April 18, 2010
John 21.1-9
+ I just got back yesterday from the Cities, where I gave a poetry reading with Gin Templeton at True Colors Bookstore. I had a great time, but the real highlight, of course, was spending time with my best friend from high school, Greg.
As most of you know, it is a great experience having a best friend, especially one you’ve had since high school. Over those many years, your friend has seen you in your best and your worst times. Let’s face it, what’s worse than your teenage years? And of course, in a friendship, like any other relationship that lasts that long, there are high points and there are low points.
There are moments when the relationship is right on track. Everything flows. The two of you click. Then there are those moments when it all seems like an out-of-control roller coaster ride. You fight. You argue. You can’t stand the sight of the other person.
Greg and I have had both of those times. We’ve had great moments when everything is just fine (those majority of our friendship has been like that). But there were also moments when it wasn’t so great. We argued. We didn’t talk to each other (once, for six months).
And there have been other times when our friendship just has been on the back burner—when we’ve had other things that have been more important than our friendship. Greg’s marriage, his children, my priesthood were all things that, at times, have taken precedence over our friendship.
And when you know someone very well—when you know someone better than most other people—there are moments in which it isn’t that hard to hurt someone. Blatant honesty in a close friendship is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is very easy to feel betrayed or to unintentionally betray your friend with even the smallest, most innocent comment. Those are some of those lowest moments in friendship. When you know you have hurt someone you have cared for, hurts sometimes just as badly as the person who has been hurt our actions.
No doubt, the disciples in today’s Gospel reading felt somewhat the same way. For us, the Resurrection we celebrate at Easter is a time of joy. It is a time for us to truly rejoice in this experience of the risen Jesus. But for those eleven, seeing Jesus resurrected must’ve been joyful, yes, but that joy no doubt quickly gave way to shame. After all, every one of them betrayed Jesus. They turned away from him in his greatest time of need. They ran away from him like scared children and left him to face his trial, torture and murder alone.
I have been reading a wonderful book, Made for Goodness by Archbishop Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho. Tutu actually writes about this encounter of the resurrected Jesus with the eleven. He writes:
“What the disciples did not expect was to have to face the one they had betrayed in the sure knowledge that he knew of their betrayal. They had failed miserably. They must have come with more than little trepidation to their first encounter with the risen Christ.”
And probably the one who came with the most trepidation was none other than Peter. There wasn’t a greater failure than Peter. Peter didn’t just mess up once. Three times Peter betrayed Jesus. And his betrayal wasn’t just some unintentional betrayal. He publicly betrayed Jesus. He almost proclaimed his betrayal to anyone who would listen. And this was not just some simple slip of the tongue. It wasn’t something done in the heat of the moment. Peter betrayed Jesus not once. Not twice. But three times.
Probably of all the apostles, Peter’s pain over his betrayal was the worst. Certainly he was the most anxious to be a follower of Jesus, to do right by Jesus. And to turn around so completely and betray Jesus so horribly, was no doubt one of the worst times in Peter’s life.
But in those moments when we’ve felt like Peter, when we’ve been smacked low by our betrayals, there is no greater feeling than to reconcile and to be forgiven by a friend we have hurt.
And what we find today is that moment between Jesus and Peter. For each of Peter’s betrayals, he has been given a chance to make right the wrong he did. Three times, Jesus asks him, “Do you love me?” And three times Peter finally says the right thing. And three times Jesus tells him to go out and do the ministry he called Peter to do.
It’s a great lesson for those of us who have betrayed others. And it’s a great lesson for us, who, as Christians, have, at times betrayed Jesus in our spiritual lives as well. We, as Christians, often betray Jesus. Sometimes we do it with our lips, when we disparage our Christians faith or deny our faith in various ways. We betray Jesus when we act one way in church in Sundays and then act another way the rest of the week. We betray Jesus when we call ourselves Christians and then don’t act like Christians, don’t speak like Christians and don’t do the ministry of Christians. We betray Jesus as Christians when we become lazy and complacent in our faith—when we think going to church is enough, but then not living out in our lives what we are strengthened to do here in church. But more often than not we betray Jesus when we don’t follow him in all that we do. We betray Jesus when we don’t act like followers of Jesus. We betray Jesus when don’t speak like followers of Jesus. We betray Jesus when we ignore those people who need us and who need our compassion and care. And sometimes we betray Jesus when we simply don’t go out and feed Jesus’ sheep.
But the great thing about all of this is that, no matter how many times we may betray Jesus with our lips or in our actions, no matter how many times we betray Jesus by being hypocrites, Jesus always, ALWAYS, gives us an opportunity to make right the wrongs we have done. Jesus is always quick to forgive and quick to help us make right the wrongs we have done in our relationship with him and with others—and even with ourselves.
In those moments when have turned away from Jesus—when we have not tended his sheep—Jesus always offers us that question: “Do you love me?” Do you love me by following me? He asks again and again. Do you love my by loving one another? Do you love me by feeding and tending the ones I give you to feed and tend? Each time we say yes, we are making right the wrongs we have done to him and to others. Doing so only affirms that friendship we have with him and with one another. Doing so only builds all of us up and makes everything just a bit better.
So, let us be prepared to say “Yes” to Jesus when he asks us if we love him. And let that Yes be more than an affirmation of our faith. Let it also be a call to action. Let our yes to Jesus be the beginning of tending and feeding those who need us and who are calling to us for that care. When we do so, that yes of ours becomes the most joyful sound we can make during this Easter season and throughout our lives as Christians.
