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Gospel Reflection 20070422

Possessions can be a subtle trap.
St. Francis wanted no property because he felt it would keep him from loving God. He did not consider the problem to be money, houses or land, but rather attachment to things. Sometimes, you think you are in control but wake up to find that you are being controlled. By living poorly, Francis proved that happiness can be found in God's love, and is not dependent upon owning things.

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Third Sunday of Easter
The Fisher of Men Is Not Let Off the Hook
April 22, 2007

Gospel
Jn 21:1-19

At that time, Jesus revealed himself again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias.
He revealed himself in this way.
Together were Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymus,
Nathanael from Cana in Galilee,
Zebedee’s sons, and two others of his disciples.
Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.”
They said to him, “We also will come with you.”
So they went out and got into the boat,
but that night they caught nothing.
When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore;
but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
Jesus said to them, “Children, have you caught anything to eat?”
They answered him, “No.”
So he said to them, “Cast the net over the right side of the boat
and you will find something.”
So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in
because of the number of fish.
So the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.”
When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord,
he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad,
and jumped into the sea.
The other disciples came in the boat,
for they were not far from shore, only about a hundred yards,
dragging the net with the fish.
When they climbed out on shore,
they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread.
Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught.”
So Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore
full of one hundred fifty-three large fish.
Even though there were so many, the net was not torn.
Jesus said to them, “Come, have breakfast.”
And none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?”
because they realized it was the Lord.
Jesus came over and took the bread and gave it to them,
and in like manner the fish.
This was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples

after being raised from the dead.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”
Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”
He then said to Simon Peter a second time,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.”
Jesus said to him the third time,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was distressed that Jesus had said to him a 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.
Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger,
you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted;
but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands,
and someone else will dress you
and lead you where you do not want to go.”
He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God.
And when he had said this, he said to him, “Follow me.”



ONE
They recognized Him. Three years before this encounter with Jesus, the Apostles experienced another amazing catch of fish as a result of this new man they just met. The result was to change the course of their lives forever.
At first encounter, it was Jesus' charisma that made them drop everything they were doing and follow Him. Who was this guy who had answers for everything and who could make sense of the scriptures? What was the attraction?
Jesus had a power. He had a purpose. He had an agenda. His confidence was clear and it was contagious.
His apostles recognized that He was something special. Why? Because He stirred their hearts and challenged their minds.
In the three years that they walked with him they got to know His humanness. They were taken by His goodness. They were willing students who wanted to learn. They had the desire to imitate Him. Jesus fulfilled a need that you and I have as well: A will to make sense out of the non-sense of life. Jesus showed them the way. But, something went terribly wrong.
Suddenly the whole world seemed to drop out from under the feet of the Apostles. Their leader, this super-human person, seemed to be just like everyone else -- subject to suffering and death. What did they do? They scattered! It wasn't until they regrouped to gather their wits and gained new strength from one another that they would be in a position to accept the realities of what was still to happen.
Now, here we see Jesus revealing Himself to them in different ways. The Apostles realized that Jesus did, indeed, rise from the dead. The experience was so profound that the Apostle's lives would be changed forever. The confidence they gained was so powerful and so pervasive that fear would never again become a factor in their zeal to spread the gospel message. They knew that everything that Jesus said and did was absolute truth. And now they were willing to go to their deaths proclaiming Jesus as the Messiah.
That same zeal is what the Church needs today from its priests and from the laity. We haven't had the luxury of seeing the risen Christ first hand. Or, have we? Don't we see Christ working in His Church? How else could it be possibly have grown , even with all the difficulties it has faced right up to the present crisis, if the Holy Spirit wasn't there actively working? Why is it that for every person who exhibits evil and hatred there are countless others who try to live the Christian life?
The answer is that God IS with us. He never left. Like the apostles we are asked to carry Jesus' loving message to the world around us. We must carry the torch of faith in our hearts and in our minds. We, like Peter, must know that we will not always be in control; that believing can result in dying. Maybe not the kind of death Peter had to endure but rather a dying to self. Denying the bad and accepting the good to which only Jesus can lead us. And, like Peter, Jesus is asking you, today, "Follow me."

