Denying Peter, Faithful Peter

Acts 9:1-20, Psalm 30,

Revelation 5:11-14, John 21:1-19

Jesus gives Peter the chance to undo his denial with affirmations of love. The Peter who denied knowing Jesus, who fled the crucifixion, and who hid in fear faces the risen Lord and is afforded the opportunity to begin anew. Peter came with joy to meet his Lord, “forgiven, loved and free.” Then Jesus tells him what to do with that love: feed the flock.

There is something very special about having breakfast on the beach, isn’t there? Breakfast on the beach - the sunrise and the morning light, the water and the wind, the charcoal fire and the smoke, the breeze and the sand and the seagulls – connects connect with the natural world and with the primal elements, with mystery and with our sustenance, with bountiful abundance and life.

Today, we have heard a narrative from the Gospel of John with Jesus and some of the disciples having breakfast on the beach. And perhaps like an experience that we might have had, there was something special about that group having breakfast on the beach. This week, as with last, we enter more fully into the resurrection mystery and the work of Easter.

It is sometimes a bit of an incongruous experience for me as the Church enters into its season of Easter. If I’m honest, there is a sense of barrenness or emptiness as the season progresses. It’s not that I am not filled with Paschal joy and peace, I certainly am. It’s not that don’t recognize the great and wonderful power of the victory of our king, I most certainly do. It’s just, well, the realities of our Holy Week in which palms are waved, bread is broken, and feet are washed…during which we hear the stories of teas of blood, thorns pressed deep into Jesus’ scalp, of scourging at the pillar….at which time we recognize crosses raised and a body laid in a newly hewn grave are so visceral and graphic. Easter, by contrast, is about absence - the body no longer in the tomb. We are left, now, to work out what the absence means. The graphic and visceral is tangible. The absence is mystery and we must now work out what it means to have Resurrection set loose in the world and in the church.

The Gospel of John ends with four narratives of Jesus appearing to his disciples: four scenes of Christ revealed alive, four signs of assurance that God in Jesus has conquered death. In the first, we hear how Mary encountered the risen Jesus in the garden right outside the tomb. She had mistaken him for a gardener but then Jesus called to her, “Mary.” God’s light flooding in, Mary recognized her rabbouni, her teacher. Later on that same day, in the evening, Jesus appeared to the disciples who had locked themselves in that upper room in Jerusalem. Only Thomas was missing form that second appearance so Jesus returns a week later, presenting himself before Thomas, who sees with his own eyes and confesses his belief. “Have you believed me because you have seen me?” Jesus says to Thomas. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Those first three appearances takes place in Jerusalem during the turbulent days after Jesus’ execution.

The confusion and terror following Jesus’s passion might have begun to dissipate a little but Jesus’ disciples are still filled with fear. They are not quite sure how to carry on. They are not quite sure of what’s coming next. But life goes on and many ordinary days follow. The fourth and final appearance of Jesus to his disciples thus takes place in Galilee after some time has passed - John doesn’t say how much exactly. The disciples have left Jerusalem, returning to their home in Galilee. They have gone back to the safety of the countryside and away from those terrible forces that confronted Jesus in the city: the chief priests and Pharisees, Herod and Pilate and the Roman soldiers. Jesus’ loyal followers have gone home. But the sense remains that they are still unsure of what to do with themselves, of where to go or who to be now that Jesus is gone.

So Peter declares that he is going fishing. In prior chapters in John’s narrative, Peter has denied Jesus and fled from the scene of his crucifixion. It’s evident that Peter loves Jesus but his fear led him into hiding, distancing himself from Jesus and his teaching. We are left to imagine, perhaps without great difficulty, Peter’s anguish, his disappointment with himself, and his guilt and shame.

So Peter returns to something that he knows. Amid the fear, confusion, and grief, Peter returns to the comfortable life of fishing, to handling the heavy nets, to the feeling of the breeze and the water. He returns to his old life. And his efforts are fruitless. After an entire night of fishing Peter and the others who were with him caught nothing. On top of his grief and shame – on top of Peter failing Jesus, Peter has also now failed at the thing he had done is whole life. There was, apparently, no returning to the old life.

