John 21:1-19

Today’s Gospel lesson is familiar to us.  The disciples had been on an emotional rollercoaster with the events of Good Friday and Easter.   They were not sure what was next for them after Jesus’ death so they returned to their original profession to support themselves.  But, they were experiencing a dark night.  Jesus was gone, they were alone, and they had failed to catch anything all night.

The phrase “dark night of the soul” is actually a title given to a poem by 16th-century Spanish poet and Roman Catholic mystic, Saint John of the Cross.  The author himself did not title the poem, on which he wrote two book-length commentaries.  In this poem, “dark night of the soul” does not refer to the hardships and difficulties of life in general, although the phrase has understandably been taken to refer to such trials.  By the way, in this sermon, I am going to use this phrase in both ways: 1) the nights which the soul experiences are the necessary purgation on the path to divine union and 2) the dark nights as personal hardships and difficulties of life.

The main idea of the poem can be seen as the joyful experience of being guided to God.  The only light in this dark night is that which burns in the soul.  And that is a guide more certain than the mid-day sun.  This light leads the soul engaged in the mystic journey to divine union.

I can certainly agree that we often need to experience the dark night in order to truly see the light of the new day.  I can certainly agree with Saint John of the Cross, as he tries to express that God is present all the time but we go through a time of purging and illumination to find that union.  We may not feel it, but God is there.  Always.

Have you ever had a “dark night of the soul?”  Have you ever felt so low that you were not sure you could make it back up?  Have you ever thought that you’ve hit rock bottom?  Have you ever felt like your life choices left you hopeless?  I know some of our families are having dark nights of the soul nowadays.  But, I am not going to share in details.

Many of us have had these kinds of moments in our personal lives.  Certainly, Peter must have had a dark night of the soul.  Denying Jesus 3 times on Good Friday caused him moral injury or post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) or something like that.

In order to fully understand what happened between Peter and Jesus in our text, I want to point out one Greek word which is used in verse 9: anthrakia.  This word occurs only twice in the New Testament.  We translate it, “charcoal fire.”  Once the disciples arrive on shore they “see” a charcoal fire with fish on it and some bread.  We get the impression that Jesus has set this fire, for the disciples previously had nothing to eat.

In setting this fire, Jesus has also “set up” one of the New Testament’s most fascinating scenes.  For John’s Gospel includes the New Testament’s only other reference to charcoal fire.  In John 18:18, Peter warms himself beside a charcoal fire and he remains there warming himself as he denies knowing Jesus three times.  While Jesus undergoes interrogation and beating, Peter warms himself and denies Jesus.  Three times.

John’s literary artistry has come into play, for now beside a charcoal fire, Jesus will interrogate Peter.  Three times Jesus asks, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”  Twice Peter replies, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you,” but on the third occasion, Peter is distressed by the question: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”  After each answer, Jesus instructs Peter: “Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” and “Feed my sheep.”

Interpreters have made much of the nuances of Greek vocabulary in this passage, but we can readily see why Peter is grieved.  The last time he stood by a charcoal fire, he failed miserably three times.  Now Jesus brings Peter back to the scene and puts him through another three-fold interrogation.

Jesus has confronted Peter with the moral injury of the past.  Through a ritual reenactment of that scene, Jesus walks Peter through his past and ushers him into a brand new future.  Yes, Peter has regrets; and yes, this regret has scarred his soul.  But now Peter must do the work of Jesus and tend the flock.  Somehow healing begins, and new life bursts forth.  May it be so with all of us!

Yes, Peter had had a dark night of the soul.  But, new morning has come. And on that morning, Peter receives instruction and takes it.  And in the presence of Jesus his circumstances are transformed.  In the presence of the Lord, all things can become new.  

My brothers and sisters in Christ, this is an important lesson for all of us, certainly, including me: When you can’t do anything else but sit in despair, please know that you are not alone.  You are having a dark night of the soul, but sooner or later, morning will come and healing comes in the morning.  If you are still living in the Holy Week and your Good Friday seems never end, hang on, my friends, because Easter is coming.  Amen?

I am not just talking about my personal life, raising two teenagers as a single parent.  I am talking about my calling.  It has been already two years since I have served as the pastor of our congregation.  Over the years, we are getting smaller and smaller for whatever reasons.  I may not have denied Jesus, but am I fulfilling my calling?  I heard Jesus calling me into ministry some years ago, saying “Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” and “Feed my sheep.”  Am I fulfilling my call?  Am I doing well?  Or, just doing ok?  Not even ok?  I don’t know.  I mean, I am not sure if I am doing well.  When I think of these things, I have my own “dark night of the soul.”

According to the text, it is clear that Peter, in his own “dark night of the soul” when he denied his Lord, has been forgiven.  And he is being given new responsibilities by Jesus to tend to his followers.  Even when you and I fail, even when we find ourselves in our own “dark night of the soul,” the Good News is Jesus forgives and continues to call us to be part of his flock and to tend his sheep.

For Peter and the disciples, hope came in the morning – in the presence of Jesus, in following Jesus, and in being given the charge to keep on following.  In the midst of the dark night, I still believe that God is there.  It is often only after the darkness that we can distinguish the light of God in our midst.  When we think we are alone – God is there.

When the soul feels numb and nothing is going right, maybe tossing your net to the right side – the other side – is what you need to try.  When you can’t see Jesus on the shoreline, remember that even his closest followers didn’t recognize him in the beginning.  When you believe you have hit rock bottom or think you’re on your way there, seek the help from God who is there with you throughout your journey. When you think you’ve denied Jesus too many times, remember that even Simon Peter got another chance to serve God.  When you can’t do anything else but sit in despair, please know that you are not alone.

Lastly, in our text, “follow me” is not about simply walking the shoreline with Jesus – it is a long term commitment that is transformational.  It is a life changing kind of following.  When in doubt, Jesus says, “Follow me.”  Let’s keep following one step at a time, because the morning is coming and hope is there.  Let’s keep following one day at a time, because the morning is coming and healing is there.  

In order to follow, we need to eat.  At the lakeshore long ago, Jesus invited his disciples to eat with him.  The English word, companion, comes from a Latin word meaning “to break bread with.”  A companion is one with whom we share bread.  Jesus chose a meal as the way in which his followers would continue to remember and commune with him.  This morning, our Lord prepares a meal and invites us to break bread with him.  As companions in Christ, let us join together remembering this is a meal of reconciliation, forgiveness and healing.  Amen.

Photo by Jacek Raniowski on Unsplash