Modern pilgrims in Israel can quickly sense the contrast between the dry, dusty desert of Judea, where Jerusalem is, and the relatively lush, green of Galilee, where today’s Gospel story [John 21:1-19] is set. Renewed annually by winter’s life-giving rains, the land around the large lake the Gospel calls the Sea of Tiberias (more commonly called the Sea of Galilee) is at its lushest and greenest in spring. And so, it was to that place at this season of the year, that Peter and six other disciples returned. It had been from those familiar shores that Jesus had originally called them to follow him. Now they’d come home – back to what they knew best. They went fishing.
But this was to be no normal fishing expedition!
There’s a lovely little church on the shore that marks the supposed site of this event. In front of the altar is a rock, traditionally venerated as the stone on which the risen Lord served his disciples a breakfast of bread and fish. Staples of the Galilean diet, bread and fish seem to be staples of the Gospel story itself! Just a short walk away is another church, marking the site where Jesus had (not so long before) fed 5000+ people with five loaves and a few fish. Presumably, the disciples would have well remembered that earlier meal. Surely we should as well, as we also assemble here at the table lovingly set for us by the risen Lord himself. Here, in this church, as surely as on that distant lakeshore, he feeds us with food we would never have gotten on our own. Here too he challenges us, as he challenged Peter, with the question: do you love me?
Peter was asked this critical question three times – obviously in reparation, so to speak, for the three times Peter had earlier denied Jesus, his triple profession of love replacing his triple denial.
Following Jesus and Peter as they walk along the shore, listening in on their conversation, we discover that what started out as a fishing story has now turned into a shepherding story.
As apostles, Peter (and his fellow disciples) have been sent by Jesus to cast their nets and draw people into the Church, which will continue the mission of the risen Lord in the world. But, within the Church, Peter is called to be Shepherd. Others will share in shepherding the flock, but Peter is particularly and singularly called to follow Jesus as the Church’s shepherd. Hence, the church that marks the supposed site of this story is called “The Church of the Primacy of Peter.”
What an apt image for us to reflect upon today, as the Church ends its nine days of mourning for Pope Francis, and the Cardinals prepare to enter on Wednesday into the conclave that will elect a new chief shepherd for the Church.
Proclaiming the primacy of Peter and his successors, the Second Vatican Council declared that, in order that the Bishops “might be one and undivided,” Christ “put Peter at the head of the other apostles, and in him he set up a lasting and visible source and foundation of the unity both of faith and of communion.”
In 1782, after the Austrian Emperor Joseph II had suppressed over 500 monasteries as part of the Enlightenment’s assertion of the State’s power over the Church, Pope Pius VI traveled personally to Vienna to try to negotiate with Joseph. The Kaiser (who not only thought there were too many monasteries, but also – at least according to legend – famously told Mozart his music had too many notes) conceded nothing, but the papal visit occasioned an enthusiastic reception by cheering crowds, demonstrating an unexpected depth of popular feeling for the Pope. An analogous occasion of imperial chagrin occurred in 1804, when comparably enthusiastic crowds turned out to greet Pope Pius VII as he made his way to Paris for Napoleon’s coronation. Despite despotic political policies that attempted to diminish the power of the Church, a vibrant grass-roots Catholicism demonstrated its popular strength and the people’s respect and reverence for the office and person of the Pope. If anything, the Pope’s position at the heart of Catholic life may be even more central today.
So, whoever appears on the loggia of Saint Peter’s as our next Pope, he will stand on a stage of uniquely universal prominence, from which he will be expected to shepherd the Church and advance her mission of following Jesus in a contentious and cacophonous world, which is so often at odds with that mission.
Typically, in these gospel stories of the risen Lord’s appearances to his disciples, there is that dramatic moment when Jesus is recognized, as when in the boat the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” But recognizing the risen Christ is not the end of the story. It is but the beginning of a life of following the risen Lord in the community of his Church. So, even before being formally entrusted with his special mission to shepherd the Church, Peter led the way, jumping into the sea and swimming to Jesus ahead of the others, already leading his flock, leading here by example, illustrating what it means, first, to recognize the risen Lord and, then, actually to follow him.
Discipleship is a lifelong process. So it was for Peter, as Jesus’ concluding words to him made clear – just as his words also make clear for us that we learn by doing, as Peter did. if we as Church do nothing to bring his risen life anywhere to anyone else right here and now in the basic bread and fish of ordinary life, then well may Jesus have to ask us over and over again, do you love me?
For in the end Jesus is also saying to each of us in his or her own way of life, in his or her particular role and vocation in the Church, Pope, priest, or layperson, what he first said to Peter: Follow me!
Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, May 4, 2025.
