Intimacy, love, and discipleship
Easter 3C  |  John 21:1-19

Our friends are done with that locked house now. They are out on the water, fishing. Fresh air, not that stilted fear-filled air the city offers. No, out here, they can really breathe. It is heavenly out on a boat, just waiting.

Except when you aren’t catching anything. Then it’s pretty boring. And those of us who aren’t really into fishing, well, we pass the time with a book, I suppose. That’s what I did when my grandfather invited two of his grandsons to join him many, many years ago at his sacred fishing spot in Canada on the north shore of Lake Superior. I was 12, reading Stephen King’s It, which I found much more exciting. Yeah, he didn’t ask us back.

The disciples are out there fishing and catching nothing and then Jesus shows up and once again his followers can’t recognize him until the fish nearly capsize the boat. Fool me once, Jesus, shame on you, fool me twice…it’s not going to happen a third time. They’re probably getting pretty confident about that. We aren’t so sure. Their track record isn’t very good.

Getting Caught

My favorite part of the story, though, is that moment when Mr. Beloved, the disciple on the pedestal recognizes Jesus and nudges Peter, giving him the head’s up: “It is the Lord!” And it is at that moment that Peter realizes he wasn’t prepared to have company. He was, as they say, indisposed. And if you’ve ever had the doorbell ring when you’re running around indisposed, you know that bit of craziness when all reason flies from your brain and miracles can happen. You think you can walk and put pants on at the same time. And nobody can see you, either. What were you doing? Oh, nothing. Just…relaxing.

And, just like that footrace on Easter, these fools are still competing for biggest fool. What does Peter do? He puts on his clothes, then jumps into the water. You do the reverse of that, don’t you? You can’t swim in the robes! This is ridiculous. And hilarious. This is slapstick.

And for Peter, this is also painful. Jesus called him to fish for people and here he is, the one getting caught.

But what is he caught doing? Relaxing? Out in a boat with the disciples in the middle of nowhere? Why does he feel so guilty? Why does he assume he should feel guilty? So guilty as to look so foolish, like he’s embodying a Steve Martin standup routine? Is there actually a problem? Or is it all in his mind?

Because it doesn’t matter what he does because none of it makes sense. It is genuinely foolish. 

Foolish

We are set to see this foolishness, too, I suppose. How can we not see the foolishness in the story when we read it? He’s naked and clothing himself — it feels so shame-related, doesn’t it? Like he feels caught but nobody knows why. It really is in his mind, isn’t it?

And it is weird that he jumps in the water and the rest are just…you know…following directions. Like they aren’t crazy.

This is such an odd encounter, it doesn’t feel real. Like it needs to mean something. And I suppose it can, but it also doesn’t have to. I am increasingly thinking we have this story because the disciples who followed John just really like making Peter look stupid.

But what it does show, more than anything else, is how guilty Peter feels. About everything. And just how little that guilt has to do with anything Jesus taught him. Jesus is Peter’s biggest cheerleader. And I think it’s because he is so very foolish. 

I bet Luke is the sensible one. And John and James are the try-hards. And Andrew keeps collecting followers. But Peter just keeps speaking up and every time he does, he takes his foot and shoves it in his mouth. It may as well just stay there. So he must be getting flexible enough to make that happen, too. Maybe that’s where the name Christian comes from. They asked Peter about himself and he said “I’m a contortionist” and they misheard it. Peter keeps doing these embarrassing and humbling things and Jesus keeps cheering him up. It is a lovely relationship. Perhaps a little one-sided, a little co-dependent, but lovely.

Love

It is also why Jesus can turn to Peter after all this and ask him if he loves him. Three times he asks. Which we’re only used to having happen when one of the people is hard of hearing. Peter, do you love me? Huh? I said, do you love me? Huh? I was just asking if you loved me! Oh, well, yes, of course!

But this isn’t exactly what happens. Peter can hear Jesus just fine. In other words, he doesn’t have that excuse. Chalk it up to foolishness, again!

