Peter, Paul, and Us- A Sermon

Sermon for Sunday, April 18, 2010.

Peter, Paul, and Us

John 21:1-19, Acts 9:1-9

I don’t often remember my dreams. I seldom dream things worth remembering and never dream things worth mentioning in sermons. But I had a dream this week which I think has some bearing on one of our texts this morning. It was, perhaps, inspired by the text.

I do not remember all of the dream. But I remember the cats. And the dogs. It seems there was a family gathering of some kind joined with some other people and everyone seemed to have cats and dogs. I was given a kitten as a gift.

Now it is true that my family enjoys their animals. Everyone has cats and three of the four of us have at least one dog. Our family has but one dog and one cat which really makes us amateurs by Hawley family standards.

But back to the dream. Lots of cats and dogs. And, for some reason, in my dream, I felt responsible for taking care of them all. The image I remember vividly is opening the door to see a multitude of cats and dogs all wanting to come in, all needing something. I felt overwhelmed.

Now the reason I think this dream matters is because of Jesus’ statement to Peter about feeding his sheep. It is commonly understood that chapter 21 of John was not a part of the original gospel. It was added at some later time and, based upon its content, seems to have two purposes. One purpose is to clarify some later opinion concerning the disciple whom Jesus loved. That is not our concern this morning so we will bracket that concern. What is more to the point this morning is the rehabilitation of Peter’s image. Peter was a crucial leadership figure in the early church and there were no doubt detractors who preferred another’s leadership instead. It was Peter, after all, who denied Jesus three times. It is hard to get a job in the Church with that on your record. But John 21 sets everything right. Peter confesses his love three times—one for each denial—and is given his marching orders from Jesus. Feed my sheep. And that is what I think my dream was about. Feeding the sheep, and how hard it is to do that sometimes.

Remember Michael Dukakis? He was Governor of Massachusetts and the Democratic candidate for President in the year that George H. W. Bush was elected president. I remember Michael Dukakis because I remember the moment I decided not to vote for him. It was during a televised debate, something I ordinarily do not watch. Dukakis was opposed to capital punishment and the moderator of the debate, Bernard Shaw of CNN, asked the governor this question: If your wife were brutally attacked and murdered, would you favor the death penalty for her assailant? Dukakis’ answer was offered in a reasoned, level-headed, dispassionate way: “Why, no. I would not.” I do not remember what he said after that because I stopped listening.

I thought, "you lying fox." You see, I also oppose capital punishment. But if someone brutally murdered my wife I would truthfully want to remove their head with a spade. Which, I would argue, is why we need laws. We need laws to govern us from our passions. We need laws established in non-stressful times to guide our paths in the stressful times. It is understandable and permissible to feel certain ways. It is not always right to act based upon our feelings alone.

So when Jesus says “feed my sheep” we can certainly understand his concern. There are many sheep and they do need tending. But we must avoid the Michael Dukakis approach to this text. That approach would be to quietly, rationally agree and imply that nothing less is acceptable. But this is dishonest. Because there are times when we are worn out, exhausted, waiting to find out when it is our turn to be fed for a change.

My dream and this text are the tributaries that flow from my life circumstance right now. My mother will have knee surgery in ten days. My father will be admitted to the Presbyterian Manor in Lawrence. Mom cannot walk and Dad cannot understand all that is happening to him and around him. My brother and his wife are exhausted from all of the wonderful but difficult work they have been doing to assist my parents. My other brother and sister are exhausted from worry and tormented by academic schedules and responsibilities that make their participation in these events difficult. Amy and I are exhausted from living somewhere in between—somewhat helpful in Lawrence but also concerned that with all of our obligations it is hard to be more supportive.

And you know my point is not to focus on my particular condition. It is simply the condition about which I am most familiar. But I know many of you are also tired, exhausted, spent from the ways in which you are feeding the sheep in your lives.

This week at the Presbyterian Women Circle meetings we considered the next to last lesson on the book of Joshua. It concerned rest. Where to we find rest? For Joshua rest meant no one was attacking at the moment. Maybe many of us can relate to that. The author of the study also wanted to draw in Hebrews wherein rest is associated with the Sabbath. God rested on the seventh day and so shall we. And, naturally, there is the rest that comes at the end of our days. Our rest in the arms of God.

Where do we find our rest? But, what may be more on our minds, are we entitled to any? Jesus is full of mixed messages. Be perfect, he says, as your Father in heaven is perfect. If you do not feed, cloth, visit, water the poor then you will be cast into the outer darkness. If you love me, feed my sheep.

But Jesus also says do not worry. Jesus says that he loves us and we are to love one another. Jesus says God sent the Son into the world for salvation and not condemnation. And in the same gospel wherein Jesus says be perfect, he invites all who are weary and carry a heavy burden to come to him, for he will give them rest.

The companion piece to this morning’s John reading is the conversion of Paul by a vision of Jesus. Like Peter, Paul had issues. Principally his resume was full of church persecution. He was a Pharisee---a perfect one it appears---who had it in for this new sect of Judaism which followed the peasant Messiah Jesus. But when the peasant turned radiant king addressed Paul from the sky, Paul changed his mind and his ways and became the Church’s first great international ambassador.

But he didn’t change completely. Sometimes Paul can be as demanding in grace as he was in the law. He can be manipulative as when he coerces money out of the Macedonians for the church in Jerusalem. He can be judgmental, as when he orders a man thrown out of the church for sexual misbehavior. In short, he can be as much of a mess as Peter or you and I.

But why should Peter and Paul be any different from, say, Abraham who fathered a child with his wife’s maid (his wife told him to do it) and then cast her and her son out (again, his wife and God told him to do it—but still….) Or Jacob who stole his brother’s blessing with the help of their mother. Or David who fathered Solomon with another man’s wife and then tried to have that man killed. Or Solomon who made his own people slaves. Well, you get the point. God, for God’s own reasons, chooses over and over again to work out his purpose with a rag-tag group of folks who are far from perfect, far from entirely committed, far from saintly.

So if we are inclined to say, as I am from time to time, that I am not fit for the Kingdom of Heaven because I just don’t have the energy for it right now, then we are in good company. Jesus asked Peter if he loved him. Peter said yes. We have no reason to believe Peter lied. Then Jesus said, feed my sheep. Did he mean that very moment? Drop everything and go? Probably not. After all, think about the setting for this conversation. A breakfast which Jesus prepared. Not only has Jesus fried the fish, but Jesus made the catch possible. Jesus, in essence, feeds his sheep before he asks anyone else to feed anyone else’s sheep. And that is the part of the story we do not always remember. We hear “feed my sheep” as a command. And perhaps it is. But the command is never the first thing. Nor is it the last thing. It is the middle thing. What comes first is the love and sustenance which Jesus offers. The last thing is the assurance of everlasting life. What happens in the middle are our best efforts to balance the demands in our life—to offer assistance and aid where we are able—and to remember that we, too, are deserving of care and compassion.

I do not travel much anymore, if I can help it. But I remember what the flight attendants say before every take off. If the oxygen masks should be required, secure your own mask first. Then help those who need assistance. Jesus cooked the fish and fed his own. He then sent his own into the world. Come to me, Jesus said, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. When we feel overly burdened by the world and our lives, we should not think of Jesus’ words as piling on. Rather, they are grace. They remind us that we, too, are among the sheep to be fed. And our families—our parents, our children—are among the sheep we are ask to feed. And the Lord is the shepherd of us all, and we shall not want.