I walked into the room, just in time to watch the Kentucky
Derby race last night. When I looked at
the television, I saw that the ground was muddy and looked very slippery. I commented to Jeff that this track looked
like it was dangerous for the horses and their riders. I don’t know much about horse racing, but I think
I know a little bit about poor conditions.
I wondered if it was even safe for those horses to run.
When the gates opened and the horses
took off, I think I might have held my breath, waiting for disaster to
strike. Just one slip of a hoof and the whole
group could go down. It was one of those
times where I wanted to look away, but at the same time, I couldn’t.
I joked about how the race is only a
couple of minutes long, yet there is such a buzz about fancy hats, fascinators,
and mint juleps. The spectacle and party
just might be more important than the race.
Don’t get me wrong. I think that
we do this kind of thing around many sporting events. The party is a big deal.
Two minutes go by and I am watching
these horses stay upright and I breathe a sigh of relief that nothing catastrophic
happened. I’m sure there were many
trainers and owners who breathed that sigh, too.
The excitement of and for the rider
who rode the fastest horse was fun to watch.
His elation and pride in his horse was evident.
And then…the race came into
question. We watched for over 15 minutes
as the team of three stewards looked at video of the race from all angles to
determine whether the fastest horse had caused the other horses to slow down.
I watched as the face of the jockey of
the fastest horse went from joy and elation to fear, doubt and anxiety. While he waited, it looked like he was
reliving the race, trying to picture where the actions of the horse, and his
own reaction, might have disqualified them both.
I don’t think I’m giving any spoilers
away. I’m sure you have heard that he
was disqualified.
There was heartbreak on his face. But not disbelief. I think he knew that something went awry and
that the stewards, which is another word for judges, had to make a difficult
decision. It didn’t go his way, even
though he was riding the fastest horse.
I’m sure there was some part of him
that deflated in that moment. His ego,
perhaps. I’m certain that he is embarrassed
and that in the moment all he wanted to do was get away from the cameras and
find some quiet place to let his true emotions emerge without an audience.
I wonder what his future will
bring. I am curious to learn if the
trainers and owners will be supportive or if they will dismiss him. I wonder if his career is over and what will
come next for him.
When Jesus spent his last week with
his friends, colleagues, disciples and apostles, he coached them, preparing
them for the next thing, the big race, the big game. Then, he died on the cross and was put in a
tomb and they thought it was all over.
The game, the race, had been lost.
Then, Jesus showed up in the locker --er-- locked room
where they were hiding, where they were letting their true emotions show, where
they could be with one another in private.
Jesus came to them, as we talked about last week, and breathed on them
the gift of the Holy Spirit. It was like
his coaching wasn’t over and their time in the locker room, gave them the
strength to head back out onto the field, or onto the horse.
And just like that, <snap> Jesus
was gone again. They were pumped up
enough to get excited and ready to go back out into the world to teach whomever
they met about this amazing man, God’s Son.
But they didn’t leave just yet.
As we learned last week, Jesus came
back eight days later, bringing more encouragement to all of them, but
especially to Thomas. He gave them
another pep talk and then, he vanished.
Now, a few more days have passed. These followers of Jesus have probably
remained in that locked room, leaving only to take care of their necessities,
and the elation and excitement and powerful, motivating words of Jesus have
become echoes and whispers in their memories.
Sure, it was easy to go out into the
world and watch Jesus do his thing. It
was easy to be the groupies and the fans, cheering him on. But now, now they were the team and if the
team is going to win any games, I mean, save any souls, they were going to have
to go do what Jesus did.
And oh. My. Gosh. That is scary.
Who has been there? How many of you have had to take a step out
of your comfort zone and do something you didn’t think you could ever do?
Yeah.
That’s the feeling.
So, instead of doing what Jesus
expected of them, Peter decided it might just be easier to go back into the
family business and do what he knew how to do:
fish.
I’m not sure why he chose to go out fishing
at night, or why all of them piled into that boat to fish with him, but one of
the things we know about the writers of the Gospels is that when something
happens at night it is another way of describing one’s lack of knowledge or
lack of faith. That might be important
to note here. They were out fishing at
night, but, like in other fishing stories we have heard, they were not catching
any fish.
Think about that for a moment. They were hiding on their boats, doing what
was easy, at a time when no one could see them or even know they were on the
water. There is not a lot of spreading
the Good News that can happen there.
As dawn is breaking, they see a man on
the shore, building a charcoal fire—a charcoal fire, not unlike the one Peter
stood near when he denied being a disciple of Jesus that fateful night. The fishermen don’t recognize this form of Jesus
until he tells them to put the nets on the other side of the boat. Where have they heard that before?
Of course, they find the motherlode of
fish: 153 of them, and they pull them
into the boat and come ashore, where Jesus invites them to eat with him. Picture this:
the sun is rising on the shore and illuminating Jesus. Now they know it is their coach, their
mentor, their teacher, their friend, who has come to encourage them to do what
it is they were training to do for all these years.
What Jesus does next might seem harsh.
He asks Peter, three times, if Peter
loves him. Of course, Jesus knows Peter
loves him, but Jesus needs Peter to know.
Jesus also needs Peter to know that because he loves Jesus, he has work
to do.
“Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. Your work is to care for the people of God,
the people who will follow me. When you
do these things, you will show me that you love me.”
I wonder if the disqualified jockey
from yesterday’s race felt a little like Peter.
Did he want to run away and hide someplace where he felt safe? And if he did, did his trainer, coach, owner
and mentor come to him and quietly encourage him to try again? Did they tell him he could take a little time
to relive those twenty minutes, to express all the feelings needed to let go of
them? Will they give him another chance?
We are given another chance. Anytime we doubt our ability to follow Christ’s
example, anytime we think it might be easier to curl up in a safe place and
hide instead of changing and growing and developing our gifts and talents to be
agents for God in this world, we are given a new dawn.
This story of Jesus coming to visit his
followers and friends one more time is our story, too. We are being drawn out from our safe places,
those places where we know our abilities and our success is more ensured, and
we are expected to do something more.
Jesus loves us that much. How we express our love in return is to do
just what Jesus told Peter to do, “feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.”
Let
us pray.
Dear One, when our lives are at a place where we are tasked to do
something new or different to live more fully as your hands and feet in the
world; and we want to return to what is most familiar, easiest, comfortable instead;
remind us of today’s Gospel story. Help
us to remember that those who walked on this earth with Jesus reverted to their
comfort and familiarity when they were less than confident that they could live
into this new life created by you. That
Jesus came to them at dawn to not only remind them of their new life tasks, but
to also supply them with sustenance to do the work. Daily guide our hearts and minds, feet and
hands, to be the disciples you have called us to be. Amen.