Sermon for SMHP, Year C, Easter III, May 5, 2019
John 21:1-19
After these things Jesus
showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed
himself in this way. 2Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the
Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his
disciples.
3Simon 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.
4Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples
did not know that it was Jesus. 5Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They
answered him, “No.” 6He 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. 7That 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. 8But 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. 9When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with
fish on it, and bread. 10Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just
caught.”
11So 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. 12Jesus 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. 13Jesus came and took the bread
and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14This was now the third time
that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
15When 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.” 16A 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.” 17He 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. 18Very 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.” 19(He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would
glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”
Holocaust
Remembrance Day began this past Sunday at sundown. It was a day made even more poignant—though
that hardly seems possible—by the mass shooting at the Chabad of Poway, a
synagogue just outside of San Diego. So
as the world remembered the atrocities which killed two-thirds of the Jews in
Europe, along with thousands of gay men, disabled persons, Roma, and Jehovah’s
Witnesses, the same kind of hate brought down a mother and grandmother, and
injured three others.
They were
all killed for the same thing—for having the audacity to be who they are. They could have hidden. Lori Gilbert Kaye could have chosen to stop
worshipping at her synagogue when it became clear that the wizened grip of
American anti-semitism was strengthening and spreading. When she heard the shouting in
Charlottesville. Or read about the
shooting in a Pittsburgh synagogue.
Instead, she
chose to be a Jew. Faithful to the
command to worship.
In doing so
she joined the millions who have stood proud as children of God, rather than
cowering in fear.
Like so
many of them, she fell victim to someone who also claimed to be faithful to
God’s commands. The Poway shooter
belonged to an “Orthodox Presbyterian” church.
His “manifesto” contained some essentially correct Christian doctrine,
alongside the idea that God would be pleased by his actions.
The claim
of faith does not justify.
Right
doctrine does not sanctify.
We are justified—aligned with God—by God’s own
action at the cross in Jesus Christ.
And we are sanctified—made holy—by the daily
struggle to honor and keep the commands of Jesus, all of which rest upon his
command that we love one another.
Tradition
teaches that after St. Peter became the preeminent Apostle of the emerging
Christian church in Palestine, he went to Rome.
When he heard rumors that Emperor Nero wanted him dead, he quietly left
town. He was traveling east on the Appian
Way when he encountered Jesus. Peter
asked Jesus—in Latin, of course—Quo
Vadis, Domine? “Where are you going,
Lord.”
Jesus
replied that he was going to Rome, to be crucified again. And once again, Peter was forced to face his
fear. He left the Via Appian and returned to the Via
Virtus: the Way of Virtue.
And he was
crucified there in Rome, at the behest of Emperor Nero.
Many
scholars believe that Jesus was referencing Peter’s future crucifixion at the
end of our text for this morning, when he said, “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.”
Certainly
this text is another place in which we see Jesus and Peter engaged in the daily
struggle of sanctification.
As the text
opens, we see Peter trying to get back to some kind of normal. “I’m going fishing,” he announces. “We’ll come with you,” six other disciples
call back.
And they go
out into the lake and catch nothing because that makes a good start for a
miracle story.
At this
point the lesson reads more like a 1950’s grade school primer than a sacred
text. But slowly a post-resurrection
narrative emerges. Jesus shows up. Nobody recognizes him. Even though they saw him way back in Chapter
Twenty. When they do realize that it is
Jesus, Peter—inexplicably naked—puts on clothes, and in true Peter fashion, jumps
in the water.
Sanctification
is a daily struggle, friends. The
struggle is real.
Peter is
such a great model for us of the struggle, isn’t he?
Those who
remember the way John tells the Passion and Resurrection stories might remember
that the last time we saw Peter, he was racing the Beloved Disciple to the
tomb. Both of them went into the tomb
and saw the linen wrappings and no Jesus, but John tells us that only the
Beloved Disciple “saw and believed.” And
then they both went home.
And before
that? What is Peter’s last named act
before the Resurrection?
Denying
Jesus in the courtyard. Three times.
The
struggle is real. Even for someone who
walked daily with Jesus…who was part of his inner circle—privy to his
transfiguration, praised for his confession, “You are the Christ, the son of
the Living God.” Living out the values
of Jesus is hard. Loving everybody is hard. Some of those folks don’t make it easy.
But Jesus
is with us in the struggle. Remember
that the next time you are fishing naked.
Jesus is with you. Put some
clothes on.
Even when
we fall down, even when we deny
Christ, he is with us, brushing us off, standing us up, sending us out to try
to get it right the next time.
He could
have given up on Peter. I mean, Peter
looks pretty hopeless there at the end of this story. You really couldn’t blame Jesus if he decided
to take those keys back and give them to Nathanael. Or Mary Magdalene.
Sit with
that delightful image for a moment, and then come back, because, of course,
that’s not what happened.
What
happened was breakfast. After the
miraculous catch of fish, there was ordinary fish, and bread. And a seemingly ordinary question: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Peter
answered. And Jesus asked again. Answered, and asked again.
Imagine
being Peter. We don’t have to imagine--John
tells us that he felt hurt, being asked a third time whether he loved
Jesus.
That had to
be hard.
Now imagine
being Jesus. Having to ask the disciple
to whom you gave the keys to the
kingdom. The first bishop of your
church! “Hey, so do you love me?”
Imagine
what it is like for him to have to ask that question of each of us. “Hey, do you love me?” Because people who love Jesus also love other
people. Not just by being nice to them,
but by working to make sure that they have food, and clothes.
Just saying
you believe in Jesus doesn’t convey that you love Jesus. You follow Jesus into all the hard places he
goes. Out onto the margins and the
streets and the alleyways.
The claim
of faith does not justify.
Right
doctrine does not sanctify.
Loving
Jesus with your hands, and your feet, and your whole body—that sanctifies. That makes you holy. Not forever.
You gotta wake up again tomorrow and do it all over again. Wake up in the morning and ask the question,
“Quo vadis, Domine?”
Where are
you going, Lord.
Or, “Quo vadis nobis, Domine?”
Where are we going, Lord? Where is my opportunity to show love
today? Where can I serve you with my
hands and my feet, and my heart?
Perhaps I
can work for an end to the hate which leaves bullet holes in synagogues and
burned husks where there used to be black churches. Perhaps I can sort food or clothing so that
my neighbors may live. Perhaps I can
offer a kind word to a dejected friend, coworker, stranger. Perhaps I am even being called to die…to old
ways, in order that new ways of love and service might take root.
Quo vadis, Domine? Take me with you. Teach me to love you.
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