04 May Sermon – Sunday, May 4, 2025
Things to be gleaned from today’s readings: Jesus shows up in person to deal directly with those in need, those being threatened or those doing the threatening. He chooses how and when to do so and when he shows up, lives are transformed so that people become empowered to fulfill whatever Jesus asks of them.
The process involves questioning both our actions and motives. What are we doing and why? After giving a verbal answer, we are asked to prove our credibility and make a fact out of our word.
In the midst of doing our thing, whatever that is, Jesus appears to challenge and even provoke, to guide and instruct when what we yield amounts to nothing or amounts to trouble from God’s perspective. In both the case of Saul and Jesus’ disciples they are at first clueless. They know nothing but what happens to them firsthand, by what they experience personally. After all, isn’t that the way any of us comes to really know the truth?
What each of the disciples dreamt of all night long, the idea of having fresh fish for breakfast chargrilled over a nice fire on the beach, wouldn’t have come true through their own efforts. Btw, It was common in those days for fishermen to fish at night so that in the morning they’d have the freshest fish to sell throughout the day. But had Jesus not told his disciples exactly where to cast their nets, they would have had no fish. Of course, he knew before he asked if they had caught any. Perhaps he just wanted to hear them admit to being unsuccessful on their own so he could join them in celebrating the difference his input and guidance would prove to their fate.
They had the luxury of Jesus telling them what to do and him also telling them what the results would be. What we wouldn’t give for that kind of relationship with Jesus, right? I wonder if what happens here really is a formula for success. Maybe obtaining the best outcome is as simple as following the pattern of discipleship 2.0, that is, after Jesus seems out of the picture.
I mean with Jesus out of the picture, what else can people do but try to succeed on their own at first, based on whatever you already know or are able to figure out. Then when we fail, which will happen eventually, we’ll realize our lack of control in spite of our combined knowledge and our very best efforts.
The next step is no more than a truthful admission of our limitations, an honest answer to Jesus’ inquiry. “Nope, we tried, but couldn’t. We hoped to find gain, but now we must confess, we got nothing.” In that moment, Jesus is glad to tell us exactly what to do so we will find what we search for. The next part is often confusing for us. Even if we want to do exactly what Jesus says, the instructions are rarely as simple and uncomplicated as casting to one side of the boat versus the other. Predicted results aren’t as easily noticeable or measurable like a net full of what we hoped for or wished to haul in.
How can these passages apply to us? Surely, the author, John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, didn’t write this gospel narrative merely to brag about his own encounter with Jesus. Perhaps he wrote this to share with us the importance of recognizing Jesus in our midst as the helper who shows up without invitation, the one able to offer advice without being asked, the one who knows something we don’t and might be willing to bring a future dream into our present reality.
Upon recognizing Jesus as Lord, Peter is ashamed of his nakedness. I guess if one is fishing in the dark and one can’t readily wash one’s work outfit at the local laundromat, one just might work naked. How funny is it that Peter puts on some clothes and then jumps into the sea, right?
Once again, Peter demonstrates how it’s human nature to overcompensate when we are afraid, full of fear, or threatened by embarrassment. Other disciples wade through water fully clothed to get into the boat and help drag the net full of fish a hundred yards to shore. What is really going on here? Not the norm, for sure.
When Jesus says, “Bring some of the fish that you’ve just caught,” Simon Peter goes aboard and hauls the net to shore, a net full of 153 large fish of which none have torn through.
You gotta love what Jesus does next. He says, “Come and have breakfast.” Four words that have universal appeal, almost as much as hearing these three words, “Dinner is ready.” Who can refuse such an offer of hospitality? No one even needs to reply by saying, “What are we having?” Bread and fish, the staples of a Mediterranean diet served hot and fresh, right off a charcoal grill, flame broiled to perfection like America’s favorite hamburgers and hotdogs.
But none of the disciples dare to ask, as Saul did, “Who are you,” because they already know it was the Lord. They eat together and finish breakfast. Satisfied in every way, were they ready for Jesus’ next challenge. Perhaps not. Perhaps they wanted to let their breakfast digest a bit. After all, they’d been up all night. They may still be grieving. Most likely they’re still a bit wet and tired. Evidently, time won’t wait and Jesus knows this.
Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” More than these “what” we don’t know exactly, but we must assume that Peter knows for he answers by saying, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Perhaps Peter only hears the first part because he stops listening after that and only addresses whether he loves Jesus, not whether he loves him more than these.
Jesus replies in turn with specific instructions, “Feed my lambs.” Is this Jesus’ way of asking for proof of Simon Peter’s love or Jesus’ way of saying with surety, “I know you love me, that’s why I’m asking you to feed my lambs.” How many of us, when wanting something specific done a certain way, tend to repeat ourselves? We won’t be satisfied until we wear the other person down, until we know that we have their full commitment to do a thing the way we want it done to the last detail.
We do this when we can’t do a thing ourselves, but we know exactly how we would do it if we could. Doing this is a sign of our anxiety, of fearing the loss of control, of worry for the end result being out of our hands. Jesus is looking for no less than total commitment from Peter, the disciple most like us. Jesus wishes for every disciple to deliver a sworn promise to carry on as he would carry on if he were to remain on earth to feed and tend his sheep himself.
Of all the things Jesus might ask of us, he asks for us to feed and tend those whom he claims as his own sheep, the ones who know him, who hear and trust his voice. This implies that Jesus’ disciple becomes able to shepherd them, that they will be known and recognized, heard and trusted by those dependent upon them for everything that sheep need.
What sheep also need is the presence of each other. According to the Animal Welfare League, sheep find comfort in the mere presence of other sheep. They don’t need to be touching or grooming one another to feel connected, much like a congregation of German Lutherans, lol. Just knowing that other sheep are around and nearby is enough to calm their heart rate, lower blood pressure and prevent the release of a bunch of stress hormones into their nervous systems.
So, I wonder, “What are you not succeeding at or are self conscious about such that you avoid seeking help or hide from Jesus’ presence? What questions must be asked or answered in order for you to know what you’re capable of? Can you believe your own admissions when it comes to love or faithfulness? Should others believe you?”
In the large seminary chapel on the campus of Gettysburg, I was asked to read this gospel passage during a worship service. I wasn’t surprised when I began to tear up as Jesus repeatedly questioned Simon Peter, but was surprised when I actually broke down. That happened at the point where Peter replied upon the third time he was answering and said, “Lord, you know everything.” That’s where I lost it.
I was moved by the hyperawareness of words meaning so very little when what we do is at the heart of things, our willingness to care for others is where the bare truth of who we are comes down. When Peter says, “You know that I love you,” those words must be followed by a commitment to do something, to demonstrate love by feeding and tending, by vowing to follow wherever Jesus bids us to go.
Much like Peter, Saul was undone while traveling on the road to Damascus. He couldn’t see, eat or drink for days because he needed to be stopped in his tracks. His actions were not fulfilling God’s will, though they were a good match for his natural drive and talents. In fact, Saul’s natural pursuits were persecuting Jesus and followers of the Way. But the Lord gave him a way forward, a vision of restoration and redirection.
Like the disciples, he had to follow specific instructions and take direction. Others had to overcome their hesitancy to get involved. His true transformation involved multiple encounters with other Christians, the sacred ritual of baptism, eating and drinking food/taking nourishment provided by persons of God’s choosing.
Let us pray. Right now, Lord, we are used to going and doing, of making our way or finding our way under our own steam, using our own wits, benefitting from knowledge shared and advice given. When it comes time to admit defeat or emptiness, tell us where to turn, and for whom you wish us to care by feeding and tending. In your holy name we pray, Amen.