Third Sunday of Easter (C)
April 18, 2010
Acts 5:27b-32, 40b-41 X Rev 5:11-14 X John 21:1-19
It was a swan dive, straight into the sea.
Swan dive is perhaps not the best description. “Duck dive” is closer to the truth, since the divers were rubber duckies. In 1992, twenty containers of rubber duckies and other bath toys were riding a cargo ship from China to Seattle. When a violent storm struck the ship, these containers of toys were tossed into the ocean.
Feared to be lost were 29,000 rubber duckies, frogs, beavers and turtles.
But don’t cry for these bathtub voyagers. They survived and embarked on an epic journey across three oceans and half the globe. So tough are these toys that they stayed afloat for more than a decade. Through it all, they have endured, although constant exposure to the elements has caused their bright yellow skin to become bleached, white as a bone.
Their 12-year odyssey has brought them to the East Coast of USA.
All of which reminds us for some reason of the apostle Peter, a man who — given what we know about his temperament — would not take kindly to being compared to a yellow rubber duck.
But hey. When his own skin was on the line, he did lie about whether he was a friend of Jesus, and he did so not once, not twice, but three times.
Now, Simon Peter and his fishing buddies are out on the lake trying to put their lives back together after witnessing the simultaneously awful and awesome events of Holy Week. They fish all night and catch nothing, an experience that leaves them feeling frustrated.
Then a stranger appears on the beach at dawn. He calls out that they should “Cast the net to the right side of the boat” (John 21:6). As if that will make any difference. Besides, he doesn’t even know it the starboard side, not the “right” side.
But no one has any better ideas and as the sun rises, time for fishing will be over anyway. So they cast the net to the right, and the rest, as they say, is history. The net is so full of fish that they can’t haul it in. The apostle John now shouts that the stranger is the Lord. Simon does a double take, and he, too, sees that it is Jesus.
His first instinct is to jump overboard right now. But he has both the rare presence of mind to realize that he has been working through the night clad only in his boxers. A sense of modesty causes him to grab an “outer garment” and lashes it about his waist. Then does a duck dive into the sea and swims to shore — leaving John and the others to get the fish in the boat and the boat to shore.
Within minutes, all of the disciples are on the shore with Jesus, and he directs them to give him some of the fish they had just caught. Peter leaps back in the boat and grabs the net of fish and hauls it to shore himself. A hundred and fifty-three fish in that net.
Meanwhile, a charcoal fire is lit, and the fish — which to this day is known as St. Peter’s Fish, not much more than an oversized croppie or bluegill — is frying over the fire.
When they finish eating, Jesus turns and says to Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Peter says to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” And Jesus says to him, “Feed my lambs.”
Without missing a beat, Jesus asks again if Peter loves him, and after Peter says that he does love him, Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.”
Then again, as though the question had not been asked, Jesus inquires about Peter’s love. Peter is hurt by this persistent questioning, and he blurts out, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”
Jesus commands him, once again, “Feed my sheep” (vv. 15-17).
Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. What is Jesus doing in this dialogue with Simon Peter? On one level, he is giving Peter the opportunity to cancel out the three cowardly denials he made during Holy Week. Although Peter had insisted three times that he was not a disciple of Jesus, now he affirms three times that he loves his Lord. Three denials, three affirmations. The slate is now wiped clean. You could say that as a disciple, this duck has turned from cowardly yellow, to loyal true-blue follower.
But there is something more significant going on here. Jesus is laying out a job description for disciple wannabes, people who will be involved in the day-to-day work of caring for the people of God.
It’s not quite enough to merely perform a duck-dive into the waters of discipleship after having a mystical experience or a spiritual high at a retreat, Marriage Encounter, summer camp, Promise Keepers, or even the Easter Vigil.
If you love Jesus, you’ve got to get dressed, wade ashore, roll up your sleeves, and dig into the work of discipleship if you want to tend and feed the flock of God.
Unfortunately, there are too many of us who are floating aimlessly on the sea of life like those 29,000 Chinese rubber bath toys drifting. They move only in the direction that the current takes them — like too many Christians today move only as the cultural winds and current dictate. Paul touches on this theme when he says, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2).
The will of God, Jesus says, is that Peter and those who would love Jesus like Peter said he did, must feed the lambs, tend the sheep and feed the sheep. The repetition Jesus invokes here is reminiscent of the old business aphorism about location, location, location.
What does a disciple do? Feed, tend, feed.
Feed, tend, feed. That’s our mission statement. Feed, tend, feed the flock of God.
Can we take a look at everything we’re doing at Saint Patrick and say that it falls within this ministry rubric that Jesus lays out on the shores of the Sea of Galilee?
Christian community is not mere hospitality, courtesy or sociability. It’s not a least-common-denominator fellowship along the lines of a neighborhood potluck.
True Christian community makes demands on its members, and expects a high level of commitment. Regular worship is essential, and not leaving after Communion, as if somehow it is over. Discussion of theology and Scripture is imperative. Churches need to be careful of pandering to the feel-good demands of low-commitment members. That’s a fatal mistake.
It’s much better to have high expectations, and to maintain a discipleship direction. Churches that find a way to do this are faster-growing, longer-lasting and more vital than congregations with a relaxed view of community life.
Feeding Christ’s sheep means looking outward, beyond the walls of our Christian community. Feeding the vulnerable lambs that Jesus has entrusted to our care means putting time, energy and money into the concerns of the community around us. Whether the issues are family disintegration, illiteracy, alcoholism, domestic violence or gang activity, it is important for us to be an outward-looking congregation that engages the world with a servant mentality.
This may mean actually going against the current! It may result in some unpleasantness and misunderstanding from the world around us. Just as Jesus warned Peter that someone would “fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go” (v. 18), we may find ourselves facing some stomach-churning situations as we fulfill; our mission: feed, tend, feed.
We’ll also find that, in an unexpected way, this outward focus has an internal advantage: It results in a more vital congregation. Jesus wasn’t kidding when he said that those who lose their lives for his sake will actually save their lives, as they discover the new life that comes through service and sacrifice (Mark 8:35).
A concern for the community not only benefits society, but makes the church itself more appealing. People are attracted to congregations that put faith into action and set out to make a difference in the world.
So, where are we today on our Christian journey? Floating like duckies wherever the current takes us, or steering ourselves in the direction of discipleship?
Perhaps it’s time roll up our sleeves, hit the beach and feed some sheep.
Jesus asks you. Do YOU love me? Feed, tend, feed my sheep.