Peter’s Dream
John 21:1-19
After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.
Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach, but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on his outer garment, for he had taken it off, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.
When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them, and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”
I can’t seem to shake the strange, dreamlike, almost surreal quality of this passage. We find ourselves, for reasons unknown, suddenly transported from the scene of the crucifixion and resurrection in Jerusalem, back to where it all started, on the sea in Galilee. Just before our passage today, Jesus has risen, and the famous doubting Thomas has confronted Jesus, demanding to feel Jesus’ scars to prove himself. Then in chapter 20, verse 30 and 31: “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may continue to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” I mean… Amen, right? It really reads like that should be the end. And yet, here we are.
It’s widely and credibly believed at this point that this chapter 21 is an epilogue of sorts, tacked on by a different author other than the author of the gospel of John years later—not only because of the clear ending in chapter 20, but also because of other stylistic and vocabulary choices that really don’t match with the rest of the gospel. And this is a very Peter-centric story. It’s Peter who decides to go fishing, it’s Peter who jumps in the water to swim to Jesus, it’s Peter who has this difficult conversation about how strong his love is for Jesus at the end of this passage. It’s likely that whoever decided to add this on had some kind of pro-Peter agenda, trying to convince people of the primacy of Peter when there was some infighting going on in these earliest days of Christianity… I don’t really buy that there should be a primacy of any of the apostles; and just because this story might have an agenda doesn’t mean there’s not something relevant and beautiful to be found here.
With this dreamlike quality this passage has, it helped me to sort of think of this as a prophetic dream that Peter may have been having. Peter, having just raced to the tomb to see it empty, having just seen the risen Christ, must have been full of so many emotions—awe, confusion, joy, naturally— but he must also have been wracked with guilt. Remember, he had just denied his association with Jesus three times before Christ’s execution.
So in this scene, reminiscent of those dreams where you’re back in high school rushing to study a for a test you forgot about, he’s back in Galilee, fishing with his friends, and not catching anything. But then, after a morning of catching nothing, Jesus appears and their nets become so full they can barely even get the fish to the shore, harkening back to chapter 6 of the gospel of John, when Jesus multiplied five loaves and two fish to feed five-thousand, a memory that surely would have been etched in Peter’s mind; and then despite the fact that they hadn’t yet made it to shore with their massive haul of fish, there is Jesus, just sitting on the shoreline, cooking a breakfast of fish and bread for his friends.
And then rather suddenly, as if in a dream, the story switches gears, and all of the disciples, except for Peter, fade into the background. “Do you love me more than these?” Who or what “these” are is as steeped in mystery as the rest of the surreal scenes in this passage, but Jesus proceeds to ask Peter two more times if he loves him.
We hear a lot about Peter in the gospels—about this fervent belief in Christ despite of a lack of understanding; we read stories about him running to the tomb, both in Luke and in John; we read about Peter a great deal at the beginning of the book of Acts, full of courage and faith, really leading the charge in the spreading of the Good News… but we don’t get a lot of insight into what he was feeling during those three days Jesus was in the grave. And I have to wonder what he was feeling when he first learned of Jesus’ grave being empty. It says specifically they while he sees the grave empty, he still doesn’t understand why or how, despite Jesus telling them time and time again that he would rise from the dead. So what did he think when he saw Jesus? No, he was no Judas, he didn’t go so far as to betray him or to actively sell him into the hands of the oppressors, but he denied him three times. He let his fear get the best of him and pretended he did not know his vulnerable and beloved savior.
And it’s written in our passage for today that when Jesus asked him the third time if he loved him that he was hurt, and in response says, “…you know everything; you know that I love you.” I read such a desperation in his voice there. I read such a sadness in his voice, yet so much hope as well—hope that Jesus will believe him even after this cowardly, but all-too-human denial. “You know everything.” “You know that I denied you. You know that I messed up. You know that I was so terrified of what I witnessed the Romans doing that I denied I even knew the person I love most. And you know that I’m hurting and aching and wrestling with this thing that I did. You know everything. And so you must know, you have to know, that despite all that, I love you.”
