Homily for Third Sunday in Easter - April 18, 2010

Approximately forty years ago, a Presbyterian preacher named George Buttrick was the minister of the Memorial Church at Harvard University. At the same time, a poet named Archibald MacLeish was a member of the Harvard faculty. One day, Mr. Buttrick asked Mr. MacLeish to lead in prayer at one of the chapel services. Mr. MacLeish refused on the grounds that he was too much of a skeptic to qualify for such an assignment. He explained that he did not mean to be rude, but he could not do it. But that evening, Mr. MacLeish called Mr. Buttrick at home and said he had changed his mind. He would do it. Then he said, “But I want one thing understood. I am not all convinced that Christianity has the right answers, but I do think it has the right questions.”
The skeptical professor may not have known it, but he was paying our faith a high compliment. Some of us are convinced that Christianity has the right answers. But it does no good to give the right answer until someone raises the right question. And our faith is literally filled with great questions.
One of those questions is found in today’s Gospel reading. For those of us who profess to be Christian I would call it the ultimate question. It was asked by the risen Christ and was directed to Simon Peter. Seated beside a campfire on the shore of Galilee, Christ looked His friend in the face and said, “Simon, do you love me?”
I. That question is ultimate in the sense that it reaches to the very heart of our faith. There are several ways of thinking about and looking at Christianity. We can see it as an ecclesiastical structure with two thousand years of history behind it and millions of members belonging to it. We can think of it as a theological system that holds to certain basic ideas about God and about life. We can look upon it as a moral and ethical standard that calls for the highest kind of conduct that the world has ever known.
All of these are valid views of Christianity but, in the beginning, it was none of these things. Trace it back to its roots, and you will discover that the Christian faith started as a friendship between a carpenter from Nazareth and a few fishermen of Galilee. They had no ecclesiastical structure and no system of theology. They did begin to learn a moral and ethical way of living. But that was not the first thing. Christianity in its inception was a bond of friendship between Jesus and His disciples. They became convinced that He loved them, and they developed in their hearts a love for Him from which they could not escape.
The nature of that relationship is clearly demonstrated in the events of today’s readings. Jesus has been crucified, buried, and raised from the dead. He has appeared to His friends on at least two occasions. But they still are not sure what it all means. The horror of the crucifixion is burned in their memory. And the mystery of the resurrection is still a puzzlement. So in their confusion, they go back to the things they know best – their boats, and their nets, and the Sea of Galilee. They have fished all night. In the dim light of the next morning, they see a lonely figure standing on the shore. John recognizes Him and says, “It is the Lord.” And Peter in sheer excitement, jumps into the water and swims to the shore. That was the spontaneous reaction of a man eager to be with a friend. When everyone got to shore, they all sat down around the campfire and ate breakfast, just as they had done many times before.
That was how the Christian faith got started – a friendship between Jesus and His disciples. And Christianity in is purest form is still that today – a love affair between Christ and His friends. If you or I could have traded places with Simon, the Lord would have dealt with us as He dealt with him. He would have looked us in the face, he would have called us by name, and he would have said, “Do you love me?” That is the question that each of us must answer.
But one thing is different for you and me. We cannot jump overboard and swim to Him, as Simon did. We cannot look Him in the face and tell Him of our love, as Simon did. But we can answer Him in the only way that really counts.
II. The ultimate question calls for the ultimate
answer. It cannot be spoken; it can only be lived. Three times the Lord asked Simon if he loved Him. Three times Simon answered that he did. And three times the Lord said, “Feed my sheep.” The only way that you and I can show our love for Christ is by sharing His concern for and commitment to other people. This is the bottom line. The ultimate answer. Nothing else really matters.
In the New Testament, our love for God, or Christ is rarely directed vertically – up to Heaven. It is always directed horizontally – out to people. As in this instance: “Simon, do you love Me?” Yes, Lord, I love you.” “Feed my sheep.” Horizontally – out to people. Another instance: Jesus said to His disciples, “As my love has been for you, so must your love be for each other.” Horizontally – out to people.
In the little book of the New Testament that we call “First John”, there is a sentence that begins like this: “If God has loved us so…” One might suppose that the rest of the sentence would say something like this: “We ought to love Him in return.” But that is not what it says. What it says is this: “If God has loved us so, we must have the same kind of love for one another.”
Real Christianity is never a two-way love affair between God and me. It is always a love triangle between God, and me, and at least one other person. The ultimate question is an individual answer. Christ looks each of us in the face, calls us by name, and asks, “Do you love me?” But the answer to that question is a social matter. The only way that we can show our love for Him is by genuinely caring for one other.