TWO
One way to draw a crowd is to have someone famous appear. Whether you are opening a business or trying to revive your attendance, having someone popular make an appearance seems to draw a crowd. Although the appearances of Jesus after his resurrection may not have drawn huge crowds, they happened with the people who needed them most.
In today's gospel, the appearance of Jesus focuses on Peter. After the multiplication of the fish in the nets, Jesus focuses his attention on Peter. He has something left over that must be taken care of with Jesus. Peter has betrayed Jesus, forsaking his friend in his time of need. He has a need for an encounter with the risen Jesus.
As Jesus questions Peter, Jesus uncovers the most important question. Do You Love Me? They could have spoken about many other things. They could have rehashed the betrayal and the hurt. They could have talked in detail about the consequences of his actions, but the most important question is brought to the surface. Do You Love Me?
Peter has a more realistic experience of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. It may have been easier in the past to say he was a disciple, when he believed that Jesus would be victorious and Peter would be able to be in charge. It might have looked and felt more appealing to be known as a follower of Jesus then than it did after the crucifixion. Jesus asks Peter if he loves him from the context of his new experiences. He says, "Peter, knowing what you know now, Do You Love Me?"
This is a reality check. It is almost as if Jesus would say to those of us who have been living this Christian life for some time now, "Knowing what you know now, Do You Love Me?" After many years of marriage or priesthood, many years of being faithful in relationship to friends and family, after many years of trying to feed the hungry and give shelter to the homeless, Do You Love Me?" Now that we know what is involved in being a disciple of Jesus, do we still want to be involved with our whole lives?
This is a perfect Easter Question. The Resurrection is certainly exciting, but what about the suffering and death of Jesus. It is one thing to embrace the Resurrection, but can we get our arms around the suffering and death, as well as the Resurrection?
Many of us were given the gift of Baptism at infancy. Some have chosen it later in life. Inevitably, we learn more of the details of what it means to be Jesus' disciple as we try to be faithful to the call. All of us have been unfaithful. We have abandoned Jesus when he most needed us. His face is the face of the hungry and thirsty, the naked and the homeless, the sick and imprisoned. We have abandoned them and him for our own comfort. Rather than making us go through all the details and making us feel even more guilty than we do already, Jesus asks us today a simple question. Knowing what you know now, as you sit in this church this morning, are you willing to feed my sheep? Do you love me? If you do, will you be attentive to me and not betray me? Before you say yes, please think of the consequences.
If we say yes, then we commit ourselves to relinquish the final control of our lives. We decide that we are not the center of our universe. This is a step of faith. It has real and lasting consequences. It will change how we live. And Jesus will take us on our word.
What are the consequences in your life? Where have you been betraying Jesus in your personal discipleship? Toward yourself, in your family, in your neighborhood, at work, in your encounter with strangers, in your uses of your worldly resources? How must we shift our attention away from ourselves and make our attention more inclusive?
Look to the fringes, the outskirts of your family, your neighborhood, your community, your world. Who are the ones who are often betrayed? We may betray them with our judgments. We might decide they are unworthy of our attention and kindness? They may appear to be ungrateful toward our generosity. Is that a reason to turn our back on them? We may betray them with our lack of forgiveness and compassion. How many times must we forgive, seventy times seven? How generous and giving must we be? Do I betray you when I choose what I want? Knowing what you know now, Do You Love Me?
This direct Easter question was given by Jesus to Peter and is given to us today. It is ours to answer Yes or No, not with our words but with our lives.

