Easter 3: Walking With Simon

Scripture can be found here

Christ is risen, and we keep running into him!

 

We have walked together the eight days that began with the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. We have encountered the empty tomb, and we have heard the story of the women dismissed and mistrusted. We have met Jesus appearing suddenly to his friends through a locked door. We have heard from a disciple who needed to touch Jesus’ wounds to believe, and then we heard him declare, “My Lord and my God!”

 

But today’s story is different. Now the timeline is fuzzy: we know this is some time later, but we don’t know how much later. And the story has changed locations. We were in Jerusalem, but now we’re back Galilee, where everything began. Simon Peter announces to his friends, “I’m going fishing,” and his friends respond, “We’ll come along!”

 

I asked the folks in the Bible Study this week: Why do you think they went fishing? What was going on? We talked about the chaos of it all, the confusion, mingled with the joy. The fact that everyone had experienced the shock of Jesus’ crucifixion and then the shock of his resurrection, with no real time to process either shock—not to mention the grief.

 

Fishing is a great thing to do when you’re grieving, and you’re not sure you want to talk about it, but you also don’t want to be alone. As one of our members said, when life gets chaotic, hurtful, or confusing, sometimes you have to say to yourself, “I’m gonna go do something I understand.” Something like, gardening, or cleaning. Or fishing.

 

As it turns out, it wasn’t a good night of fishing. After daybreak, we see Jesus, standing on the beach, but Simon Peter and the others, still out on the water, don’t recognize him. He calls out to them, “No fish?” And, the answer is “No.” So Jesus makes a suggestion, and they follow it, and… a miracle of abundance. Fish. So many fish. So many big fish!

 

And then, someone recognizes him. Understands. And they cry out, “It is the Lord!” And Simon Peter puts on his robe, jumps into the water, and makes for shore, at the same time as those in the boats are starting to row, dragging in this enormous catch. Chaos, but joyful chaos. It is the Lord.

 

It turns out there is a charcoal fire there on the beach, and Jesus is already cooking up some bread and fish, but the disciples add some of that big catch to the breakfast feast. They’re hungry after that long, hard night.

 

You know, the first miracle of the Gospel According to John was a miracle of abundance. It took place in Galilee. Jesus intervened at a wedding that had run dry, leaving a confused steward who suddenly had enough wine for six weddings. And now, the last miracle of the gospel, is also a miracle of abundance that takes place in Galilee, a catch of fish that would feed ten times the guest list for this little breakfast, plus bread, plenty of bread. Bread, and the fruit of the vine (not to mention the fish)…

 

It’s almost as if the entire gospel takes place in the middle of an ongoing celebration of the Lord’s Supper. As if all the stories contained in this gospel are bookended,  held together, by exactly what we’re doing today: sharing communion.

 

It’s almost as if what Jesus is about, is the love of God poured out on us. It’s almost as if the love of God is about abundance.

 

After breakfast a conversation breaks out between Jesus and Simon Peter. It’s an awkward one. Someone reminded me this week that Simon’s reputation is in shambles.[i] After promising Jesus that he would follow him to the death, that he would be faithful to the end, he denied even knowing Jesus on that awful night of betrayal and trial. Three times, he denied him.

 

So Jesus asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He’s asking Simon Peter to compare how much he loves Jesus to how much the others love Jesus. Having bragged before the crucifixion that he loved Jesus more than anyone else, Simon knows better now. He doesn’t answer that part of the question. But his answer is simple. Heartfelt. “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” To which Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs.”

 

The thing about Jesus is: he wants to forgive Simon. He wants him to have another chance. Jesus isn’t asking him to follow to the death… not yet, anyway. He’s just asking about love.

 

On that terrible night, something else happened. Jesus gave a new commandment, one that was all about love. Love one another, as I have loved you.

 

And here Jesus seems to be reiterating that new commandment, and tying it to another one: tend my sheep.

 

Anyway, Simon does love him.

 

So Jesus asks a second time, and gets the same answer, and issues the same commandment.

 

And then he asks a third time.

 

Simon Peter puts it all on the table. If he didn’t want to talk before, He’s ready now. You might even say, he’s willing to be uncharacteristically vulnerable.

 

He says, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” And for the third time, Jesus tells him, Feed my sheep. Care for my people. As the old song goes, Bring each other home.

 

If I were making a movie of this scene, this is the point when something would change, something would happen to the lighting. Instead of bright morning sun on the beach, the light would have a blue cast to it, like one of those Instagram filters. And the camera would zoom in on Simon Peter and Jesus, and the companionable conversation of the disciples would fade away to be replaced with a strange, spare soundtrack… maybe a single, mournful flute.

 

And then Jesus would say this:

 

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.

 

Follow me.

 

Jesus isn’t asking, because he doesn’t need to. Of course Simon Peter will follow him. No more denials. No more reputation in shambles. He has his commission. He is ready for leadership.

 

He will feed and nurture and protect the people Jesus has just entrusted into his care, the very first, earliest congregations of this brand new thing they will call the church. And eventually, he will stretch out his arms on the cross for the sake of the Good News, and for the sake of loving Jesus, and loving those people. He will do it all, because Jesus is risen, Christ is risen indeed, and now Peter will pay forward the love and nurture that has been his, on this wild ride that has been following Jesus from the beginning.

 

Jesus gives him, and all the disciples, even the ones that exist here in the year of our Lord 2022, this reassurance. Now, forever, it is always Easter.

 

Christ is risen, and we will keep running into him.

 

He will show up when life gets hurtful, and chaotic, and confusing.

 

He will show up when we are doing those things we understand, like gardening, or cleaning, or balancing our checkbooks. Maybe even fishing.

 

He will show up, and sometimes we won’t recognize him.

 

But he will show up with bread for our journey, and the cup of salvation.

 

He will show up, and he will keep reminding us, to love one another, just as he has loved us. He will keep reminding us to care for each other, to bring each other home.

 

Thanks be to God. Amen.


[i] René Such Shreiner, “Commentary on John 21:1-19, Third Sunday of Easter: Profound risk-taking benevolence,” Working Preacher May 1, 2022, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-211-19-5.