John 21.1-9
+ I just got back yesterday from the Cities, where I gave a poetry reading with Gin Templeton at True Colors Bookstore. I had a great time, but the real highlight, of course, was spending time with my best friend from high school, Greg.
As most of you know, it is a great experience having a best friend, especially one you’ve had since high school. Over those many years, your friend has seen you in your best and your worst times. Let’s face it, what’s worse than your teenage years? And of course, in a friendship, like any other relationship that lasts that long, there are high points and there are low points.
There are moments when the relationship is right on track. Everything flows. The two of you click. Then there are those moments when it all seems like an out-of-control roller coaster ride. You fight. You argue. You can’t stand the sight of the other person.
Greg and I have had both of those times. We’ve had great moments when everything is just fine (those majority of our friendship has been like that). But there were also moments when it wasn’t so great. We argued. We didn’t talk to each other (once, for six months).
And there have been other times when our friendship just has been on the back burner—when we’ve had other things that have been more important than our friendship. Greg’s marriage, his children, my priesthood were all things that, at times, have taken precedence over our friendship.
And when you know someone very well—when you know someone better than most other people—there are moments in which it isn’t that hard to hurt someone. Blatant honesty in a close friendship is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is very easy to feel betrayed or to unintentionally betray your friend with even the smallest, most innocent comment. Those are some of those lowest moments in friendship. When you know you have hurt someone you have cared for, hurts sometimes just as badly as the person who has been hurt our actions.
No doubt, the disciples in today’s Gospel reading felt somewhat the same way. For us, the Resurrection we celebrate at Easter is a time of joy. It is a time for us to truly rejoice in this experience of the risen Jesus. But for those eleven, seeing Jesus resurrected must’ve been joyful, yes, but that joy no doubt quickly gave way to shame. After all, every one of them betrayed Jesus. They turned away from him in his greatest time of need. They ran away from him like scared children and left him to face his trial, torture and murder alone.
I have been reading a wonderful book, Made for Goodness by Archbishop Desmond Tutu and his daughter Mpho. Tutu actually writes about this encounter of the resurrected Jesus with the eleven. He writes:
“What the disciples did not expect was to have to face the one they had betrayed in the sure knowledge that he knew of their betrayal. They had failed miserably. They must have come with more than little trepidation to their first encounter with the risen Christ.”
And probably the one who came with the most trepidation was none other than Peter. There wasn’t a greater failure than Peter. Peter didn’t just mess up once. Three times Peter betrayed Jesus. And his betrayal wasn’t just some unintentional betrayal. He publicly betrayed Jesus. He almost proclaimed his betrayal to anyone who would listen. And this was not just some simple slip of the tongue. It wasn’t something done in the heat of the moment. Peter betrayed Jesus not once. Not twice. But three times.
Probably of all the apostles, Peter’s pain over his betrayal was the worst. Certainly he was the most anxious to be a follower of Jesus, to do right by Jesus. And to turn around so completely and betray Jesus so horribly, was no doubt one of the worst times in Peter’s life.
But in those moments when we’ve felt like Peter, when we’ve been smacked low by our betrayals, there is no greater feeling than to reconcile and to be forgiven by a friend we have hurt.
And what we find today is that moment between Jesus and Peter. For each of Peter’s betrayals, he has been given a chance to make right the wrong he did. Three times, Jesus asks him, “Do you love me?” And three times Peter finally says the right thing. And three times Jesus tells him to go out and do the ministry he called Peter to do.
It’s a great lesson for those of us who have betrayed others. And it’s a great lesson for us, who, as Christians, have, at times betrayed Jesus in our spiritual lives as well. We, as Christians, often betray Jesus. Sometimes we do it with our lips, when we disparage our Christians faith or deny our faith in various ways. We betray Jesus when we act one way in church in Sundays and then act another way the rest of the week. We betray Jesus when we call ourselves Christians and then don’t act like Christians, don’t speak like Christians and don’t do the ministry of Christians. We betray Jesus as Christians when we become lazy and complacent in our faith—when we think going to church is enough, but then not living out in our lives what we are strengthened to do here in church. But more often than not we betray Jesus when we don’t follow him in all that we do. We betray Jesus when we don’t act like followers of Jesus. We betray Jesus when don’t speak like followers of Jesus. We betray Jesus when we ignore those people who need us and who need our compassion and care. And sometimes we betray Jesus when we simply don’t go out and feed Jesus’ sheep.
But the great thing about all of this is that, no matter how many times we may betray Jesus with our lips or in our actions, no matter how many times we betray Jesus by being hypocrites, Jesus always, ALWAYS, gives us an opportunity to make right the wrongs we have done. Jesus is always quick to forgive and quick to help us make right the wrongs we have done in our relationship with him and with others—and even with ourselves.
In those moments when have turned away from Jesus—when we have not tended his sheep—Jesus always offers us that question: “Do you love me?” Do you love me by following me? He asks again and again. Do you love my by loving one another? Do you love me by feeding and tending the ones I give you to feed and tend? Each time we say yes, we are making right the wrongs we have done to him and to others. Doing so only affirms that friendship we have with him and with one another. Doing so only builds all of us up and makes everything just a bit better.
So, let us be prepared to say “Yes” to Jesus when he asks us if we love him. And let that Yes be more than an affirmation of our faith. Let it also be a call to action. Let our yes to Jesus be the beginning of tending and feeding those who need us and who are calling to us for that care. When we do so, that yes of ours becomes the most joyful sound we can make during this Easter season and throughout our lives as Christians.
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