When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter,
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” (John 21:15)

 

Some call this Scripture passage an epilogue to the Gospel according to Saint John.   Don’t be fooled; this encounter with the Resurrected Lord is as much a part of the Gospel as any of it.  It captures the mood and the dilemma of the Church and of all the followers of Christ in the days immediately after His Resurrection and today.  Is that all there is to Easter?  Just what do you do after Easter anyway?  And Simon Peter said, “I’m going fishing.”

 

How are we to understand the collapse in attendance at church between Easter and Mercy Sunday?  Shall we simply attribute it to the “shallow and fickle church-goer?”  Treat it as a documentary on human sins, and trudge on our way as best we can?  I think some reason for it lies in the rhythm of our lives.  Life, as we all know, moves in a kind of rhythm between expansion, new adventure, and excitement on the one hand, and rest, contentment, and reflection on the other.  It is not realistic to expect high enthusiasm all the time.  Unless, of course, you’re afraid if you do pause and reflect, you will discover there was nothing to the enthusiasm in the first place.  This may explain why some people (and some churches) try to stay noisily enthusiastic all the time in order to make their empty house or worship center sound occupied.

 

It reminds me of skipping rocks.  How many hops can you make?  If the rock has the right shape and momentum it might skip all the way across the pond to the opposite side.  But if it ever slowed down it would sink, yes, “like a stone.”  Some churches keep the ministers busy manufacturing momentum and enthusiasm.  The plain fact is life is not one long ecstasy or a repeat of ecstatic moments such as that very first Easter.  On that day, for the very first time, lips formed the message:

 

JESUS CHRIST IS RISEN TODAY, HALLELUJAH!

 

Anxious women running, an appearance to Simon Peter and to James and to the Twelve and to above five hundred brethren at once, and then what comes?  Is that all there is to Easter?

 

WHAT DO WE DO AFTER EASTER?

 

Saint John, of all the Gospel writers, was most aware of the problems created by Easter.  You see Easter is the Resurrection of Christ to be sure.  No one denies that.  But St. John understood, more than any other writer, that Easter is also the public ministry of Christ.  The Gospel of John consists of twenty-one chapters.  Our Savior’s public ministry ends at Chapter 12.  And what is the rest but farewell:  a farewell meal, farewell speeches, a farewell prayer, and then the farewell.  The pathos in this portion of material is deep and real:

 

Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me.

In My Father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? (John 14:1-2)

 

[Note:  I substituted mansions for rooms.  I know that may be wishful thinking, but I choose to hope that Heaven is more than a boarding house.]

 

What is Our Lord talking about?  The disciples are like children sitting on the floor playing with their toys when suddenly they look up to discover that Mom and Dad are putting on coats and hats.  The questions are always three and they’re always the same:  Where are you going?  Can we go?  Well, who will stay with us?

 

Where am I going?  I’m going to my Father and your Father, to My God and your God. (John 20:17)

Can we go?

I'm going away, and you'll look for Me…You can't go where I'm going. (John 8:21)

Then who will stay with us?

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. After a little while the world will no longer see Me, but you will see Me; because I live, you will live also. (John 14:18)

 

What do you do after Easter?  Simon Peter and six others went fishing.  Easter was over.  The whole life with Jesus of Nazareth seemed to be over.  And it seems the fear of the Jews was over as was life behind locked doors in the Upper Room.  After all life must go on, right?  It was beautiful while it lasted.

 

In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.

 

It was wonderful to be sure, but you can’t squeeze a lifetime out of one moment.  “I’m going fishing.”  And while they fished Christ appeared.  And after breakfast he looked at Simon and said,

 

Simon, do you love Me?

 

Simon Peter must have been embarrassed and uncomfortable.  The question makes me uncomfortable, doesn’t it you?  Maybe if Our Savior could rephrase the question, say, “Are we good friends?” Or in contemporary parlance: “We okay?” We can answer that without mentioning anything…embarrassing or painful, right?  We’re good friends, yes, “we’re okay,” yes, but I don’t like questions to be too certain, too absolute, too clear-cut, too either-or.  Those bother me.  They remind me of all those people who have certain answers to everything.

 

As a boy I went out to tent revivals.  The traveling evangelist would scare the “h” out of you, and then ask a question like this:

 

Do you love Me?  Yes or No?

 

I really think that I am intimidated by this question.  Maybe we should circle our chairs, invite the other six disciples to join in and have a group discussion.  John is here, he’s here, the one that You love, what about him?  Why do you just pick on me all the time?  I feel too much pressure here really to be enjoying this experience.  In fact, I don’t think You’ve asked me the right question.  What difference does it make whether or not I love You?  That’s not the important thing.  Faith has its own objective reality and we shouldn’t go around talking about how we feel.  We should just present he message as it is in and of itself.  Ask me another question that is more appropriate to the three years of learning that I’ve had with You, Master.  None of those old questions that make a person feel guilty.  Ask me about social justice, equality and feeding the poor, sexism, racism, materialism, worldliness.  I like essay questions.

 

It is the right question.  Simon Peter knows it, and we sense it down deep.  What is to prevent us being arrogant when we’re successful in our ambitions if we have not really answered this question?

 

The Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen wrote something powerful about Judas, ambition and avarice:

 

To use a man for what he is naturally best fitted is to keep him, if one can, from apostasy and dissatisfaction. At the same time, life’s temptations come most often from that for which one has the greatest aptitude. There must also be an inward failure before there can be an outward one. The only failure noted in Judas, as far as the records are concerned, was the sin of avarice. In him this was a kind of a root sin, for out of it, as from a dirty fountain, poured the sin, so great that it were:

 

  Better for that man if he had never been born.

Matthew 26:24

(Life of Christ, 302)

 

I believe at heart Judas, the priest, the Apostle, abandoned Christ because of the Eucharist. This is the only real reason a priest leaves; he no longer believes in the Real Presence. When a priest goes through the motions without faith, he’s finished, and he knows it. This is what happened to Judas, and apparently, to many who abandoned Jesus over His saying that His Body is real Food and His Blood real drink, that you have no life without Me, the Eucharist. It’s true then and today. The crisis of unbelief in the Church is a crisis of the Eucharist.

 

What is to prevent us being depressed at failure if we have not clearly faced up to this question?  In the final analysis it is the quality, no, the intimacy of our relationship with Jesus Christ that will make all of the difference in our lives.

 

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.  Tend My sheep. Feed My sheep.  Follow Me. (John 21:15-19)

 

This assignment translates Easter into Life, and Resurrection Morning is made meaningful every morning.  We can’t get too sentimental about this.  It’s a tough assignment.  To tend lambs is to face the fact that some are going to stay lambs for forty years and never become sheep.  Feed my sheep; not simple at all.  Some of them refuse to eat.  Now what are we going to do?

 

Feed My lambs.  Tend My sheep. Feed My sheep.  Follow Me.

AMEN

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