I was mooching round the garden early this morning, trying to concentrate my thoughts on holy things (as distinct from my current distractions), when I realised that today's gospel is John 21. There is a great deal in verses 1 to 19 worth commenting on but I leave that to the learned. I am much more interested in Peter's problem.

When the disciple Jesus loved said that the man on the seashore was the Lord, Peter panicked, grabbed his cloak and jumped into the water. (I do not think the conventionally pious explanation, that Peter jumped off the boat in order to get to Jesus more quickly, is anywhere near the truth. Except when becalmed, one does not leap from a boat to reach shore quickly, one stays on it; and if you were Peter, after that terrible betrayal at the trial, I think you'd be alarmed at the thought of meeting him again.) Peter wants to escape Jesus, just as Adam fled at the sound of the Lord's voice in the Garden of Eden. Like Adam, Peter is conscious of his nakedness and hopes his cloak will cover not only his body but also his confusion and shame. He has yet to learn that he cannot escape nor does trying to cover up anything succeed. He is forced to confront his deepest fear: Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, here and now on the seashore.

We shall never know what Peter saw in Jesus' eyes when he reached the shore. Forgiveness? Acceptance? Pain? Characteristically, he bustles about, bringing part of the catch to the barbecue; but there is no escape. The questions come, one after the other, but always with the same theme, "do you love me?" Peter answers truthfully, with a mounting sense of despair that he will ever be able to put things right and assure Jesus of his love. That is precisely his problem, and often it is ours too. WE want to put things right but have to learn, over and over again, that our betrayals and sins are "put right" by the Lord. Yes, we have to consent to his action, but it is he who takes the initiative, he alone who can redeem.

Peter experienced the Lord's forgiveness but it came with the command, "feed my sheep." For us too forgiveness is accompanied by a mission to pass on that forgiveness to others. How we do so may be a puzzle to us, but it should not be a problem. That particular problem was solved two thousand years ago beside the sea of Galilee.

A brief podcast on vocation will be found on the podcast page.