Sermon for Third Sunday of Easter

Acts 9

9 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3 Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” 5 He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 6 But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” 7 The men who were travelling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. 8 Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. 9 For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

John 21: 1 - 19

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,[a] 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[b] 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. 18 Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” 19 (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

In Holy Cross Church, in the North Yorkshire village of Gilling East, there are some beautiful stained glass windows, and also a number of clear plain glass windows.

I ministered in that Church for a year, during which time I slowly recovered my ability to work having had to resign my last Post because of illness. Having examined the stained glass windows in Holy Cross, I began to more look carefully at the plain glass. The clear windows were made up of many diamond shaped leaded lights, but a few of the little diamonds of glass had been repaired. The glass must have broken, and rather than purchase a new piece of glass, the two broken pieces had been fixed together with lead.

Why am I telling you?

Mending broken things changes the pattern.

In our reading from John we heard the story of the restoration of Peter.

While Jesus was on trial, outside in the courtyard Peter had denied being his disciple three times, and later wept bitterly of his betrayal of Jesus. So here, on the beach, after the resurrection, Jesus asks Peter three times, 'do you love me?' The purpose is not to heal the wounds of Christ, but to heal the wounds Peter had inflicted on himself, we can see this as each time Peter answers, he is commissioned to care for Christ's flock of disciples, that is the nascent Church. The words of love Peter is challenged to speak fix together the broken glass of his soul, and enable him to serve and care for those around him.

I wonder if it was this that years later inspired Peter to write to the churches, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”

During the trial and crucifixion Peter had snapped, but the risen Christ, ever the carpenter, fixes him. Not that Peter is the same as before, the mending can be seen in his life, and in his soul, and in his service.

The year I spent ministering in the Ampleforth Benefice, of which Gilling East is a part, helped to fix my broken health, and my broken confidence, and my shattered ministry. I was reminded of the love I felt for the Church, but the mend could be seen, and still can be, as mending broken things changes the pattern.

The meaning of the exchange between Peter and Jesus is somewhat hidden in an English translation. There are actually two words for love at play here; 'agape' meaning unconditional, committed, divine love, and 'phlieo', meaning brotherly love - that is love dependent on a reciprocal human relationship.

Jesus asks Peter, 'do you agapâis me?'

Peter replies, 'I phileô you.'

Jesus asks again, 'do you agapâis me?'

Peter, once more, 'I phileô you.'

Then Jesus asks, 'do you phileis me?'

Peter replies as before, 'I phileô you.'

It seems Peter can not bring himself to say agape, he thought he had that kind of love for Jesus, the kind that does not turn away, but he did turn away. He had even said to Jesus, '...if everyone else deserts you, I will never desert you,' he had meant it, but found painfully it not to be so. Jesus sees Peter's grief, and accepts phileo as an answer. Jesus meets Peter where he is at, he does not ask more than Peter can give, and yet by the kind of paradox with which the work of God is weaved together, Peter goes on from that moment in agape love of Christ and of his Church. A love that does not turn from suffering and set backs, a love that leads Peter to face a martyr's death for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Peter had thought his love for Jesus to be invincible, but found it was not. Then, standing before the risen Christ, he seriously doubted his love could ever be invincible, but it proved to be unconquerable.

In our first reading we heard of that other great builder of the early Church, the Apostle Paul, except here we encounter him as Saul, 'breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.'

The risen Lord meets him on the road to Damascus, as he had meet Peter on the beach, and as with Peter, Jesus asks a question, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

If you have questions, it may be a sign you have met with Jesus.

However, Saul is not like Peter, Saul appears not to be wounded, but to be wounding others. I wonder if that is right? Was Saul perhaps wounded? Was he lashing out because he had no peace? Does not violence most often spring from fear?

We read that when Saul got up from the ground, “... though his eyes were open, he could see nothing.” Jesus, who had opened the eyes of the blind, once said, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.” In the kind of paradox with which the work of God is weaved together, Saul is blinded by the light so that he may see the way of God before him.

Saul is saved, which means to be restored, or healed, it is to receive a salve for our sins or our brokenness. Like Peter, he goes on from this salvific encounter with the risen Christ to serve the Church.

Brokenness and service often walk together in the life of the Church. Here is a true story of a church that found this to be so. On 22 February 1322 in Ely Cathedral, just moments after the monks had returned from singing Morning Prayer in their stalls beneath the central Tower, that tower collapsed, bringing hundreds of tons of stone thundering to the ground. The church was filled with rubble, and above was a massive gaping hole where the tower once had been.

Alan of Walsingham, the monk who designed the Tower was horrified, a fellow Monk wrote of him, 'He was devastated, grieving vehemently and overcome with sorrow... that he knew not which way to turn himself or what to do for the reparation of such a ruin.'

If you visit Ely Cathedral now, and if you look up from the nave crossing you do not see the open sky, you see a magnificent vaulted tower rising 170 feet above your head. The monks rebuilt, managing to overcome the original design fault by rebuilding the Tower and lantern top in wood instead of stone. Even so, there is apparently 400 tons of oak up suspended there above your head.

At the very apex of the tower, over 150 feet above Cathedral floor, is a painting of Christ in glory, surrounded by the saints, with his right hand raised up to display a crucifixion wound, and his left hand reaching across his body to open his clothing, revealing the wound in his side.

The picture is not decorative; it is telling us something about the repair of the Minster, and about our Christian faith and service. Just as the wound to the Cathedral had been closed up, but the marks remained for all to see, so are the rich wounds of Christ yet visible above. 'He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.' Angels bow before mysteries so bright, but here is the transcendent form of our salvation, a from that incorporates the traceries of our restoration, like those panes of glass in Gilling East, or Peter reconciled to Jesus, or Saul become Paul, or my painful pilgrimage back to ministry.

Mending broken things changes the pattern, but makes them serviceable.

Amen.