May 5, 2022
Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily on the 3rd Sunday of Easter (Year C) on May 1, 2022, at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Acts 5:27-32, 40b-41; Psalm 30; Revelation 15:11-14; and John 21:1-19.
Last week, we heard the end of the 20th chapter of the Gospel of John, declaring that Jesus did many other things “that are not written in this book.” It sounds like an ending, doesn’t it? But there’s another whole chapter, most of which we’ll hear today. Jesus’ disciples were apparently in an awkward position. They wanted to do what Jesus would have them do, but they did not yet know exactly how to do it.
What about us? How has the experience of the resurrection changed our lives? How are we awaiting Jesus’ instructions, and what are we doing when we aren’t sure what to do?
Let us recall how, in baptism, each of us was invited into the resurrected life of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
The first time I went to the Holy Land, my fellow pilgrims and I spent an hour sailing on the Sea of Galilee. It was a beautiful day, with sweeping views of the stretch of eight miles along the shore where Jesus did so much of his ministry recorded in the gospels. Unfortunately, the guys who ran the boat company were too much of entertainers for my liking. It was hard to have a meditative hour on the sea when the crew hoisted an American flag and played the national anthem, and then told jokes and played modern rock songs over the PA system. Yes, it was fun when the crew taught us how to dance to “Hava Nagila” and we made fools of ourselves dancing it, but something was wrong when someone in our group joked, “What happens on the Sea of Galilee stays on the Sea of Galilee.” I responded, “Uh, actually, I think the whole point is to share what happened on the Sea of Galilee.”
Whenever Christ reveals himself to us in our hearts, it’s not supposed to stay in the privacy of our hearts. What happens at church on Sundays is not supposed to stay in church on Sundays. It’s supposed to transform us. It’s supposed to transfigure the world.
What are Peter, Thomas, and “the beloved disciple” doing back at home in Galilee, fishing, in chapter 21 of the Gospel of John? They are explicitly mentioned in chapter 20 as coming to believe in Christ’s resurrection. Thomas declared Jesus to be “my Lord and my God.” The beloved disciple ran to the empty tomb and “saw and believed.”
Things hold us back from assisting God in transfiguring the world. We’re scared of the uncertainty that comes with letting the Holy Spirit direct our lives. We feel that we’ve committed such terrible sins that there’s no way that the Holy Spirit could use us. Think of Peter. On Holy Thursday, he declared to Jesus, “I will lay down my life for you.” And only a few hours later, Peter abandoned Jesus, and while warming himself at a charcoal fire, he denied Jesus three times, because he didn’t want to face the consequences for sticking out from the crowd. It definitely isn’t a coincidence that Jesus asks Peter three questions as he sits with him beside another charcoal fire.
[Pause.] Later on that same day of the pilgrimage, we visited the very place where Peter and Jesus supposedly had this conversation. We had a lot of quiet time there, to simply sit on the shore. Unlike our raucous time on the boat, this was a holy time, a time to pray. Take a moment, to imagine that you’re sitting alone on the shoreline with Jesus at a charcoal fire. [Pause.]
After encountering the resurrected Jesus, our lives have been irrevocably changed. But what does that mean? We might not be called to abandon the lives we’re living, to enthusiastically jump out of the boat with both feet and make fools of ourselves as Peter did. Even though the future remains uncertain, we can persevere with gospel joy. If we choose to stay in the boat, can we at least keep in mind how our fishing serves the gospel? Perhaps we should make different choices in how we cast the nets or how we steer the boat. [Pause.]
This is a very odd month of my life. Because of some unusual circumstances, the Paulists cannot yet ask the bishop for permission to send me where they plan to reassign me. So, even though I’m wrapping up my time at St. Austin in 21 days, I cannot make many plans about what comes next. Paradoxically, this has freed me up to better journey with Jesus in the present moment than I usually do. What a gift to sit in the great gratitude of the here and now I’m sharing with all of you!
Helen Mallicoat wrote a simple poem that plays on how, throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus refers to himself by the name that God revealed to Moses at the burning bush: “I AM.” I’d like to share it with you. Please close your eyes, and imagine yourself sitting on the shoreline, wondering where God is calling you next.
I AM
by Helen Mallicoat (1913-2004)I was regretting the past
and fearing the future.
Suddenly my Lord was speaking:“My name is I AM.” He paused.
I waited. He continued,
“When you live in the past,
with its mistakes and regrets,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I Was.“When you live in the future,
with its problems and fears,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I Will Be.“When you live in this moment,
it is not hard. I am here.
“My name is I AM.”