Acts 9:1-6; Psalm 30; Revelations 5:11-14; John 21:1-19
The Rev. Drew Brislin
I have fond memories of fishing throughout the years. When I was a child, I would get up before daylight and head for some slough off the Alabama River with my dad and grandfather. Places with names like Bogue Chitto Creek, Little Miami, and Gee’s Bend sit snugly nestled in my memories.
A little later, during my early teen years, a friend and I would ride our bikes along the railroad tracks to Walter Craig, a local sporting goods store in Selma. There, we would spend our allowance on some new lure or lures—maybe a flashy spinnerbait, some beetle spins, or another gimmicky tackle. Then we’d head out to a private pond where my friend’s dad was a member and try our luck at bass or crappie or whatever might bite.
Later, as a young adult, a friend with a house on the coast and I would head to the Gulf to try our luck at mackerel, snapper, or anything that would take hold of our bait. Whatever we were fishing for, one thing remained constant: the bigger the fish, the more complex the equipment and tackle required. But regardless of the target or the tools, a good time was always had. To paraphrase, my worst day fishing was better than most days doing anything else.
Over the last three weeks, our lessons have taken us from the empty tomb to a fishing excursion on the Sea of Tiberias. The disciples have experienced a lot in just a few days: the emotional high of entering Jerusalem, the dramatic events in the temple, and a meal unlike any other. I can only imagine the intensity of the Garden of Gethsemane as Jesus prayed for the cup to pass from him, followed by the unexpected betrayal, the armed arrest, the denials, the mock trial, the jeering mob, and the bloody execution of their friend and teacher. They have experienced the empty tomb and Jesus’ appearing, disappearing and reappearing. They had to be crushed—mentally and physically exhausted by it all.
So what does Peter decide to do? He says he’s going fishing, and a rather large group decides to join him. Often, when we find ourselves in stressful moments or in states of high anxiety, we respond by returning to what we know. This part of our Gospel reading has the feel of the disciples being pushed to their limits. Peter sounds desperate for direction and guidance, and he seemingly reverts to his previous vocation. Finding outlets for our frustrations can be useful. I love to fish, and though I haven’t had the opportunity to do it much in recent years, I can understand why Peter would return to something familiar.
What can we draw from this sabbatical-like fishing trip the disciples embark on? From the outset, Peter is portrayed as the leader of this small band of disciples in the wake of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. He always seems busy, moving from one task to another. It’s no wonder he doesn’t recognize Jesus on the shore. It’s no wonder Peter needs someone like John—also known as the Beloved Disciple—someone with a more contemplative approach, to help him see the Divine in the everyday.
I’m sure some of you, like me, have been watching the news from the Vatican over the last couple of weeks following Pope Francis’ death and funeral, and the approaching Papal Conclave. The word pope comes from the Greek papas, which means “father.” This idea of the pope as a father was applied to Peter by early church fathers. Subsequently, the pope has come to embody Peter’s role for the Roman Catholic Church—and arguably for others across various denominations. As Peter’s representative, the pope leads the Church as the chief fisher of men. But this responsibility is not the pope’s alone. It also falls on the whole Church.
We Episcopalians, commissioned by Jesus in our own particular way, are likewise called to be fishers of people—to embody Jesus’ call to Peter in our own lives. This morning, you and I get to participate in that calling. In just a few minutes, we will welcome young Frank Dobson into the Church through the Holy Sacrament of Baptism. I feel blessed to be preaching this morning as I recall first meeting him. I had come to the hospital to visit a parishioner. When the elevator doors opened, I saw Stacia and Dennis in the lobby and experienced one of those “God winks”—the sense of being in the right place at the right time. After hearing the news of Frank’s arrival, I got to meet him as he said hello to his family. It is a memory I will always cherish. Today, not only do we welcome Frank into our family, but we also receive a renewed charge—to support his family and godparents as they raise him to one day take on the role of a fisher as well.
The Gospel reading this morning concludes with: the moment when Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” three times. Each time, Peter replies, “Lord, you know that I do,” and Jesus responds, “Feed my sheep.” This exchange seems to be, at least for many theologians, Jesus reconciling Peter in the wake of his earlier denial. Or perhaps it’s a reminder that in the midst of our busy lives—in the daily grind—we are called to be like Peter: pope-like figures charged with feeding Jesus’ sheep.
We are all to be as Francis once urged priests to be shepherds who “smell like the sheep”—that is, people grounded in the lives of their communities. He said that priests should be people capable of living, laughing, and crying with their people—people who communicate. But this priesthood is not reserved for the ordained. All baptized Christians are members of a royal priesthood, called to the mission of the Church: to work toward the restoration of all people to unity with God and one another in Christ.
So what does this priesthood look like for you and me?
My fishing skills as a child with my dad and grandfather were much different from those I developed as a young adult out on the Gulf. But those early experiences were necessary building blocks. The story of Jesus is not just a story of the past. We are who we are today because of our successes—and, perhaps more importantly, our failures. In those moments of failure, we often discover liberating grace. That grace propels us toward healing and wholeness—and into the kind of leadership and service Jesus calls us to join. How is Jesus calling you in your particular way to be with and to feed his sheep?
Amen