Jesus the Grill Master
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JESUS THE GRILL MASTER
The Rev. J. Donald Waring
Grace Church in New York
The Third Sunday of Easter
May 4, 2025
When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. (John 21:9, 13)
It’s been over forty years now since Hollywood first released the remarkable movie, “Sophie’s Choice.” The film is based on a 1976 novel by William Styron, and stars Meryl Streep, who won an Oscar for her portrayal of Sophie Zawistowska. The story goes that Sophie is a beautiful, young Polish woman who ran afoul of the Nazi occupying forces in World War Two, and was taken to Auschwitz. Somehow she managed to survive the death camp, even though every other member of her family perished. At one point in the picture we learn the reason for its title, “Sophie’s Choice.” Upon arriving at Auschwitz with her two young, terrified children desperately clinging to her legs, Sophie was made to choose between her little boy and her little girl: which would live and which would die? If she failed to choose, they both would die. In one hurried and horrible moment she made the choice that her little boy would live. The little girl was pried from her arms and taken away screaming. As it turned out in the end, both died anyway.
The film shows Sophie bravely trying to build some sort of life in Brooklyn in the years just after the war. The trouble is, she can’t escape the haunting memories of her old life, no matter where, or with whom she tries to flee. She can’t forget, she can’t forgive herself, she can’t distract herself for long from the remorse over the choice she was forced to make. In the end her final choice is to take her own life. Who can blame her? The regret was simply too much to bear.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of John (21:1-19) has reminded of the movie, Sophie’s Choice. Why? Well, if you stay with me for a few moments, I’ll tell you why. The 21st chapter of John is one that puzzles Biblical scholars, but I believe that if we look at it as a two act drama in four scenes, it all hangs together. Act 1 might be entitled “On the Water,” and we can call Scene 1, “A Night of Fishing.” The setting is the Sea of Tiberius, otherwise known as the Gulf of Mexico. Forgive me, I couldn’t resist. It was otherwise known as the Sea of Galilee until the Romans renamed it after their dear leader. The time is some weeks, if not more, after the first Easter Day. Following their experiences of meeting the risen Jesus that John describes in chapter 20, the disciples appear to have returned to their old routines. Peter declares that he’s going fishing, so he pushes out into the deep. They toil all night and catch nothing. So ends Scene 1 of Act 1.
We might call Scene 2 of Act 1 by one of two names. It could be “The Appearance of Jesus,” or “The Miraculous Catch of Fish.” In either case, the disciples on the water hear a man on the beach instructing them to let down their nets on the right side of the boat. Obediently, they cast their nets, and suddenly have a huge catch of fish, one so large that it threatens to swamp the boat. It’s here that they recognize Jesus as the man on the shore. As the others continue hauling in the catch, Peter leaps from the boat and swims to shore. So ends the first act.
Act 2 might be called “On the Beach,” and Scene 1 would be entitled, “Jesus Grills Fish.” When all the disciples finally arrive on shore, they find that the man – that Jesus – has started a charcoal fire. He is already grilling some fish and toasting some bread, all of which he shares with them. Strangely, even though they know it’s Jesus, they still aren’t sure. Perhaps they were too busy counting all the large fish they had caught – 153 in all. Scene 1 of Act 2 ends with John’s observation that this was the third time Jesus was revealed to the disciples after the resurrection.
Finally, Scene 2 of Act 2 would be called “Jesus Grills Peter.” Seriously. Jesus grills Peter. Jesus is the grill master in John 21. After breakfast, still on the beach, presumably in the hearing of the others, Jesus grills Peter with a series of repetitive questions, beginning with “Do you love me more than these?” Two more times Jesus asks Peter essentially the same question. After the third rendition, Peter is hurt, or grieved, as if Jesus didn’t believe him. Nevertheless, Jesus brings the conversation to a close by saying, “Follow me.”
As I mentioned earlier, these two acts and four scenes of John 21 puzzle the Biblical scholars. They note, rightly, that John seems already to have brought the Gospel to a rousing finish at the end of chapter 20. Even though all the earliest copies of John and references to it include chapter 21, still, they say, it appears to be a later addition to what was an already completed work. What is more, they note that John appears to have borrowed and altered the story of the miraculous catch of fish from Luke (5:1-11). In Luke it is a pre-resurrection event, while in John it is a post-Easter occurrence. If the miraculous catch happened twice, why, they wonder, were the disciples so slow to recognize Jesus the second time around? After all, they’d already experienced two previous resurrection appearances. Were they ever going to catch on and understand? For these reasons and more, if you go to the land where Biblical scholars dwell, you’ll hear a vigorous debate over how seriously we should take chapter 21 of John.
So how seriously should we take John 21? My answer would be very seriously. And I might add, very gratefully. This past Lent, for our Wednesday evening Bible study we chose 1st Corinthians, and used a commentary by the noted New Testament scholar, N.T. Wright. It is entitled, 1 Corinthians For Everyone. But it’s the subtitle that interests me: 20th Anniversary Edition with Study Guide. Yes, the author finished the book twenty years ago, but with new inspiration and fresh information, the same author updated it and provided a study guide. John 21 is almost like a study guide for life in Christ. I can imagine Peter sitting down with John, some time after John thought he was done writing, and Peter explaining, “Here’s how the risen Jesus went to work rehabilitating me.” Write this down as a study guide for ongoing life in Christ.
