The Right Questions
Christ’s Charge to Peter, Raphael, c. 1516, a full-size cartoon design for a tapestry, Victoria & Albert Museum, London, Public Domain, click image to link to source.
He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep.” -John 21:17
The 21st chapter of John functions like a post-credit scene in a film. It looks like the drama of the crucifixion-resurrection story has resolved. People are walking out the theater when familiar characters reappear on the screen.
My former colleague Lew Hopfe, who baptized my children, helps us adjust our senses to the new scene. “John twenty-one shifts the focus of action from Jerusalem to Galilee. The disciples have returned to their old homes and ways of making a living …. It is as though everything which happened in Jerusalem, the death and resurrection of Jesus, has counted for nothing. Nothing has changed in the lives of the disciples. The great adventure is all over and now they go back to living the way they did in the past. They go back to fishing in Galilee. It was as if they all believed that the Jesus movement was over.”[1]
As the scene unfolds, its dramatic tension turns on the hinge of three questions.
The gospels record more than 300 questions asked by Jesus. Often, they were more than a request for information; they were a critical feature of Jesus’ teaching strategy. In conversations with friends and foes, Jesus’ questions could be annoying. “Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Arise, and take up your pallet and walk’?” “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save a life or to kill?” “Who are my mother and my brothers?” “Who do you say that I am?”
Jesus exhibits a quality similar to great philosophers: the ability to ask the right question required for a particular situation.
In the spirit of asking good questions, we might pose our own about the disjointedness we feel between this scene and the story that preceded it. Why is it that Luke’s gospel tells us the disciples remained near Jerusalem until Jesus’ ascension,[2] but in John they are in Galilee? How many days passed after the resurrection before they traveled there? Was it fear that drove them to their boats on Galilee or was it simply the need to eat and earn a living?
These questions are not answered because John is interested in other things. In particular, John wants to tell us about Peter’s relationship with Jesus. We begin to understand the focus upon this relationship when Peter comes ashore after recognizing Jesus and impetuously jumping into the sea.
When Peter wades out of the water, and trudges through the sand, he sees that Jesus has built a small charcoal fire. Why a charcoal fire? Why not driftwood?
New Testament scholars invite us to remember the last time a charcoal fire appeared in the Gospel of John. It was the text we read 17 days ago, on Maundy Thursday evening. The first Maundy Thursday, it was a cold night, and Peter stood outside the court of the high priest while Jesus’ trial took place. While he waited and warmed himself, he was asked three times about his association with Jesus. And three times he denied that he knew Jesus.[3]
At Maundy Thursday, I reminded you about Rabbi Heschel, who, when contemplating injustice perpetrated on the weak in society, said, “Some are guilty, but all are responsible.” Peter isn’t guilty, like Judas, of a pre-meditated betrayal. But in some sense his denial implicates him, too, with responsibility for Jesus’ fate.
Now, in this new morning on the beach, Peter gazes into the charcoal fire Jesus has made. It is likely that the unpleasant realization dawns on him that Jesus knows exactly what he did.
Jesus invites the disciples to breakfast. He prepares fish and bread, and serves them. How Peter must have squirmed through the meal.
After breakfast, Jesus takes Peter aside. There is no scolding, no angry tirade. Instead, Jesus asks questions. He chooses just the right questions, really ONE basic question asked three times:
·“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”
·“Simon son of John, do you love me?”
·“Simon son of John, do you love me?”
For hundreds of years, the Church has seen a perfect symmetry between Peter’s affirmations of love and his earlier denials. Peter is invited to remember the Last Supper, at which he proclaimed his loyalty to Jesus, even if others should fall away. For Peter this is a painful exercise as he confronts the memory of his unfaithfulness. The three statements of love counterbalance the three statements of denial. Jesus’ questions help Peter overcome his past mistakes, and recommit his life to following him.
Through the centuries, Jesus followers have heard in this text a challenge to examine their motives and dedication, a challenge that might be expressed in other deeply personal questions.
·Do we really believe in the presence of the God revealed in Jesus Christ, and trust in his grace and love?
·Do we really want to understand his ways, and live as his disciples?
As Jesus did for Peter, the risen Christ challenges each one of us with the question: “Do you love me?” He asks it again. “Do you love me?” One more time, and be truthful. “Do you love me?” This is one of the most basic and important questions of spiritual health. Like Peter, may we answer, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you,” and demonstrate that love as we follow him.
NOTES
[1] Lewis M. Hopfe, “Meeting the Master,” a sermon on John 21:1-17, delivered to the people of Plymouth Congregational Church, Wichita, 5 May 1991.
[2] Luke 24:49-53.
[3] John 18:15-27
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