Robert Barron - Becoming a Disciple of Jesus
Peace be with you, friends. On this third Sunday of Easter, we have this magnificent gospel from the very end of the Gospel of John, chapter 21. It’s so rich theologically, and the tradition has just loved this passage, drawing out all sorts of implications. What I want to do to get at it is to focus on St. Peter. Now, St. Peter is obviously a great saint, the chief of the apostles; he’s the rock upon whom Jesus builds the Church. The cross I am wearing has St. Peter on it, and his basilica is the greatest church in the world. Millions come to venerate his tomb, so no one doubts the importance and greatness of Peter. However, there’s no question that the Gospels present Peter as a deeply ambiguous figure, which is why all of us, who are kind of shady, ambiguous figures, can learn a lot from him and from how the Lord deals with him.
First of all, Jesus must have recognized all kinds of qualities in Peter; that’s why he chose him as the chief of the apostles. He must have seen qualities of leadership and intelligence and all that. There’s no question, furthermore, that it’s his great confession, «You are the Christ, the Son of the living God,» that’s the rock upon which Jesus builds his Church. So, no one doubts the significance of Peter. But remember that scene in Caesarea Philippi right after the confession when Jesus begins talking about the cross. It’s Peter—maybe he’s sensing, «Well, this is my role now, I’m the head of the apostles.» It’s Peter who says, «Lord, heaven forbid this should ever happen to you.» Then he hears the greatest rebuke anywhere in the Bible; Jesus says, «Get thee behind me, Satan.» So, right after he’s named the rock, Jesus also recognizes this very negative quality in Peter.
Now we see exactly what it is, and in a way, it’s always the problem: it’s an aversion to the cross. So yes, he’s correctly confessed Jesus as the Lord, but he doesn’t want the cross, and that’s why Jesus calls him Satan. We see this throughout the Gospels, but the ambiguity of Peter reaches its high point in all the events surrounding the passion and death of the Lord. It’s where Peter’s compromised character becomes clearest. Where do we see it? Remember in the Gospel of John at the Last Supper when Jesus makes to wash the feet of his disciples?
We’re so used to that now, but it was shocking in his time and place. For someone recognized as a master to get down into this menial position was something you wouldn’t even ask a slave to do. Yet Jesus is doing this for his disciples. Well, that’s what the Gospel is all about, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the way of Jesus. It’s not the way of worldly triumph; it’s the way of even the most menial service and love. But who balks at it? Peter. It’s the chief of the apostles, it’s Peter the rock who says, «No, no, no, you’re not going to do that to me.»
This means that he’s resisting the way of Jesus. He confessed him correctly, but he’s not getting it. That same resistance to the cross is manifested there: «No, no, you’re not going to wash my feet.» We hear this in Luke’s Gospel, and for my money, it’s one of the most frightening lines in the whole New Testament. This is Jesus now speaking to Peter: «Simon, Simon, listen; Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat. But once you’ve turned back, strengthen your brothers.» Simon, Satan—remember Jesus said, «Get thee behind me, Satan»? Satan has demanded to sift you like wheat. What does that mean? Well, that’s that process that was common in the ancient world of separating wheat from the chaff. Remember when John the Baptist talks about the winnowing fan? Same idea: you take this rake and you’d throw the grain up in the air, and then the wind would blow, separating the wheat from the chaff—sifting, separating out. But now, it’s Satan doing the sifting. What does that mean? That means Satan is going to try to separate all that’s good in you to throw that away as though it were chaff and to keep the chaff behind it.
It’s a frightening image because we’re all ambiguous people; we all have good and bad in us. Imagine the devil now carefully separating out the good and the bad, throwing the good away, letting it blow away in the wind, so that only what’s worst in us remains. That’s what the image says. You know what does this to us often? Crisis, trial, and difficulty. Yeah, you might be going along okay, and you know you’re both good and bad, but the good is kind of winning the war. But then comes a time of trial, and then something happens where the good and bad in you get separated, and sometimes it’s the bad that remains. That’s what the Lord is saying to Peter, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen now. During the passion, they’re all going to be sifted by Satan.
Well, right after that, they come to Gethsemane. Jesus, now at this terrible moment of anguish, takes Peter, James, and John, his closest disciples, with him. He prays and sweats blood in his anguish. Peter falls asleep; not a good thing in the Bible. To fall asleep means you’re inattentive, it means you’re not up to it, it means you’re not standing a post. So what does he hear? «Simon, are you asleep? Keep awake and pray that you may not come to the trial.» Well, the same thing—that’s the trial: Satan sifting you like wheat. You see the point here: Peter’s not doing well. He’s not doing well at this moment. Then comes the worst moment of all: Jesus is arrested. Peter follows him and goes into the courtyard of the high priest’s house. He’s warming his hands by the fire; it’s a cold evening. Then the scapegoating mob begins to form. «Right, you were with Jesus!» someone says. Peter denied it. «No, no!» someone else insists. «This man, he’s one of them!»
