Peter, the Beloved Disciple, and why the way we judge ourselves keeps us from seeing how much we are truly loved.
And our erroneous scorecard
Easter 3 | John 21:1-19
So Jesus is just chilling at the beach, grilling fish. Last week, he was crashing their shindig in the upper room. Twice. Easter Jesus gets around! They can’t get rid of him! It’s like they said goodbye to him and yet everywhere they look, they still find him!
This beach scene is a crazy, packed story. If you’re following along with a Bible, you can see in the gospel of John that the Passion ends with chapter 19 (this is on page 882 of the pew Bible), the resurrection comes in chapter 20 with Jesus appearing to Mary, then Jesus appears to the disciples in the upper room twice: once without Thomas and then a second time so Thomas can get a chance.
So that gets us here: to the beach with about half of the disciples. Not locked in a room. But out in the sun.
There is so much going on in this story. And when we read it, I suspect that there is so much going on in our reactions to this story. I don’t want to assume I know what you are thinking, but I’ll tell you that when I read this story, I have to stop myself from making a ton of assumptions.
And a lot of them have to do with what I think of Peter. And what I think Jesus thinks of Peter and the other disciples.
The Beloved Disciple
A lot of our confusion comes from this strange idea found only in the gospel of John. The author of the book describes this mystery disciple, who remains nameless, but is referred to as the one whom Jesus loves. Which is a really strange thing to say. In general. Because is it love…or is it love love.
If it’s love, then does that mean Jesus doesn’t love any of the other disciples? Which includes Peter! And if that’s the case, that whole part of his asking Peter if he loves him becomes gross and narcissistic.
But if it’s love love then we’re talking about a whole other thing that very few Christians are willing to even think about.
The fact that neither option works for us leads us to a third option: that the author is trying to communicate that Jesus favors one of the disciples. One is particularly close to his heart. Like a teacher who can’t help appreciating a star student.
As we saw two weeks ago, at the resurrection, when the beloved disciple “wins” the footrace, and then here, again, identifies Jesus, we’re drawn into the idea of a disciple hierarchy: that someone is really good and the rest are just mediocre.
Now, if we flip to the end, to verses 20-25, we can see this beloved disciple is suddenly getting attention for all this belovedness. And, in a big Hollywood reveal, then testifies that it is, in fact, the author who Jesus thought was the best, most special disciple.
Peter vs. The Super Special Disciple
As we’ve seen already, the very idea of a Beloved Disciple is really kind of off-brand. Jesus has made it clear that his disciples are lovable idiots. These are the Bad News Bears. Not so much the ‘90s Chicago Bulls with the GOAT, Michael Jordan and a bunch of role players.
There is something genuinely fishy about this whole beloved disciple thing. Especially in light of the role Peter plays in the story.
We must now shift our focus to Peter. And here is where I have to bring up the part of the story I always get stuck on and I know I’m not the only one.
Why is Peter naked?
Seriously. Dude strips down to go fishing.
And if we’re buying the idea that John has it out for Peter and wants to make him look like a fool so that he looks super awesome by comparison, then Peter looks like a genuine crazy man in this story.
He decides to go fishing, recruits some friends, strips naked, and gets roasted by the sun. Then when Jesus comes along, he puts clothes on…to jump into the water. Leaving all of his buds to bring the load of fish to shore.
From a Bestest Most Specialist Disciple point of view, this is unexplainable. Peter has lost his mind.
And yet…the running theme in all of the gospels (including John) is that Jesus loves the weakest the most. That he gives preferential treatment to outcasts and the traitors.
So the idea that WE should think Peter is wrong and Mr. Perfect is right displays a thought process that does not reflect Jesus’s.
So what would happen if we flipped it?
The Special
Now, I just rewatched The Lego Movie, which is so much fun. Its story revolves around a prophecy in which one person was to come along who would be called “The Special” and he would save all the Lego people from Lord Business.
The irony is obvious from the beginning. The character who is The Special is totally the most average person imaginable. He is the least special. And so, of course, hijinks ensue.
But I think Emmet, “The Special”, can remind us that God’s sense of special can be so different from ours.
That, perhaps The Beloved Disciple is actually not so special.
And that there’s something normal about Peter.
Filling in the gaps
We don’t know what Peter does after he jumps into the water. Our attention goes to the disciples who stay in the boat, bring it to shore, and bring the haul in. We naturally fill in the gaps, assuming they are being prudent and respectful and Peter is…absent.
But Peter suddenly reappears, seeing the haul in the boat.
A reading of this story full of competitiveness and judgment, that seeks to make some disciples special and others failures is tempting, but it is stunting. Nor does it reflect the convictions of Jesus.
We like to fill in the gaps with what we know of our neighbors, our evaluation of how good they are at being faithful Christians. Or perhaps, like the narrators of our own story, we want to show just how special we are.
We are putting filler into the story to smooth over the gaps.
Peter jumps into the sea. Then he is on the shore. He avoided Jesus. Then he showed up. He didn’t want to face the truth. Then he sees all of those fish.
I can’t relate to Peter more than I do in this story.
And the one I don’t want to relate to? The one needing to tell everybody how special he is.
The Beloved Disciple already takes up too much headspace. But here’s the thing: I don’t want to reduce it to jealousy so I can just brush the whole narrative away. I actually think we learn from this.
It doesn’t matter if the writer of John was an unaware and cocky jerk or that he may genuinely reflect something Jesus said. His words about himself contrast with what Jesus teaches.
And Peter, on the other hand, is always trying. When Jesus says to jump, he says “how high?” Or sometimes, “I don’t have to jump to reach the flour for you, Jesus.” He is zealous and goofy. And so am I
Jesus goes to Peter.
And he asks him about love. Not Mr. Perfect. The one who thinks he’s all that. No. He goes to Peter. To give Peter the chance.
Do you love me?
Feed my sheep.
An opportunity rich and full of all of the feels. A moment of restoration and redemption. If we’re so busy judging Peter, we aren’t paying attention to the teachings of Jesus!
We’re the only ones worrying about Peter and the discipleship hierarchy and who Jesus prefers and what it all means! Jesus doesn’t seem to care a bit.
What is love to Jesus? Feeding his people.
Which people are his? All the people.
This story, for all of its details, action, confusion, and competition, comes down to Jesus telling Peter to be generous.
And the tragedy is that Peter spent how much time afraid of what Jesus would say? Going back to fishing for fish because he was a failure. Not good enough for this work. Not Mr. Perfect.
And when he finally faces it, Jesus is like You should just get back to the work God has called you to. What’s the hold up?
How many of us are Peter?
Running away when Jesus is just gonna say feed people. We’re imagining the worst and Jesus is like, nah, you’re good.
This is one of the things I encounter the most among people of faith: the convoluted self-assessments we use to justify how terrible we think we are. And how aggressively judgey Jesus is supposed to be with us, especially around things that we roll up into “the culture war”.
And what do we do? Avoid. We throw the clothes on and jump in the sea. And we run away, thinking Jesus will never forgive us. Thinking we can’t be redeemed. But the test, the thing we’re running away from is simply being seen, known, accepted, and loved for who we are. That we are good enough. And Jesus loves us.
Loves us and trusts us with the work of feeding the sheep.
Not Mr. Perfect.
Us. Naked. Clothed. Soaking wet. Ridiculous. Avoiding. Seeing. Believing. Loving. As we are. In all our limitations. Weak. Sad. Confused. Giving all we have.
Love. Feed. You are good. Not good enough. Good. Full stop.
Good for the sake of God’s work.