This is what Peter faces as the dawn begins to break. Then, quite suddenly, a man from the shore calls out, suggesting something quite odd, “Throw your nets on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” Surprisingly, the disciples comply – and suddenly the net is full to bursting with fish!

Peter realizes that he has experienced something like this before: On the Lake of Gennesaret, in a place very similar to this one, Jesus had gotten into his boat after a night in which they had caught no fish, and told them to try again. Their nets were filled to bursting. Peter perhaps remembered that hillside, where thousands had gathered, as Jesus broke the bread and distributed the fish until they were all fed. Peter recalled the wedding in Cana, when water was turned into wine of the highest quality.

The beloved disciple was the first to know, though. “It is the Lord!,” he cried. Peter jumped in the water and clambered toward the shore with his heart bursting with excitement. It was Jesus! Jesus invites them, “Come and have breakfast.” Was this was just a normal morning after a night of fishing.

This narrative delivers an wonderful a bookend to the Last Supper. This is the “First Breakfast” and it changes the trajectory of everything. For the disciples, their grief and confusion and fear is changed into purpose and mission. All the things that Jesus had taught and said while they sojourned with him now comes to bear. They are made new, given new purpose, and put on a new mission.

However, before any of this can happen, Jesus has some business with Peter. Now, it bears repeating that Peter, in so many of the gospel stories, can act as a stand-in for us. Peter’s unbridled enthusiasm, clumsy awkwardness, cool understanding, grievous misunderstanding, and, above all, his enormous love for Jesus are much like our own. So, when the gospel story focuses on Peter, we are invited to find our place in the story.

Remember how the story goes? As Jesus is preparing for his arrest and crucifixion, Peter boasts of his loyalty but Jesus tells Peter that, indeed, Peter would deny knowing Jesus three times before the cock crows. And so it goes that Peter is accosted repeatedly by bystanders as he waits outside while Jesus is being questioned by the high priests, and each time Peter denies knowing Jesus – not once, not twice, but three times. And then Peter is absent at the crucifixion and is among the disciples who meet behind locked doors out of fear.

Now, on the shore of the sea, after they had eaten their breakfast, Jesus speaks to him directly: “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Jesus asks Peter – no once, not twice, but three times, “Do you love me?” Three times Peter affirms his love for Jesus and each time Jesus commands Peter to feed the flock.

Peter is given the opportunity to undo his denial with three affirmations of love. While the word “forgiveness” never appears, it is nevertheless an essential them in this appearance narrative. Peter, impulsive and hot-headed, endearing and loving, gave in to fear and failed to acknowledge Jesus. He failed to stick around for the bitter end but is now faces the risen Lord and begin anew. In the words of that great hymn, Peter came with joy to meet his Lord, “forgiven, loved and free.” Then Jesus tells him what to do with that love: feed the flock.

It is in this scene that I think we can find the deepest implications of Resurrection life. We are forgiven! We are invited to start anew! We are completely loved! We are completely free!

And, like Peter, we have a job to do. You see, this isn’t just Peter’s story, it’s our story as well. When fear holds us back, love can call us forward. When we are trapped by the way things have always been, we can cast our nets on the other side of the boat. We are made anew and change our perspectives in the light of Resurrection.

Are we held back from the abundant life Jesus promises by guilt, shame and fear? Imagine if we knew ourselves to be completely forgiven, completely loved, and completely free, how would that change the choices we make about how we treat others, neighbor and stranger? …about our relationship to work and money? …about our commitment to live life and be love?

Are we, as a faith community, making choices about our mission, our welcoming, our evangelizing, our budget, our common life based on a fear of failure, guilt for past failures, shame of the story, or judgment of others? Imagine if we knew ourselves to be completely loved, completely forgiven and completely free, how would that change the way we feed the lambs, take care of the sheep, and feed the sheep?

We are called to proclaim God’s love by word and example to a world in desparate need of love. This means setting aside fear, shame, and guilt as well as judgment, greed, and pride that bind us to small lives. This means that we embrace love as the basis of everything we do and everything we are or want to be.

God’s love is set loose in the Resurrection. It needs our hands and feet and hearts to make it concrete in our place and time. We are invited, like Peter, to change our perspective, to cast our nets where on the other side of the boat where God’s love is present for everyone.

“Come and have breakfast.” We are forgiven. We are loved. We are free. And we have some sheep to feed.