Again, Peter denied it. I get it; this scapegoating mob is dangerous stuff. When a mob starts forming around you, they’re not going to be gentle with you. This is dangerous business. Then a third time: «Certainly, you’re one of them, for you’re a Galilean.» His accent gave him away. But he began to curse and swore an oath. Now, we think cursing is just using a bad word, but it’s much more than that here. Taking an oath, invoking God himself, he says, «I don’t know this man.» Well, everybody, Satan will sift you like wheat, you bet, separating out what’s good in you and letting what’s bad in you remain. Well, there you see it on full display. Three times, three times he denies that he even knows Jesus, even invoking God himself, taking an oath to that effect.
Peter is not in a good space. We hear it’s a beautiful detail, completely credible, that when the rooster crows, as Jesus predicted it would, Peter breaks down and weeps. His inner state at this point has been compared, I think correctly, to that of Judas, practically at the point of despair over how far he’s fallen, how effectively Satan has sifted Peter at this point. Well, that’s the image we get, everybody. As the life of Jesus comes to its high point, this is the state that Peter is in. And you know St. Peter symbolizes the church, so all of us members of the mystical body are meant to kind of move into this space.
Okay, with all that in mind, let’s cut to the chase now of this Gospel from John: the Lord has risen from the dead. Peter indeed ran to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning to see, but now they’re fishing in the Sea of Tiberias; they’re back in their home country. He’s in the boat; Peter is with these seven others. «I’m going fishing.» «We’ll come with you.» Well, this is the church, right? Whenever you have Peter in the boat with the other apostles, it’s an image of the church. They fish and fish all night, catch nothing. Morning comes and they spy this figure on the shore. He tells them to put the net on the other side. «Oh, we’ve been trying all night,» but they do it, and of course, they bring in this miraculous draught of 153 large fish, at which point John, as he usually does, intuitively says, «It’s the Lord.»
But here’s what I want you to see: at this point, there’s a really curious detail, and they’re fishing. So I know they’re not going to be wearing their formal clothes, but it says that Peter threw on some clothes because he was naked. Our translation, rather demurely, says he was lightly clad, but that’s not right. The Greek term is «gimnos»; here, «gimnos» means naked. That’s why a gymnasium, a place where you would exercise naked, is called a gymnasium. So Peter is «gimnos»; he’s naked, and hearing is the Lord, he throws on clothes.
Now, who does that remind you of? Go right back to the beginning of the Bible: Adam, before the fall, is unselfconsciously naked right in the presence of the Lord. Why does he hide himself after he sinned? In his shame, he says, «Oh, I hid myself; I heard you coming.» Well, who told you you were naked? You must have eaten from that tree. Here’s Peter now; he stands for all of us sinners, all of us who get sifted by Satan. He’s ashamed—ashamed to be in the presence of the Lord. That’s why he throws on clothes when he comes to the shore. Jesus prepares breakfast for them and then engages in some very important spiritual direction, spiritual formation. Listen, he takes Peter aside. «Simon,» again he calls him; that’s beautiful; that’s his original name. «Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?» «Yes, Lord; you know I love you.» «Feed my lambs.»
Then, with slight variations, Jesus asks that same question: «Simon, do you love me?» «Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.» «Feed my sheep.» «Simon, do you love me?» «Lord, of course, I love you. Feed my lambs.» Now, as St. Augustine said long ago, and every single Christian preacher, including me, has repeated: three denials have to be countered by three affirmations. And what’s the implication of the affirmation, «Lord, I love you»? What does it mean to love Jesus? «Feed my lambs. Feed my sheep. Feed my lambs.»
See, to walk the way of Jesus is to walk the way of washing the feet. It means embracing the cross of self-denial and love for the other. It’s as simple and as spiritually complex as that. Do you love me? And Peter is forced to say three times, «Yes, yes, yes.» «Well then, feed my sheep.» And then this line, which I think sums up Christian spirituality: «If you want…» Jesus says, «Amen, amen, I say to you.» In other words, pay attention; this is important. «When you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.»
Now we hear that he’s speaking of the death that Peter would die, his arms stretched out upside down on the cross in Rome. But think of this more generally, everyone; when you’re young, full of yourself, full of ego, you dress yourself, go where you want to go. «It’s my life; don’t tell me what to do.» That’s kid stuff. See, when you’re young, that’s kid stuff spiritually speaking. But when you’re older, that means you’ve come to spiritual maturity. You let go of those childish games, and you allow someone else to dress you—that means the Holy Spirit—and take you where your ego doesn’t want to go.
Well, that’s what the Spirit typically does because the Spirit’s leading you to greater love. To greater love. To greater love. «Feed my lambs. Feed my sheep. Feed my lambs.» See, we’re all meant to identify here with Peter. We’ve all been sifted by Satan. We’re all ambiguous characters. We need to say again and again and again, «Lord, I love you. Lord, I love you. Lord, I love you.» And then be willing to feed his sheep. That’s how we become his disciples. And God bless you.