To be sure, after Easter Day, Peter needed rehabilitating. He needed to be put back together. Witness how aimless he was when we find him today: back to his old trade of fishing, as if he’d never met Jesus. But the risen Jesus had great expectations for Peter as a shepherd of the Christian flock – if not the head shepherd, the rock upon whom he would build his church, even the first Pope. By the way, have you seen the movie, Conclave? You really should before Wednesday. I won’t spoil the surprise ending for you, other than to say that they choose a Pope, as they will seek to do starting this week. Say what you will about the Roman Catholic Church, the Protestant Reformation, and our place in it, we should all be invested in the choice of a wise and godly Pope. Look at it this way: no serious scholar would doubt the historic connection between Peter and Rome. Had something powerfully real not happened on the seashore, no conclave would be meeting this week, or ever. Sophie Zawistowska is a character of fiction. Peter was not. Peter was a real, rough-and-tumble person. If Peter were to fulfill whatever the calling was that Jesus imagined for him, Jesus himself would have to heal him. You see, Peter suffered from regret and remorse that resulted from a choice he made. Indeed, here is where John 21 reminds me of the movie, Sophie’s Choice. We know what Sophie’s choice was. What was Peter’s choice? The charcoal fire is the key. Follow the aroma of the charcoal fire to learn about Peter’s choice.
Where does the charcoal fire take us? The only other time that John (18:18) specifies a charcoal fire was at the home of Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was the high priest. It was to the home of Annas where the arresting authorities first took Jesus and subjected him to the corrupt trial. Peter followed at a distance. Inside, the interrogators beat, mocked, and questioned Jesus. Outside, Peter waited with some others, warming himself by a charcoal fire. While there, beside the charcoal fire, three times different people accused Peter of knowing Jesus. Three times Peter chose to deny it. Keep in mind that at least three other times, Peter had declared that he would never forsake Jesus. Peter imagined himself to be the number-one overall draft pick of the disciples. But in a crucial moment, the harsh reality of his performance on the field told a different story. We can imagine that no one felt worse about it than Peter. Peter was ashamed of himself. For all of Peter’s bravado, for all of his declarations of loyalty to Jesus, not once, not twice, but three times he denied even knowing him. Are you not one of his disciples? I am not. I am not. I deny it. The charcoal fire takes us right back to the moment.
What is exciting to me about John 21 is how Jesus methodically unwinds Peter’s guilt and shame. Amidst the familiar aroma and crackle of the charcoal fire, Jesus counters Peter’s denials, one by one, with the question, Do you love me. Then, with each of Peter’s affirmative answers, Jesus gives him a new commission, thus renewing his confidence in him. Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. Do you know the expression, “You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube?” Well, on one level, you cannot. You cannot put the toothpaste back in the tube. You cannot pull back the email you never should have sent. You cannot unsay the hurtful words you never should have spoken. What choice do we have then, but to live with the guilt and shame? What we can do is choose life. We have the choice of accepting the gift that Jesus gave to Peter: the undoing of guilt, the unwinding of regret, the offer of forgiveness. It’s true. By the power of the Spirit, the risen Jesus can go to work cleaning up the messy remorse of any guilty soul. The Psalm (30:3) we recited today says it well: You brought me up, O Lord, from the dead; you restored my life as I was going down to the grave. Peter had dug himself into a hole, and it was caving in on him. Peter was going down to the grave. But Jesus brought him up from the dead. Jesus restored his life.
How does it happen? Did Peter’s restoration occur all at once, so that when the curtain came down on Scene 2 of Act 2, the drama was over and guilt never pricked his conscience again? Did he truly leave it all behind by the shore of the lake? Likewise, in the reading from Acts (9:1-20) we heard about Saul of Tarsus, soon to be Paul the Apostle. Was Paul’s transformation on the Damascus Road complete, so that he never looked back? I am not doubting the possibility of sudden, dramatic, and permanent transformations, but the Scriptural record of these two is that their restoration was ongoing. They remained works in progress in the hands of Jesus for the rest of their fruitful lives.
The same is true for you and me. Jesus has high hopes and expectations for us, as he did for Peter and Paul. The gift on offer today is a new beginning. It is rehabilitation in Christ. It is a fresh start on the road to growing into the full stature of Jesus, so that he can bring to completion his purposes through us. Jesus calls to us from the shore – from another shore and in a greater light. He speaks to us through this community gathered in his name, through the Word, and through the Sacrament.
When you come forward today for Communion, receive the bread as a gift, in the open, extended palm of your hand. Know that the one who gives it is the Lord – the same Lord Jesus, who multiplied the loaves for the five-thousand in the wilderness. It is the Lord, who gave bread to his disciples on the beach. It is the Lord, who on the night before he died said, “This is my body given for you.”
Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts, by faith, with thanksgiving.