THREE

It is hard to know who was more nostalgic: Peter or Jesus. Given all that had happened to Peter, it seems almost banal that he would still want to go fishing. But deep in his consciousness, he, and the others who went with him, wanted perhaps to recapture, not so much the big number of fish, as the experience of that unforgettable morning, some three years earlier, when the man from Nazareth had first preached from the fisherman’s boat. The Carpenter had then given Peter the strange command to put out into deep water for a catch. Overwhelmed by the catch and by Jesus, Peter had asked the Lord to leave him, for he was a sinful man. Indeed, he was! And Jesus did not deny it; but, alas, it would only be on the night Jesus was arrested that Peter’s sinfulness would become all too painfully clear. Now, after the “Jesus matter” seemed all over, Peter still feels guilty about his denials. He wanted to relive the experience of Christ’s forgiveness: “Do not be afraid! I will make you a fisher of men.” Peter felt a stinging nostalgia for that most personal presence and compassionate gaze of the Master, and for those words of mercy which had lifted his very soul from depths deeper than the waters of any ocean. With the memory of thrice betraying Jesus still fresh in his mind, Peter was again in those depths; he felt the dark of the night and its emptiness as he now went to fish again, and again catch nothing. He longed for Jesus to come near once more and preach from his boat.
For His part, the Risen Jesus knew of Peter’s plight. Both as man and as God, Jesus too would feel some manner of nostalgia for His friends; their unfaithfulness did not make Him unfaithful. So, He does come again to Peter, to renew His call to him, in a way, in a place and at a time that Peter would understand and that would fill his heart. Jesus does not revoke His call, or His friendship, or His love. No, He remembers, revisits and restores. He comes again to those He had called at the beginning of His public ministry, especially to Peter, and, now free from death, He reinstates them with the power and authority of His Resurrection. How goodly and considerate Jesus is in the way He draws them back to Himself! He comes unobtrusively and fraternally, measuring the manifestation of His power in a degree which enabled them to recognize Him: He eats with them, in a manner and in words which would remind them of the Last Supper, the banquet of charity, the ultimate gift of His love. Jesus thus shows His own fond memories of when He first called them and of when He last left them to die freely for their eternal happiness. They were bound together in the memory of His love.
Peter’s response to this is both typical of the man and yet filled with that strength and energy which come from knowing that someone who loves you, literally “to death”, is near at hand. Peter probably just cannot believe that his nostalgic hopes would be so, so wonderfully fulfilled by Jesus. Had Jesus asked Peter to stand on his head, there is no doubt he would have done so!
However, both Jesus and Peter knew that there was still some “unfinished business” to be taken care of. The other apostles present needed to know how things now stood between the Lord and Peter, in part, at least, that they might be able to put their full trust again in the one who had denied Jesus. As regards the one-on-one relationship between Peter and Jesus, it is possible that the two were already fully reconciled before this scene. In St. Luke’s Gospel, and also in First Corinthians 15, mention is made of an appearance of Jesus to Peter by himself. Indeed, Jesus knows just how much Peter is hurting, and needs to confess, and so comes to comfort him, and above all to reassure him that the look Jesus had given him, on that fateful night at the house of Caiaphas, was indeed a look of total forgiveness. In that private encounter, one can only imagine how Peter wept and how Jesus wept, for joy.
In this collective encounter, however, Jesus seems to want to restore and deepen the bonds between Peter and the others, as well as to show them that Peter is truly repentant and forgiven. Note that Jesus does not begin the conversation with any manner of remonstration. His approach is always amiable and generous, never scary and mean. Only after breakfast, after sharing together, does He ask Peter to speak up with courage. His opener is a question directed to the intensity of Peter’s love for Him, not to the misery of his denials. It is the perennial question of God to every human being: do you love me more than these others? Do you love me more than they love me, more than you love anything or anyone else, including yourself, more than you used to love me? Peter was already first in faith; Jesus now offers to him to be first also in love. But the word “more” itself suggests … more! It suggests a conscious choice, and a constant growth; it stimulates renewed effort and perseverance; it fires a holy restlessness for Jesus; it is the stuff of holiness, of surrender and sacrifice, indeed of martyrdom. It is also a question which instills great hope in the sinner: here am I, says the sinner, so bad, so low, so sinful, so unworthy, but here is Jesus asking me if I will love Him more than all others! With this question, Jesus seems to promise the sinner: it is because you have been so low, and yet have turned to me out of those depths, that I will raise you on high in the power of my love. When you were low, you remembered Peter, not Judas. Because of Jesus’ question to Peter, all love for Jesus is now Petrine. The truth of Peter’s faith and of Peter’s love is now the matrix of our own.
