Today’s Scripture readings take us deep into the heart of what it means to be a disciple of the Risen Lord. They speak not only of inspiring encounters with Jesus after His resurrection, but also of the transformation of the call for courage, self-awareness, reconciliation, and, most of all, love.
Let us begin with that beautiful scene from the Gospel of John. The disciples, confused, disheartened, and perhaps ashamed to return to Galilee. After all the wonders and promises of the past three years, they’re back to their old lives, fishing once again. Isn’t this an image of what we, too, sometimes do? When things don’t go as we expected in our journey of faith, we return to what is familiar and comfortable, even if it no longer fulfills us.
But then, just as dawn begins to break, they see a stranger on the shore. They don’t yet recognize Him, but the Word speaks: “Children, you have no fish, have you?” What a tender, almost fatherly voice! And from that question springs a miracle: an overflowing net, a full heart, and the sudden realization, “It is the Lord!”
Dear Brothers and Sisters, how often in our lives does Jesus come to us unrecognized? In a kind word, in the gentle concern of a friend, in the need of a stranger, or in the fatigue of daily work. Like the disciples, we must learn to recognize Him, not just in moments of spiritual ecstasy, but in the quiet, hidden corners of our lives — in the very ordinariness of the everyday.
And then there’s Peter. Impulsive, flawed, beloved Peter. He jumps into the water to reach Jesus, but not before covering his nakedness, his guilt, his shame, his denial. It reminds us of Adam and Eve, hiding from God in the garden after they sinned.
Jesus doesn’t scold him. No, He prepares a meal. Bread and fish. A meal of welcome, reconciliation, and Eucharistic love.
And then comes that poignant moment, the threefold question: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Each question erases a denial. Each answer deepens the bond. “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.” And with that, Peter is not just forgiven he is commissioned: “Feed my sheep.” The once fearful fisherman becomes the shepherd.
This is not just Peter’s story. It is ours. We too fall. We too deny, forget, or fail the Lord. But Jesus doesn’t abandon us. He meets us on our own shorelines, in our own early mornings of failure and fatigue. And He invites us not just to be forgiven, but to be sent. To feed His sheep. To be His hands, His voice, His heart in the world.
And this mission, my friends, is not for a select few. It is not just for bishops, priests, or religious. It belongs to every parent who teaches their child to pray, to every worker who lives their faith with integrity, to every neighbor who chooses compassion over indifference.
The apostles, now emboldened by the Spirit, proclaim Jesus fearlessly. They are warned, beaten, imprisoned. But they rejoice. Why? Because they have been found worthy to suffer for His name.
Are we willing to do the same? True discipleship is not always easy. To live and proclaim the Gospel is to go against the grain of a world that often values power over service, pleasure over sacrifice, and silence over truth. But if we are to be authentic followers of Jesus, we must be prepared like Him to love even when it costs, to serve even when it hurts, to speak truth even when it’s dangerous.
Yes, we will be misunderstood. Yes, some may mock or reject us. But we do not walk alone. The Risen Christ is with us in Word, in Sacrament, and in the poor, the stranger, the suffering. He is with us on every shore, in every shadow, in every net we cast.
So today, let us open our eyes to recognize Him. Let us open our hearts to love Him. And let us open our lives to serve Him. He says, again and again: “Do you love me? Then feed my sheep.”
Father Vimal O.M.I
