I want to pay tribute to a recently deceased man. I didn’t know him well, he was an inmate at the Federal Prison outside Fort Worth, Texas. On Holy Thursday two of us Dominicans went to the prison to celebrate the evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper. As we approached the prison we saw the flashing lights of a fire engine, ambulance and police car. We were told an inmate collapsed and, since he was Catholic, we were asked if we would say a prayer for him when they brought him out. After a 20-minute wait they brought a man out on a gurney surrounded by emergency medics frantically working to revive him. I’ll call him “Peter” (in light of today’s gospel story). We said a prayer for Peter as we rushed alongside the gurney towards the waiting ambulance. Then they took Peter away. The medics said he was probably already dead, but they had to try to revive him anyway — “just in case.”
The risen Jesus told Peter, “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.” St. John says that Jesus “said this to signify by what kind of death he would glorify God.”
I hope I am not stretching this too much, but what Jesus said to Peter was also true, though in a different way, for Peter the inmate. His hands weren’t bound as the apostle’s hands were because he professed being a Christian. Not at first. This Peter was bound with handcuffs, judged and sentenced to the Federal prison, presumably for a crime he committed. (There have been enough stories recently of unjustly convicted people who spent decades in prison. But that’s another story.)
The man we came to know must have changed after he was taken to prison. He was always at Mass and, I’m told, frequently received the Sacrament of Reconciliation. He also sang in the tiny choir, always sitting at the end of the row next to a long, flowing banner of the Virgin and Child. As another inmate said, “Peter always sat next to Jesus and Mary at Mass.”
We don’t know much about the apostle Peter’s background. We know he fished and had a family. He also deserted Jesus at a critical time. We don’t know what the inmate Peter’s background was either. I’m told he was a professional man who spoke a couple languages. But despite their sins and faults, both Peters were led to new life through their faith in Jesus.
Peter the apostle accepted Jesus’s invitation to leave all and follow him. He did that for a while but, just when Jesus needed him the most, he denied him. Still, in today’s post-resurrection scene, Jesus extended forgiveness to Peter for his triple denial by giving him a triple chance to recommit, to start again. “Follow me.”
Peter, the inmate, after entering prison also heard the risen Christ offer forgiveness and a renewed invitation, “Follow me.” Judging from the reaction of the other inmates to his death, Peter had accepted Jesus’ forgiveness and the offer to start again which he did, in of all places, a federal prison!
All of us fit somewhere between the faith experiences of the two Peters. We weren’t with Jesus’ original followers and most of us are not trying to be good Christians in prison. Still, we learn from our two witnesses today not to be defeated by our past offenses and mistakes and to receive the forgiveness Jesus offers us again at this Eucharist. Then we hear Jesus re-issuing his invitation to us, “Follow me.” Strengthened by God’s Word and the body and blood of the risen Christ, we say our “Yes” again to following the Lord and being his disciples. Using the metaphor of today’s reading; we will follow him to the fishing places he has chosen for us where, in his name, we will cast our nets.
It is hard to celebrate the joy of this season punctuated as it is by terrorist attacks and mass killings. What craziness! Still, we celebrate the resurrection of the One who affirms for us that our God has walked our streets, confronted our dangers and suffered our deaths. His resurrection assures us that life can come out of death and good can overcome evil. It doesn’t seem that way these days. Fear and retaliation distract us and those running for political office encourage “carpet bombings,” cordoning off segments of our population, political fundamentalism and appeals to extreme individualism — we are harangued by unyielding ideologues.
After a tragedy, such as the one in Brussels, there is a strong response of self-sacrifice and compassion to aid victims and the surrounding population affected by the violence. But with the passage of time we go back to where we were before the crisis, preoccupied by our lives and our immediate concerns.
That’s what the disciples did at the beginning of our story. Peter and the others were ready to put the tragic events of the past days behind them and return home to what they did before they met Jesus. But Jesus won’t let go of them. He comes to the shore fishing for them. He gets their attention, as he did when he first called them, with a large catch of fish. He prepares breakfast for them and invites them to eat, “Come, have breakfast.” It is reminiscent of the Eucharist, a meal for his disciples at the break of a new day.
Then Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” Peter answers, “Yes.” Jesus tells him to care for his people, his lambs and sheep. Maybe we are tempted to withdraw, as the disciples did, from the harshness of our world and find a safe enclave among family, friends and familiars. But Jesus won’t let us. He comes looking for us, asking us to show our love for him by caring for the vulnerable, forgotten and outcast. He says again to us what he said to Peter and the disciples, “Feed my sheep.”
The question for us is: Who are the sheep Jesus is sending us to feed and care for? They might not be very far away, in the next room, at school, work, across the street, or the other side of town. Our prayer response at this Eucharist could be, “Here I am the Lord, ready to do your will.” Then, we listen to his response and go
where he is sending us to feed his sheep.