Hearken back to the day of your First Communion: do you remember what you wore? No doubt, most of us who received the Sacrament for the first time in second grade (or thereabouts) looked like little brides and grooms coming down the center aisle of our parish churches: the girls beaming and feeling glamourous in lace and veil; the boys tugging at their starched collars and counting the minutes until they can change into a tee-shirt and shorts.
What we were attired in that day says something beautifully symbolic about what was about to happen and Whom we were to receive: when we are coming to the altar to receive the Living Presence of God for the first time, why wouldn’t our clothing match our young hearts longing for God? Why wouldn’t we dress as one preparing for a wedding when our Bridegroom is to give Himself to us in the Blessed Sacrament as food for the journey.
What we wear speaks to what we believe.
That’s why I am struck by Peter in today’s Resurrection account on the Sea of Tiberias. This is now the third time the Resurrected Christ appeared to the disciples after the Crucifixion, and they are still found to be a mixture of unbelief, sorrow and confusion. They sound a lot like us, huh? The resurrected Savior keeps breaking into their daily lives, and these disciples are still all over the map with their emotions and their understanding of His incredible Love.
I often find myself pondering the reasons why Peter returned to the boat -- the very source of his livelihood before he first encountered the stranger on the lakeshore who called himself Jesus of Nazareth.
Did he return to fishing because he didn’t know what else to do now that their leader was dead and buried?
Was Peter giving up on faith and sailing away from the life of faith he once knew?
Was he trying to recapture some of the original spark of love and mercy he found three years back when Jesus originally called him to follow? After all, don’t we often return to places of happiness when we are grieving, unsure of ourselves, and frightened about the future?
Regardless of why Peter returned to the water, what he does next is even more symbolic, like donning clothing that speaks to where we are in life: what we wear says what we believe.
When John the beloved (and youngest) disciple points out to the others who is waiting for them on the shoreline following the miraculous catch of fish (hearkening back to an earlier miracle), Peter actually puts on more clothing and dives into the water. Now I ask: who adds clothing in order to swim to shore? Wouldn’t the weight of the garment weigh him down?
And perhaps therein lies the point for John: Peter was swimming to the Lord not in freedom but with the weight of shame. Shame because he knew he betrayed His Savior. Shame because he still felt chained to his broken past of denial when Jesus needed him most. The same shame with which Adam covered himself in the Garden of Eden after having disobeyed God’s command.
What we wear says what we believe. Peter believed he was not worthy to stand before the presence of Merciful Love.
And yet – at the same time – give Peter major props here: he still was bold and brave enough to jump in the water to reach the Risen Christ: he wasn’t walking on the water this time as he had once done in the past, but he also knew he couldn’t remain in the boat of his shame forever. And so he swam, swam until he reached the place where a burning fire was ready to dry him and feed him.
The late Chicago Cardinal Bernardin would often remind his diocese of this whenever he preached this Gospel: isn’t it fascinating, he said, that the very charcoal fire where Peter betrayed Jesus on the eve of the Lord’s crucifixion became the same fire-reminder where Peter would find both the source of his food and his ultimate healing?
Just as Thomas was invited to place his brokenness and sinfulness into the resurrected wounds of God’s Healing Love, so too Peter now met that same Love around a burning fire where he was fed and healed.
There is no doubt in John’s theology that the breakfast on the beach was more than just a groovy brunch after a hard night’s work. It was, in fact, a Eucharist meal: the Christ who is very much alive and present among us continues to break the bread as we participate in His one eternal Sacrifice and now gather around the sacred Altar to feed upon the source of our forgiveness and salvation.
And thus, when we feed on this Love, then we are transformed into this love. We are what we eat.
By the end of this Resurrection-Eucharist encounter, there is one final moment that we all love, that captures our hearts and imaginations and gives us great hope: the intimate moment of reconciliation between Peter and the Lord.
“Peter, do you love me?” Christ asks, using the Greek word ‘agape’ for love – the highest form of love one can offer. “Do you agape me?”
“You know, Lord, that I love you,” Peter responds – but not with the word ‘agape.” Instead, he uses a form of love that is less than: more along the lines of a strong friendship. It is a good love, no doubt, but it is not ‘lay-down-your-life-love’ that Jesus is pointing toward with agape.
Jesus tries again a second time: “Do you agape me, Peter,” and again the fisherman responds with a less-than-agape answer. “Lord, you know I love you with a strong-but-not-quite-there-yet love.”
And so the Merciful Christ asks a third time, matching the same number of denials Peter offered on the Eve of Crucifixion: “Do you love me, Peter?” This time, though, Jesus instead uses the word for love that Peter himself was using. Jesus Christ’s love meets Peter where he was, and that very fact alone says everything we need to know about God:
He meets us where we are, and leads us to where He wants us to be. He will always lead us to agape, even if we aren’t quite there yet.
Agape love feeds and leads, and then challenges us to go do the same: “Feed my sheep.” It is a command not just for the first Pope, but for all of us who come to this sacred Table, often covered with the garments of shame.
It’s okay, though: jump in the water anyway and swim toward Him. Let Christ feed you and lead you and heal you: it’s the very reason why He went to the Cross in the first place. For when all is said and done, the wedding garments we wore at our First Communion should match the state of our hearts when we return to Him, agape love meeting agape love. Christ will make sure of it.