Third Sunday of Easter (Year C)

 Third Sunday of Easter May 04, 2025

Acts 5:27b-32, 40b-41; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

(image courtesy: Google)

A little girl was ill in hospital with a rare blood disorder and was badly in need of a blood donor but a match could not be found. As a last resort, her six-year-old brother was checked as a match and much to everyone’s relief, he was. Both his mother and Doctor sat the little boy down and explained how they would like his blood to help his sister so she would not die. The little boy waited a few moments then asked if he could think about it. It wasn't the reaction the mother or Doctor expected but they agreed.  The following day the little boy sat in front of the Doctor with his mother and said he agreed to give his sister what she needed. The hospital staff moved quickly for his sister was fading quite fast. So the little boy could understand what was happening, he was placed in a bed next to his sister and so the transfusion began. Quickly, the colour and life began flooding back into the little girl and everyone was overjoyed. The little boy turned to the Doctor and quietly asked, "How long will it be before I die?" You see, the little boy thought that by giving his blood, he was giving his own life.

The readings today provide profound insights into the nature of our faith, the call to discipleship, and the hope that arises from the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Peter says, "I am going fishing." It might sound like a casual decision, but it reflects something deeper: a desire to go back to what he knows, perhaps to find comfort in the familiar. After the tumultuous events of the crucifixion and the confusion of the resurrection, Peter goes back to the sea—where it all began.

And yet, they catch nothing. It is a night of fruitlessness. This emptiness is not just about empty nets; it mirrors the spiritual emptiness we feel when we try to live without reference to Christ. We all have these moments—after failure, guilt, or disappointment—when we are tempted to retreat into the old ways, into work or distractions, avoiding the pain and uncertainty. But Jesus doesn’t leave us there.

“Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach.” The Risen Lord appears at dawn—a powerful image of hope. He comes not in thunder or majesty, but quietly, gently, as He so often does. And what does He say? “Children, have you caught anything?” It is not a rebuke but an invitation—a recognition of their struggle.

Then comes the miracle: when they obey His instruction to cast the net on the right side, the net is filled with 153 large fish. This number, often interpreted as symbolic of the nations of the world, reminds us of the universality of the mission Jesus gives. But what’s striking is that they only succeed when they listen to the Lord. He is reminding them—and us—that fruitfulness in mission, in life, comes only in communion with Him.

This simple invitation from Jesus is rich in tenderness. Imagine the scene: the fire burning on the shore, the aroma of bread and fish, the quiet morning light, and the disciples—confused, awed, and probably still emotionally raw. Jesus, the Lord of the universe, makes them breakfast.

This is not just a warm gesture. It is Eucharistic. He feeds them—not only physically but spiritually. He reminds them of the Last Supper, and anticipates every Eucharist we celebrate. In feeding them, He restores their strength and prepares them for mission.

How often do we overlook these small, gentle moments of God’s presence in our lives? Jesus comes not only in dramatic miracles but in ordinary acts of care—in a shared meal, a warm word, an invitation to rest.

After breakfast, Jesus takes Peter aside. This is the heart of the Gospel today. Three times, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” It mirrors Peter’s three denials during the Passion. Jesus is not shaming Peter—He is healing him.

Each time Peter answers, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you,” and Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs... Tend my sheep... Feed my sheep.” Jesus is reinstating Peter—not just as a follower, but as a shepherd. This is the foundation of Peter’s leadership and the pastoral mission of the Church. Love for Christ must lead to service of His people.

But the Greek in the original text adds depth: Jesus first asks, “Do you agape me?”—using the word for divine, unconditional love. Peter responds, “I philia you”—a more human, affectionate love. Jesus meets Peter where he is, not where he “should” be. And the third time, Jesus lowers the bar—He asks, “Do you philia me?” Jesus accepts even the imperfect love of Peter and entrusts him with His flock.

This is grace. This is mercy. Jesus does not demand perfect love before giving mission—He accepts us, heals us, and then sends us.

Peter had failed. He denied the Lord in His hour of need. And yet, here Jesus is—not reminding him of his sin, but reaffirming his place in the mission. This should be a profound encouragement for all of us. No matter how far we’ve fallen, how deep our shame, the Risen Lord comes not to condemn but to restore. Do you love Me? That is the only question that matters.

When we say yes—even haltingly, even imperfectly—He entrusts us with His work.

“Follow Me”

The Gospel ends with Jesus saying again to Peter, “Follow me.” These are the same words He used at the beginning of His ministry, when He first called Peter by the shore. Now, after the cross and the resurrection, He repeats them—but this time with deeper meaning. This following will cost Peter his life. But it will also fulfill his deepest purpose.

Discipleship is not about perfection; it is about fidelity. It is about loving Jesus, being fed by Him, and feeding others in turn. It is about walking with Him—not just in Galilee, but to the cross and beyond.

Dear friends, this Gospel is a beautiful tapestry of forgiveness, vocation, and love. It reminds us that:

Christ meets us in our weariness and failure.

He restores us not through judgment but through relationship.

Our love for Him, even if imperfect, is enough for Him to entrust us with His mission.

So today, let us hear again those words as if for the first time: Do you love Me? Let us respond with Peter: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” And then, with renewed hearts, let us go forth to feed His sheep—to live lives of love, mercy, and witness just like that little boy in the story ready to give his life for his sister. 

Happy Sunday