads, I’m not sure how successful Peter was at either of them. Seems like some of the respectability of being clothed is lost when said clothes are soaking wet. And he only reached Jesus moments before the others, as we are told the boat really wasn’t very far from shore. But that’s Peter; he’s a jump first, think later, sort of a guy. Once also has to wonder if the events of the crucifixion narrative were still weighing on his mind. If he still remembered that night in the courtyard of the high priest, when he’d stood around a charcoal fire and denied Jesus three times, just as Jesus had predicted he would.
Certainly the writer of John’s Gospel wanted us to remember that night, as the first thing the disciples found when they got to the shore was a charcoal fire. And though there was fish and bread, and the story portrays a comfortable breakfast scene, I wonder what Peter was like during the meal. Was he twitchy and eager, always jumping up to get something, offer more, serve someone, or was he able to relax into the familiarity of a meal shared with friends?
I think Peter fidgeted through the entire meal, because after it was over, Jesus asked Peter a question. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Peter answered, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” And again, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Again, same answer, “Yes Lord; you know that I love you.” And a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Scripture tells us Peter was hurt that Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love me,” and responded again, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” We might wonder why Jesus would ask the question so many times. Especially if he knew, which he must have, that it would hurt Peter’s feelings. Wouldn’t it be more, I don’t know, Christ-like, of Jesus to forgive and forget? But I don’t think what’s happening was Jesus making Peter pass some sort of test of allegiance again after his failing. I think Jesus knew Peter well enough to know that Peter couldn’t forget. I think Jesus felt how much grief and shame was weighing on Peter’s mind, so Jesus gave Peter an opportunity to repent, to ask forgiveness, to say he was sorry, so that Peter could know that he was truly forgiven. I think this whole scene, Jesus calling him by his birth name, instead of the name Jesus had given him, the thrice-repeated question, the repeated command to follow, all of this was done by Jesus for Peter’s own sake, so that Peter could truly internalize the knowledge that cannot come through words but can only be grasped through feeling, that the past was truly the past, that his sins had truly been forgiven, and in Jesus he was free to start anew.
Following each affirmative response by Peter, Jesus responded “Feed my sheep.” Jesus, ever the teacher, carefully replaced Peter’s shame with purpose. Where Peter once felt aimless, lost and adrift with a task of following that he’d already failed to do once, with Jesus right in front of him, now Jesus spelt out for Peter exactly how to live out his pronouncement of love. And notice it’s not a hard task Jesus set in front of him. Jesus didn’t tell Peter to evangelize the entire world or topple the empire or bring about world peace, he simply told Peter, “Feed my sheep.” It can be so easy to become paralyzed, when the task ahead of us so large, the grace we have received so expansive, the model we are following so holy, that we can end up aimlessly back where we started. It’s clique, I know, but what Jesus showed Peter here is that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If Peter wants to truly follow in the footsteps of Jesus, all he has to do is feed Jesus’ sheep.
After this comforting teaching, the passage seems to take a darker turn. When Jesus finished questioning Peter, he said, “When you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else will fasten your belt and take you where you do not wish to go.” And in saying this, he predicted Peter’s own persecution and eventual death by martyrdom. Now at first this can seem like a pretty dour ending. Follow me to suffering and death is not exactly the kind of rousing words that get the crowds marching. But here’s the thing. There’s this temptation to think that what happens to us is a result of our faith. That following Jesus leads to rewards, and not following him leads to punishment. And that is just simply not true. Matthew five, forty-four, “for God makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Sometimes, no matter how good you are, bad stuff just happens. And sometimes, like in Peter’s case, persecution is actually proof of your faithfulness. Love, grace, forgiveness, resurrection, these are radical actions, and in a world that is comfortable with stasis, these sorts of actions might cause you pain. So Jesus’ last words to Peter are to assure him that when he faces suffering, when he faces persecution, when he’s tired and his feet hurt and it feels like the world has turned against him, it does not mean that Jesus has. Jesus assured Peter that wherever Peter went, and whatever he experienced, he was forgiven, loved and sent by Jesus. Jesus, who loved Peter even to death, now journeyed with Peter throughout the rest of his life. There was nothing Peter had done, nothing Peter could ever do that would separate Peter from that love. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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