And he did. If he didn’t believe or know that Peter loved him, he wouldn’t have said what he says next—that Peter is still called to tend and to feed his sheep; that Peter is still called to spread the Good News of the miracle and the love of Jesus; that not only is Peter still called to continue the work of evangelizing and healing and helping; but he is now wise enough and ready enough to follow the way of Jesus he wasn’t ready for earlier. This epilogue of sorts seems to be a response to John 13 where it’s written that
…Peter said to him, “Lord, where are you going?” Jesus answered, “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, but you will follow afterward.” Peter said to him, “Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.” Jesus answered, “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.
Indeed Peter did. And yet now Christ says to him, “Follow me.” Peter is ready to lay his life down for Christ, and indeed he will.
So maybe this passage was written with an agenda. Maybe this passage was written so that people would focus on and follow whatever early Christian sects were following the words and ways of Peter above all others. But I’m not convinced. I’m not convinced by any arguments that put one apostle above another— Jesus was against earthly hierarchies, after all. What I am convinced of is the unconditional, all-consuming forgiveness of Christ. What I am convinced of is that this experience of Peter’s, whether it be a vision, a prophetic dream, or something that truly and historically happened, is that Peter must have been filled with unbelievable relief and gratitude— and that despite his grievous mistake, he had faith and hope that he would be forgiven, faith and hope that Jesus would know his love and love him back in return—and that faith and hope was indeed rewarded.
And we must have this same faith—the same faith that Jesus loves us and calls us no matter how imperfect we are. And to hear that call, we have to stand strong in that faith. We can’t be ashamed of any past actions; we can’t allow ourselves to give up when we’ve messed up, or haven’t been able to step up. We will stumble, we may deny those we love, we may let our fear get the better of us. And we will surely find ourselves too tired to attend a rally or go to church; we’ll find ourselves lacking the emotional capacity to be a good friend when we’re needed. We’ll find ourselves angry and ready to shun people for disagreeing with us. We are human. And there will be times when we fail.
But then we’ll fight through those feelings and those missteps and remember that we are still worthy. We won’t let our past mistakes define us, we won’t fall prey to self-loathing, and we will continue to dream and to listen for Jesus’ call.
At the Vermont Conference’s annual meeting this weekend, which was at Grace Congregational in Rutland, Grace’s pastor, Rev. Terry Hanley said that his refrain at his church is that we don’t pray and beg for God to be with us; rather, we pray that we are open to feeling God’s presence that is always with us. And I think one of the first steps in always feeling God’s love and call is to know that we are forgiven and we are worthy. We are separated from God’s love when we let fear take over—when we let fear of the other take over; or fear of failure. Peter remained open to that sacred call after even after all that he had done… and all that he had seen—the unjust and violent persecution and death of his savior and friend.
As I said in my note to the church this week, I had the privilege of being able to join our friend Rev. Paul Sawyer and other folks from our community up in Burlington at the rally for Mohsen Mahdawi in hopes that he would be freed from detention— hopes that were realized. He spoke a few words when he came out, and he said, to the very people, the very authorities who had him imprisoned, “I am not afraid of you.” To have that kind of courage after he had every reason to fear is truly an inspiration.
We all have plenty to fear these days, no denying that. But if we open ourselves to the presence and the call of Christ, and in turn, if we open ourselves to the support and the love of one another, we will make it. When we open ourselves, the call and the courage may come from strange or unexpected places— the comment of a passerby, an awe-inspiring moment in nature, a surreal dream that transports you someplace else…
So—may we continue to dream. May we continue to dream of a world beyond incarceration, beyond borders. May we continue to dream of a world without war and without hatred. May we continue to dream of ways to make that world a reality, may we continue to dream of a world in which everyone can feel that forgiveness and assurance and love regardless of their past, present, or future. And may we be open to Christ’s call. May we all have the courage to heed the call that says “follow me.” Amen.
