This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa on May 5, 2019. It’s based on John 21:1-17. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson/.
John 21:1-17
After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. 2 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. 3 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.
4 Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5 Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” 6 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. 7 That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. 8 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.
9 When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11 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. 12 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. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
15 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.” 16 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.” 17 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.
If I could, instead of preaching this morning, I would take you all to the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre on West 45th Street in New York. There, we would see Come From Away, a musical that tells the story of Gander, Newfoundland residents who welcomed nearly 7,000 stranded passengers, pilots, and flight crew members after U.S. airspace was closed on the morning of 9/11. The plane people, as they came to be called, nearly doubled the town’s population.
Feed my sheep, Jesus commands Simon Peter. If you love me, as you say you do, this is how you show it—feeding my sheep, tending my sheep, feeding my lambs.
This is precisely what the residents of Gander did. Schools, churches, community centers were turned into shelters, though in time many stranded passengers were invited to stay with families in their homes. The manager of the local SPCA made her way onto the grounded planes and found every last animal boarded in the cargo holds—9 dogs, 10 cats, and 2 rare chimpanzees. She worked around the clock, ensuring their welfare.1 The local hockey rink became a huge refrigerator as Gander residents began cooking. The president of the airport described the scene this way: It was like casserole city.2
The musical, based on interviews with the town’s residents and the plane people, is filled with scene after scene that could aptly be captioned: Feed My Sheep. When the playwrights were in Gander conducting interviews and touring the airport as part of their research, the tour guide asked, So what are you doing again? And they said, We’re making a musical. He responded, About people making sandwiches?3
The people of Gander didn’t consider their care of these plane people as anything extraordinary. It was what they knew to do. Feed my sheep.
One character in the musical, a young New Yorker, is incredibly fearful about being stranded in such a remote place. When the mayor invites him to come home with him, the young man is wary. He grows only more concerned when the mayor sends him to collect grills from the neighbors’ back yards for a community cookout to lift the people’s spirits. The young man imagines he’ll be shot, trespassing in yards and stealing grills. But he goes, with trepidation.
And in the first yard, the homeowner comes out of his back door and says, Are you taking my grill?
Yes.
Well, my wife has some water on to boil. Care to come in for a cup of tea?
I was offered a cup of tea in every yard I entered, the young man tells the audience. People were offering to help me steal their own grills!
When he returns home to New York, his dad asks him how he fared in Gander, how he survived. How do I tell him, the young man wonders, that I didn’t just survive. I was better.
Feed my sheep.
Compassion, empathy, feed-you-like-you’re-family hospitality is powerful. It is the very love of God incarnate, embodied, real and lasting. In the midst of a world turned upside down, it is home.
Previously, when the risen Jesus appears to his disciples, he gives them peace, and purpose, and power. Here, on the seashore, he gives them breakfast. He gathers them together for a meal of bread and fish on the charcoal fire. A cookout, if you will.
Jesus feeds his disciples with bread and fish…and with his presence among them. He turns their grief to joy. He demonstrates his victory over sin and death and want and worry. With a charcoal fire on the beach, the good shepherd prepares a table for his sheep in the face of their sorrow and fear.
He does the same for you.
And when they had finished breakfast—when they had been strengthened by a meal with their Lord—he commands them to do what he has done for them: Feed my sheep.
Do you love me? Feed my sheep.
Our love of Jesus shows forth in love for others. Fed at our Lord’s table, we are sent out to feed the lambs entrusted to our care.
Rachel Held Evans, the writer and theologian I told you about last week, died early yesterday morning. Hers was a life spent feeding sheep, because she experienced the boundless grace of God at Jesus’ table. During her illness, and now in the wake of her death, tributes are pouring in.4 And just listen to how these lambs have been fed by her:
Road blocks were set up between me and God. Rachel’s words removed them one at a time until I could look directly at God again. —Glennon Doyle
She helped so many of us better recognize how expansive God’s love is. —Jeff Chu
She would periodically reach out to many of us reporters—unsolicited—with random words of encouragement. Just because. Even if she disagreed. —Jack Jenkins
She sought out Christ by asking uncomfortable questions and demanding answers centered in justice and compassion. She chose love.–Charlotte Clymer
Rachel once wrote: This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry. Because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.5
We are a hungry people, a hungry world. A world where planes become bombs, and people die before they should, and our hearts break, and our tears flow.
Hungry ones, beloved of God, the risen Christ comes to feed you, love you, assure you that death does not have the final word anymore, send you to feed his sheep—to feed one another—with God’s abundant grace.
Make a sandwich. Make a stand. Feed my sheep.
Offer a cup of tea. Offer a word of encouragement. Feed my sheep.
Write a musical. Write a book. Celebrate and inspire communities of wholehearted welcome. Feed my sheep.
Near the conclusion of Come From Away, the islanders sing: If you’re hoping for a harbor, then you’ll find an open door. To the ones who’ve left: you’re never truly gone. Our candle’s in the window and the kettle’s always on.6
There is always a place at the table here for you. There is always a place in God’s heart for you. There is always Jesus–for you–the bread of life, the light of the world, our comfort, our joy, our peace.
If you’re hoping for a harbor, it’s here for you. In Christ, it’s here for you. And through Christ, it’s yours to share with others. Amen.
1, 3 https://dctheatrescene.com
4 The following quotations were all taken from Twitter responses to the tragic news of Rachel’s death.
5