Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter – April 10th, 2016

Text: John 21:1-19 (RSV)

Jesus Appears to Seven Disciples

21 After this Jesus revealed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tibe′ri-as; and he revealed himself in this way. Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathan′a-el of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zeb′edee, and two others of his disciples were together. 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 as day was breaking, Jesus stood on the beach; yet the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, have you any fish?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net on 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, for the quantity of 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 his clothes, for he was stripped for work, and sprang 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, but about a hundred yards[a] off.

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish lying on it, and bread. 10 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11 So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred and fifty-three of them; and although there were so many, the net was not torn. 12 Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and so with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus was revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

 Jesus and Peter

15 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.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 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.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved 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. 18 Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go.” 19 (This he said to show by what death he was to glorify God.) And after this he said to him, “Follow me.”

In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.

 Over the last three weeks, we have seen the disciples fail, time and again, to first stand with Jesus in his earthly hour of need; second, to confess that they are indeed his followers; third, to believe what he has been telling them about himself from Day 1 – that is, the he is the Messiah and that he will suffer death and will rise again three days later; and fourth, to even recognize him when he appears to them after the Resurrection.

And we have to ask: Why does John seem to keep harping on this? Is it because the disciples are just so clueless? And if so, what lessons can we draw from it all?

And John isn’t finished yet – we have today’s lesson. It comes from the tail end of John’s Gospel – Chapter 21 has been called a sort of “epilogue” to the Gospel, a way John chose to hammer home the point that Jesus is, beyond a shadow of a doubt,  the promised Messiah, who rose from the dead and lives now and forever. He uses the confusion and doubt of the disciples, I think, as a sort of mirror that he holds up to reflect the notions of the world and shows them to be utterly false.

That’s part of it, anyway. Another theme is what the disciples did right after their experiences in the upper room. What we just heard is almost an anticlimax: Simon Peter and six of the other disciples have gone home, back to the Sea of Galilee, back to where it all began. And they’re doing what they’d done all their lives until Jesus came along – fishing. One commentator, Professor Frank Crouch, of the Moravian Seminary in Pennsylvania, writes that what Peter and the six other disciples did follows a typical human pattern – an intense spiritual experience, like the one they just had, soon fades, and people go back to their familiar lives. That might be at least a partial explanation for today’s story.

Anyway, they’re back home. They throw the net into the water on one side of the boat, and haul it in. Then they throw it over the other side and haul it in…over and over, like they’ve been doing most of their lives, and their fathers before them, and their fathers before them. It’s all so … normal.

At least it is on the outside. But I can’t help but think that each of those men had a hurricane going on inside. It’s been only two weeks since those momentous days in Jerusalem, and only one week or so since Jesus appeared to them in that upper room. So the memories are fresh. Painfully fresh.

And so is the guilt. As they sit there that night, in that creaking boat, they’re left to their own thoughts – and they can’t escape the fact that, when it counted most, they ran. As fast as they could, and as far as they could. And then they hid in that upper room.

If anything, having Jesus then forgive them might have made them feel even guiltier! They knew they didn’t deserve his forgiveness, and they were certain that they didn’t deserve the honor of the mission he was giving them … well, that and their fear (quite justified) that they were going to meet with the same fate that he had.

But of all of them, I think Simon Peter had the biggest burden. Even though he wasn’t the unnamed “disciples whom Jesus loved” (whom history has decided was the Evangelist John himself), he had still been Jesus’ best friend, the go-to guy, the head of the pack. The leader. The one the others looked to for direction and whom Jesus entrusted with his confidences. The one Jesus had called ‘the Rock.”

But that rock had crumbled. He had failed Jesus. Failed him miserably. Failed him totally.

So when he says, “I’m going fishing,” he’s not saying it just because he needs to pass the time until Jesus gives them further orders, he’s doing it because he figures there’s nothing left for him in God’s plan. Yes, Jesus gave him the Holy Spirit, right along with the others, gave him the new mission with the others, but he figures his job is going to be nothing like what the others will do. Peter is a man full of remorse and full of regret.

I’m reminded of the quote from John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem “Maud”:

“For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: “It might have been!”[1]

Every one of us has regrets, some of them deep (– well, everyone except maybe Frank Sinatra, whose regrets were “too few to mention” because he did it his way!). We all have had times in our lives when we might have done something differently or better; and we wish that we could turn back the clock and do it right this time. But the past is the past, and it can’t be changed (“Star Trek” notwithstanding!).

I’m pretty sure this was not the reason why John wrote what he did, but his words over the last few weeks have had for us the unintended benefit of knowing that even the disciples themselves weren’t always up to snuff. They didn’t get it, even when Jesus told them, showed them, and then reappeared to them.

This is good for us to keep in mind, because lately the airwaves and newsprint have been full of talk about what makes a “good Christian,” and who gets to decide. More often than not, the definition of a “good Christian” describes exactly the person who’s talking about it – a “good Christian” is a person just like me. All others need not apply.

Nor is this really anything new. Much of what the Apostle Paul wrote had to do with settling squabbles that had broken out among the members of churches he’d started in his travels – the church at Corinth leaps immediately to mind. And what is Paul’s solution? “So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” (RSV)

So here’s my thumbnail definition of what makes a good Christian: “A good Christian is one who shows love.”

Which brings us back to Peter and those other forlorn disciples out there in that boat on the Sea of Galilee. The night has passed, and daylight is breaking. Not one fish have they caught.

Then they hear a voice from the beach. They look through the morning fog, and vaguely see a figure standing there. “Throw your nets over the other side,” he shouts. They do, and haul in a huge catch. The disciple whom Jesus loved recognizes the figure on the beach as Jesus, and Peter, without even thinking, dives overboard and heads to shore.

When he gets there, he sees that Jesus has made a charcoal fire, and when the others arrive with the fish, they have breakfast.

And then John gets to his point. Jesus has a one-on-one with Peter. He asks Peter three times “Do you love me?” and each time, Peter answers yes with increasing vehemence, and the third time, Peter says basically “You know I love you, because you know everything!” And Jesus simply says, “follow me.” Peter is forgiven; the past is erased.

These three answers of “yes” replace the three times he denied Jesus on that fateful night of betrayal. “No” is replaced by “yes” just as death has been replaced by life.

So, for us, the takeaway for today might be: Do not despair. Do not let your failings destroy you. Remember that, for every “no” you encounter, God is there with a resounding “YES!”

Remember the old line, “Christians are not perfect, just forgiven.” It was, I think, that realization that finally helped Peter and the disciples to turn the corner from fear to faith.

Let it also encourage and empower us, too, to go forth and love others as Christ loved – and loves – us.

In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maud_Muller