The Third Sunday of Easter: "Lovin' Those Chores"

“Peter, do you love me?”

A commentary I read on this scripture passage this past week
took an unexpected turn.[1]

Instead of dealing with the symbolic significance
of the number of fish caught in Peter’s net;
instead of delving into Greek grammar
and the verb tense of words like philia or agape,
the scholar who wrote the article went straight to the heart of the reading
and pulled out that amazing phrase:
“Peter, do you love me?”

The scholar pushed aside his Interlinear Greek Translation of the New Testament
and leaned across his desk and asked a pointed question:

“Do you know how hard it is to ask that question: Do you love me?”

And he’s right.
Most of us, if we happen to be more five years old,
are terrified at the thought of asking such a question.

It is hard enough for some husbands to tell their wives that they’re love.
But that’s nothing compare to asking, “Do you love?”
It’s excruciatingly difficult for most of us to ask, “Do you love me?”

When was the last time you heard a teenager,
struggling so hard to find their way in life,
ask a parent, “Mom…Dad…do you love me?”

Has anyone here ever asked a friend, “Do you love me?”

Have you ever been brave enough
—or desperate enough—
to ask a brother or sister,
“Do you love me?”

Yet, here is the Lord-God-of-Heaven-and-Earth
asking a barrel-chested fisherman
with a thick skull,
impulsive nature
and quick temper,
“Peter, do you love me?”

Amazing, isn’t it?

I can’t imagine the Archbishop of Cincinnati asking me such a question.

Could you imagine your boss asking you that question?
Why, it would go against every rule of professionalism that exists.

Yet, when Jesus asked Peter that question,
it was nothing less than a job description and a performance appraisal
rolled into one.

“If you love me, Peter, then…
feed my lambs,
tend my sheep
look after the flock.”

In our world today
where office cubicles have overtaken
sheep pens and pasture fields,
it’s difficult to connect these two vital components of faith:
loving Christ and serving Christ.

The two go hand-in-hand.
In fact, if we try to compartmentalize our faith life
the way we compartmentalize our work life,
we’ll never make it.
We’ll quite before the job’s completed,
We’ll clock out and blow it off.

Why?
Because we will have not given the Lord the opportunity
to ask us the questions
that Jesus asked Peter.
“Do you love me, Peter?”
And again.
“Do you love me, Peter?”
And yet again.
“Do you love me?”

* * *

I have some friends up in Darke County named Gary and Gretta.
They have a farm and they raise sheep.
A number of years ago I had supper at their house.
We lingered at the table after the meal
but one of the boys, Brad, about ten or twelve years old at the time,
got up to do his chores.

From where I was seated, I could see into the mud room
where he open the closet door where the coveralls hung.
And there, on the inside door of the closet,
was an 8 ½ x 11 picture a religion textbook:
a close-up image of Jesus’ face and beneath it the words:
“Feed my lambs.”

Now, was that ingenious, or what?

I thought back to the all the times I bucked and complained
about doing my chores as a boy.
But at least my parents never put a picture of Jesus
next to my coveralls telling me
to get out to the barn and feed his sheep!

(Then, again, maybe they should have.)

The lesson’s as obvious what takes place
in every house,
every classroom,
every work place
everyday.

It’s as natural
as setting the table,
make a beds
or taking out the garbage:

If we love one another, we do our chores,
we lend a hand.
If we love one another, we pull our weight.

If we love one another, Christ lives in us and we live in him.

And don’t be surprised if someday
the Lord asks you the same question he asked
that barrel-chested, thick-headed fisherman:
“Peter, do you love me?”

Make sure your answer’s as honest as his:
“Yes, Lord. You know I love you.
You know well that I love you.”











[1] Cf. “The Word Embodied” by Fr. John Kavanaugh, SJ at www.liturgy.slu.edu.