A Sermon preached in
 |
| photo CCO Public Domain |
The Third Sunday of Easter,
Year C
10 April 2016
10 April 2016
May the words of my mouth and
the meditations of all our hearts be always acceptable to you, O Lord, our
strength and our redeemer.
Listen here.
Listen here.
“Up
and at ‘em and jump into the pool!”
This
was our family wake-up call during my childhood’s long, hot, California
summers. And so we did. Get up and jump into the pool. And sometimes we would don our bathing suits,
even. Or just jump in with our pajamas
on. Hearing today about Peter’s jump
into the sea, with his clothes on, like the buffoon he played, got me thinking
about how Peter just, “got up and at ‘em and jumped in.”
The
presence of Jesus on the beach served as Peter’s wake-up call during his long
and difficult sleep of grief – the grief that “going fishing” was supposed to
relieve. Jesus woke him from the grief
Peter thought would go away by the familiar spray of the sea mist, the sway of
the boat beneath his feet, and the weight and texture of the fishing nets.
Of
course, Peter wanted the familiar – just like we all do when a family drama
turns our life sideways. We yearn for the familiar, we long for our sense of
“normalcy.” That’s why Peter went fishing in the first place.
And,
the beloved disciple’s exclamation, “It is the Lord!” woke Peter out of his
sleepy post-traumatic shock from the week’s previous events: Jesus’ passion,
crucifixion, death, empty tomb and re-appearances. Seeing Jesus on the
beach also brought back Peter’s guilt. He
had said he would follow Jesus all the way to the end, even to death. Yet, when
tested, Peter succumbed to his own vulnerability, his own fear and so denied
Jesus – not once, but three times, just as Jesus had predicted.
That
morning, hearing Jesus’ voice, “…cast
the net to the right side of the boat!” triggered Peter’s heartache and
angst. And in that micro-second, Peter wondered if he would ever be able
to make it right with Jesus, to forgive himself. Then, seeing the abundance of fish in
the nets was the last straw.
Peter
got up and at ‘em; and as he jumped into the sea, the rush of water gushing
past his ears rang out a memorial torrent of struggle, of vulnerability, and of
Love:
·
the
wedding party at Cana where Jesus turned water into wine
·
the
way Jesus up-ended the tables in the temple
·
the
meeting Jesus had with the Samaritan woman,
·
the
hungry crowd Jesus fed with just the 2 fish and 2 loaves.
Once
Peter and the disciples had hauled in their catch Jesus told them to bring some
of the fish they had just caught, to add to what he offered. In this simple,
yet, profound request, Jesus not only provided
for the disciples, but he also invited them to contribute. To contribute what they had and, by
extension, who they were.
In
sharing a meal of food that each provided, Jesus drew them all back into mutual
relationship. In this way, Jesus
informed the disciples: he needed them to partner with him as co-creators of
God’s realm here on Earth. And Jesus
asks us to bring what we have – and who we are: our gifts and our
gaps, our strengths and struggles, our love and our longings – to be part of
the Jesus movement.
In
the meal we share, Jesus draws us into mutual relationship, to make, together,
a world as God dreams it can be. After sharing that meal, Jesus and Peter sat
together. The charcoal fire must
have reminded Peter of that other
charcoal fire – where Peter stood, warming himself, on that awful night of
Jesus’ arrest and torture, when Peter denied knowing Jesus.
Now
Peter faced his Beloved teacher and Lord.
Courageously, in his vulnerability, he met Jesus one-on-one and looked
into the eyes of the one he deeply loved – and denied. Jesus spoke first, “Simon Peter, son of John,
do you love me?” Peter responded, “Yes,
Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus
replied, “Feed my sheep.” Three times he
asked Peter to confess. Three times he did,
though by the third time he was disheartened, even hurt. Three times he invited Peter to express his
love, symbolically wiping away the three times Peter had denied him.
Jesus
got up and at ‘em and forgave Peter – and more. God was at work
through
the Risen Christ
restoring Peter back into the discipleship community and giving him meaningful
work to do. The good news here is that forgiveness leads to mission, restoration
to purpose, and inclusion to calling.
A
few years ago, I read a book called The Five Love Languages.[1] The premise of the book is expressing love in
a way that the other understands. The
five love languages are:
First,
“words of affirmation.” In this language, spoken praise and
appreciation is like rain on parched soil.
“I forgive you”, “thank you” or “you are important” shows love and
belonging for those who speak “verbal.”
Second,
“acts of service.”
In this language, actions speak louder than words: preparing a casserole for someone
in crisis, making meals at Crossroads, baby sitting for the neighbor, or
planting trees & shrubs to beautify the Moross Greenway; serving means love
and belonging for those who speak “show me.”
Third,
“receiving gifts.” In this language, love is symbolized. A
cheerful Easter bouquet delivered to a friend who cannot get to church or a
simple note card with a ribbon inside means the world for those who speak
“gifted” love.
Fourth,
“quality time.”
In this language, undivided attention, such as sharing a cup of tea, sitting
with someone in hospital, or even taking a walk around the block means so much for
those who speak “be with me.”
Fifth,
“physical touch.” In this language, physical connection, such
as a hand on a grieving friend’s shoulder or a simple handshake communicates love
for those who speak “touch.”
Tell,
serve, give, be, touch. Verbs of love.
Jesus
asks us all, “do you love me?” and invites us to “tend my sheep,” to show our
love, perhaps through words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts,
quality time or physical touch. And in
so doing, we are restored. We have purpose.
God,
through the Risen Christ, met and loved Peter right where he was. And
that love inspired Peter to live his way into a new way of thinking, rather
than think his way into a new way of living.[2]
Today,
Jesus gets up and at ‘em and forgives us– and more – he loves us, restores us
and gives us purpose. We the impetuous,
clueless, head-strong ones who God entrusts to “feed my sheep,” to show God’s
Love.
Jesus
gets up and at ‘em and jumps into our pool – the pool of our life, individually
and communally – our family, our work, our play, our callings, our worries, our
quirks. Today, Jesus’ love inspires us to
get up & at ‘em and jump into the pool – the pool of God’s realm, the pool
of the Jesus movement.
May
we all, today, jump in – whether in fishing clothes or pajamas – for the Love
of God.
Amen
[1] Gary Chapman, The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts, (Northfield Publishing, Chicago, 1992)
[2] Richard Rohr, “We do not think
ourselves into new ways of living, we live ourselves into new ways of
thinking,” as quoted in several of his books, including Falling Upwards and
Everything Belongs.
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