“He said to him a third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me?’ It made Peter’s heart ache that he said to him for the third time do you love me. And he said in response, ‘Lord, you know everything; so, you know I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my flock'” (John 21.17).
Peter’s a loyal guy. He’s the one you don’t worry about; because, he’s got your back. He’s who you take along to talk to the neighbor who likes revving up his glasspacks at two am. Got a piano you need to load on the moving truck, Peter’s your guy.
It’s this vision of himself that’s what has thrown Peter. He didn’t boast about going to death with Jesus out of hyperbole or some macho ego trip, he meant it. That’s who he is. Hey man, I’m right there with you. I ain’t gonna let you face that by yourself.
And what happened? He did just what Jesus said he’d do. He thought about himself, his family and how big this situation was, and then he lied with Jesus in earshot before taking off running. That’s not who he thought he was. And he’s been dreading this conversation.
Jesus was an even-keeled guy. Sure, they’d all seen him lose his cool with the political and religious leadership. They’d stood there with their mouths and eyes wide when he went tossing tables. But Jesus wasn’t a person who lost it easily. That probably made the anticipation of this conversation worse: sometimes, we just want someone to holler at us, tell us how bad we fouled up.
With breakfast eaten and everyone lying back on the beach beneath the warm sun, Jesus turns to Peter and asks the strangest thing: do you love me more the rest of these guys do? Peter’s anxious enough about this conversation that he probably doesn’t give it a moment’s thought; because, if he had he might have wondered if this was a trick question. His answer, however, is immediate and sincere. Of course I do.
Well, then feed my lambs. Now, do you love me?
Yeah, of course.
Tend my sheep. Peter, do you love me?
Peter has no idea where this is going. What’s Jesus looking for? Does he think Peter’s not being honest? Is there something Jesus hinted at long ago that’s the right answer? It’s no wonder he throws his hands up. Man, you know everything. You know I’m being straight with you. I love you. What is it you want from me?
I’m with Peter here. Imagine someone you love asking you again and again, even after you’ve said yes, if you love them. It’d make me feel distrusted and hurt. It would break my heart and it would make me angry. Do they think I’m lying? Is this a game, a manipulative ploy?
Jesus wasn’t manipulative, just the opposite. Tempted with it, he’d refused to use food or spectacle or power to coerce people into a relationship with him. What was this all about? Because asking this over and over seems like a way to tear someone down.
Unless it was about building them back up.
Peter, as we noted at the outset, is loyal. He’s struggled, he is struggling with what he’s done. He’s not the person he thought he was. And if he’s not the sort of person who’ll stand with his friend even in the face of death, then what else is has he been wrong about himself? Is he the man he thought he was?
Jesus knows this. You travel and eat and camp out with someone for months, you know them. You understand the kind of person they are, and who they hope that they can be. And he also knows that he needs Peter. He knows this odd gang of disciples needs him.
But how does questioning someone’s love accomplish anything? Because, it’s not really about love. At least, not how Peter understands it.
There’s a slight variation in Jesus’ responses, but he keeps saying the same thing: tend my flock. My flock: the ones who know my voice and respond to it. The ones I’m responsible for nurturing. The same sheep that I’m entrusting you to care for.
See, for Peter, this question about love was no different than loyalty. He hears Jesus’ questions as a test, an assessment if Peter’s really loyal, if he’s really with Jesus. So when the question keeps coming, for him it’s an indictment. It’s a reminder that no matter what he feels, he failed in his loyalty, which means he failed to love.
Jesus is trying to break him out of this line of thinking, one that I can be guilty of as well. I failed. I messed up. I didn’t live up to my own expectations about myself. I’m as useful as a screwdriver when everything needs an Allen wrench. I should, like Peter, hop off the boat and start swimming as far away as I can.
In response after response, though, Jesus said to Peter and is saying to me, and any of us really, that it’s not about mistakes. It’s not about the past. Sure, we may not have lived up to our ideals and best nature. Yeah, maybe when the moment of decision came, we crumbled and ran off into the darkness. But that’s not what matters.
What matters, Jesus is saying, is what comes now. Do you love me? Do you still want to stick with me, see this project through? Then come on, and let’s get to work. There are lambs and sheep out there who are in need of our care. There’s a whole world that needs to understand that there’s a better way. A way that’s more concerned with tomorrow than yesterday, with who we can be than who we think we may be.
A way that says, you know I love you.
Beloved one, help us live into who we can be; so that this world might come to know and love you as we do.