Easter 3C, (RHE, in memoriam)

Easter 3C, 2019

RHE, in memoriam

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. ³¹But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. 

The end.

It’s the end of the book. It is the stated rationale behind everything that came before and everything the author hopes will come to pass.

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. ³¹But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. 

The end.

But, not. This is not, actually, the end of the story.

Because, after these things.

After all of these things.

Comes the passage we heard proclaimed today.

A postscript perhaps?

An addendum?

Words that could not be left behind, stories that insisted on being spread. After these things, Jesus showed himself again.

These signs happened and these stories were told, so that we may come to believe.

And, if that were enough, if our belief were sufficient in and of itself—then, this ending would have stood.

As enough.

But, it was not enough. Not enough, for the community of early Johannine Christians who were struggling to figure out what to do and how to live in the meantime of waiting.

Of waiting.

Of waiting. For the inbreaking of God’s love. For the return of the Christ. For the world to be utterly, and completely, transformed by a forgiveness that will leave none forsaken.

And so, new words took shape upon the page. The words we hear proclaimed today.

After these things, Jesus showed himself again…

He showed himself again, but for what purpose?

To catch some fish, to break some bread?

To be with those he loved?

To sit, once more, in the flesh, alongside those who’d walked with him and prayed with him. Those who’d laughed and wept and hoped with him. Those who’d abandoned him and those who had denied him.

To be, once more, with them.

And, in this, I hear a longing. A longing to see once more, touch once more, taste once more, the goodness of God in the here and the now. I hear a longing, to be with the ones we love, the ones we thought lost to us, and the ones we hope to see again.  This is a chapter written for those who mourn.

And, so I read it with awe realizing that the last supper, the one we have memorialized, is not the final meal.

This is. On a sandy and reedy shoreline, with the scent of fish and sweat, smoke and earth, bread is broken and it is shared. Shared, again, in remembrance. Shared again, in truth. Shared again…

In love.

In love.

Note, the refrain.

Do you love me?

They may have come to believe. But, now, they must come to love.

Do you love me?

It is Peter he asks. Peter who is put to the test. Peter, the one who denied him—not once, but three times. He is the one who is pressed, “do you love me?

Yes, Lord; you know that I love you!

Three times he is asked, just as three times he denied.

He denied, but now he confesses. He confesses his love, again, again, again. Yes, Lord; you know that I love you!

And, regardless of his sin, his love is met with love.

But, all love is not equal.

The Greek word for love that Jesus uses is agape. The word agape means an unconditional and sacrificial love. It is love freely given without any hope for gain. It is love that exists for the good of another and not the good of self.

The Greek word for love that Peter uses is striking in its difference--Peter’s love is a brotherly love, philia. The meaning of which can be summed up by the word “because”. I love you because you love me. I love you because...

And, this word, this “because” implies that there may be some conditions to this love. Conditions to love, when God loves unconditionally.

Poor Peter.

You have to feel bad for the guy, even in declaring his love, he manages to mess up once more.

And, yet, it is Peter who becomes the founder of the church. Peter, the rock upon whom the church will be built.

Peter whose love is transformed. Because, because, by the third asking it is Jesus whose language changes. In Jesus’ final repetition of his question of love, he uses the word of his friend, philia. 

Jesus meets Peter where he is.

In this place of love “because”.

Because, that love is enough for the God who loves us more.

Now, there are some who might think that this emphasis upon love is somehow lacking—devoid of conviction and reason. Love as platitude rather than purpose.

But, love is more. Love is the ground and the meaning. It is the motivator and the mover. It is the way of Jesus and it can never die.

Do you remember Paul’s words? The words of a man who’d been utterly transformed? From his letter to the Romans,

“I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

As I consider Paul’s words, I find myself mindful of Rachel Held Evans. Rachel wrote the book, Inspired, that we read for this year’s Lenten formation series. Known for her dedication to the Gospel and her capacity to reimagine and re-engage with the teaching of the Christian faith, Rachel died early Saturday morning. And so, as I consider Paul’s adamancy that NOTHING can separate us from the love of God, I find myself reflecting on Rachel’s own reflection on the nature of the love to which we, as Christians are called,

“To love as Jesus loved requires more strength and conviction than a human being without the Spirit can muster.  It requires giving without expecting anything in return, forgiving enemies, witholding judgment, assuming the position of a servant, looking after the forgotten, and caring for neighbors. It requires living counter-culturally by resisting the temptations of indulgent wealth and self-serving power. The kind of love that Jesus taught and exemplified crystallizes on the cross, where looking down on those who had put him there Jesus said, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." https://rachelheldevans.com/blog/love-is-not-weak

So, when Peter falls short, he is loved. When we fall short, we are loved.

Loved, as we are. Enough, as we are. Called, as we are.

As we are, not as we might be.

We are on a journey of becoming. And, I see in Jesus’ relationship with Peter, Jesus constantly calling Peter, to love more, live more, and to serve more.

Love more. Live more. Serve, more.

Because, rather than continuing to ask Peter to speak his love, Jesus asks Peter to show his love.

Do you love me?

Feed my sheep.

Do you love me?

Follow me.  

Follow me.

Because I know the way, and I will lead you there.

And a community that mourned was comforted. A community that hungered was fed.

This is not the last supper. This is not the last time. This is not the end of the story.

And, words will be spoken, and words will be writ.

And, bread will be broken, and meals will be shared.

And, the story will continue.

In Paul.

In Lydia.

In the Ethiopian Eunuch.

In Dorothy Day.

In Thomas Merton

In Jonathan Merrick Daniels.

In Martin Luther King Jr.

In Verna Dozier.

In Rachel Held Evans.

In the living and in the dead.

In you.

And, in me.

The story will continue.

The story will continue, not because of what we believe, but because of how we love.

Because, the question at the end of the Gospel of John isn’t about belief. It’s about love.

Do you love me?

Amen.