This sequence, though, is actually quite beautiful and is often treated by the faithful as a reversal of Peter’s thrice denial during the Passion. Jesus gives Peter another chance to fix things. Which is a wonderful option for those of us who have a tendency to do foolish things. Getting a do-over, a mulligan, is something we love not having to ask for. Jesus is giving him the greatest gift a fool can get: another chance to screw up. Which I have to tell you about.

In the Greek Scriptures, there are four words which all get translated as love. And two of them appear in this passage: Phileo and Agape. Phileo seems to be a more intimate word and Agape is associated with fraternity, what we like to call brotherly love.

Scholars aren’t sure exactly what Jesus is saying here, and we can definitely overstate its meaning or stretch these words to their breaking points, but let me show you how it reads. I like to use the Greek words here, but I saw someone use the word adore for Phileo, to offer that sense of attachment here, so I want to give that a shot.

The Exchange

Jesus: “Simon son of John, do you adore me more than these?”
Peter: “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” 

Jesus: “Simon son of John, do you adore me?”
Peter: “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” 

Jesus: “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?”
Peter: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

While Jesus gives Peter instruction about feeding the sheep, notice how Jesus is asking Peter about intimacy, using a word of direct affection. Do you really love me? And Peter’s like Yeah, you’re my bro, bruh. There’s distance here, isn’t there? And I think that is one of the essential characters of this story. That Jesus isn’t testing Peter, but Peter worries about being tested. That Jesus doesn’t think Peter is a fool, but Peter worries about being foolish. And Jesus is hoping Peter will get it. That this is love. Proximity. Closeness. Openness. And Peter is holding Jesus at arm’s length.

But in the end, the instruction to Peter is essentially the same. Feed my sheep. Jesus entrusts him with the feeding and protection of the flock.

Our Love

There is a way we do this Christianity thing that doesn’t worry what kind of love Jesus is talking about. So we might say, either way, the results are the same — that’s what Jesus cares about. We’re feeding sheep. Or, if we’re being honest, we tend to assume we’re the sheep sauntering over to the trough that mysteriously fills itself.

As readings go, this results-based response isn’t a bad one. It just lets us off the hook. 

I suspect most of us are like Peter. We have an easier time ignoring the intimacy stuff. We might, if we’re lucky, find one person in life that we’re willing to let see us naked in a boat, perhaps. Who is allowed to call us Satan without escalating things, perhaps calling them the Queen of the Damned, which would not go over well. One person who is allowed to see us at our most vulnerable, when a beloved dog has died, or God forbid a child. Someone who knows some of our deepest secrets. And we are open enough to let them in. We are lucky if we find one person, two, three even, in a lifetime.

And I wonder if what Jesus is saying to Peter is something like Hey, you know, have you considered lowering your standards? Because this lofty vision of intimacy…I don’t think that’s going to help people understand that this is a love mission.

Isn’t that the way it is, really? 

That we are so afraid to say we love someone that we fret over saying it too early or too easily and Jesus is watching over our shoulder and saying Yes, let’s do that! Quick to anger, slow to love? Reverse that. Come on. This is simple. It is love your neighbor, not tolerate your neighbor begrudgingly.

And in the tradition told about Peter we see him get this in the end. That he shows his courage for the sake of love rather than self-preservation. And I think that is beautiful. He famously asks to be crucified upside down so that he might kiss the feet of his lord. Isn’t that something?

I think it would have been better if he had just said he adored Jesus the first time, but that’s just me. But this is Peter’s role for us. To see what we’re supposed to see before we go to the cross. To know love. And the courage to share it, with consent. To live as close to that generous love as we can possibly get, so graceful, like schools of fish below the surface, the faraway duck calls, floating peacefully on the water, gentle waves lapping the side of the boat and maybe even reading a story of overcoming childhood trauma. But just a week ago, they were afraid. And here, this world is perfect.