Yet this question is also unsettling, distressing, as Peter plainly showed. He could not fail to make the link between it and his own triple denial, and it was precisely the third time Jesus asked him the question that Peter felt the pain. The pain of repentance, deep and anguishing, is the pain of giving birth to love. It is a pain Peter would rather have avoided, because it makes the memory of the sin all the more acute. But Jesus, in His infinite knowledge of the heart, knows that unless the memory is faced, accepted and confessed, it cannot be healed. Sin is not to be glossed over, but flushed out. The distress is not for distress’ sake, but because the very nature of sin, in its lying secrecy, needs to be purged by truthful openness. Jesus wins Peter over to this, but at the same time, encourages him to reach out for that “more”, that greater love; effectively, Jesus reveals to Peter that, by divine mercy, his ability to love is greater than his ability to sin. Jesus is repeating to Peter what He had said to him when first they met: “Do not be afraid of your sins! Follow me, and I will make you a fisher of men.”
In response to Peter’s triple confession of “more” love, Jesus entrusts to him the task of feeding and caring for the flock. Indeed, unless an apostle loves Christ “more”, he will be unable to feed the flock with the food it needs. Pastoral ministry, the task of the shepherd, is essentially to love Christ more than all else. It is to call all others to love Him, to be lifted up from their depths, called back from their wandering. The more the shepherd loves Christ, the more he will feel empowered and fired to feed others with that love, and, like the Good Shepherd, to lay down his life for his sheep, the act of supreme love. This “greatest” love is precisely the promise Jesus makes to Peter once his “greater” love has been confessed: when you were young, in those days of self-assertion and self-fulfillment, you did your own thing; but, because you love me, you will, when you are older, be taken as was I, and give your life for me and for the sheep. When love for Christ has become the reason for one’s life, nothing can be more logical than to give it up for His sake. His love is greater than death, because it is better than life. When death is still on the stage of human life, what can there be in this life that can merit the unique treasure of our hearts? This does not mean that we do not love the other gifts Christ has given us, but it does mean that nothing and no-one beyond Him can claim to be our alpha and omega, our all. In the words of Jesus Himself, “If anyone prefers father or mother, son or daughter, to me, he is not worthy of me.” To prefer is precisely to “love more than”, as Jesus puts it in His question to Peter. To cling to the realities of this life, in a way which denies Christ, implicitly or explicitly, is to return with the old Peter to the house of Caiaphas. All who prefer Christ to absolutely all else, will and must also return to the house of Caiaphas, but with Christ. Most of us will not stand trial for our faith and love of Christ, but no-one should doubt, even today, that the power of Christ, on the one hand, and the hatred of the world, on the other, will draw some to offer the ultimate sacrifice. When Jesus first called Peter, He made no mention of martyrdom. Now, however, in renewing that call, Jesus makes it plain to Peter that the gift of martyrdom will be given to him and asked of him. Towards the end of our Gospel scene, when Jesus says to Peter, “follow me”, Peter at last understands that the glory of Jesus is not to sit on the political throne of an earthly kingdom, but to be crucified in loving sacrifice to the Father and to die for our redemption. To glory through the Cross, Peter must follow Jesus.
Our nostalgia for Christ is hopefully great, and He surely knows it. But His nostalgia for us, for the earth He walked and for the human race He so, so loves, is even greater, and is manifest nowhere more completely than in the Eucharist. As we partake of the Body and Blood of Christ, Jesus asks each of us, not for the third, but for the “nth” time, “Do you love me more than these others?” No matter how distressful that may be for each of us to hear and to answer, it is surely breathtaking and inspiring that “humble we” can satisfy the divine nostalgia by crying out from our depths, “Yes, Lord, you know everything. You know I love you.”

posted by Mike Young @ 6:46 AM