To the House of Commons, Winston Churchill once said, “Nothing is more dangerous in wartime than to live in the temperamental atmosphere of the Gallup Poll.”
Nonetheless—he went on—some have argued that “leaders should keep their ears to the ground.” To this suggestion, Churchill wryly answered, “All I can say is that the British nation will find it very hard to look up to leaders who are detected in that somewhat ungainly posture.”[1] For Churchill, political leaders too enamored of popular praise or too easily swayed by present popular sentiment were not very good leaders. Rather they were panderers and opportunists; and, actually, in failing to lead, they proved themselves false servants of the people and counterfeit stewards of the common good. Pope Benedict XVI, long ago, expressed a similar sentiment in regard to leadership in the Church: “a bishop,” he said, “whose only concern is not to have any problems…is an image I find repulsive.”[2] Leadership, political or sacred, requires an element of personal resolve and strength, committed to genuine service and not rank ambition. In the Church, Saint Gregory the Great called pastoral leadership the “art of arts,” a deadly ministry for anyone desirous of his own glory and not the glory of God alone—deadly even for the laity because, as Gregory said, when those in pastoral leadership “lose the light,” then “certainly those who follow are bowed down.”[3]
But, of course, good leadership and good government are easier said than done, and even the best leaders catch all sorts of flak from friend and foe alike. Also, it belongs to our good democratic heritage to criticize and ridicule those in leadership, political or otherwise. It’s part of our tradition to deride and lampoon those in leadership. Like Twain, when he said, “Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.”[4] It’s a venerable and ancient tradition, but one that should, of course, be constrained by some sense of compassion and decency, some limits. The New Testament counsels respect for the clergy but also prayer for our political leaders, and perhaps we Catholics would do both our country and our Church some good if we were, in these contentious days, to recommit ourselves to these honorable things.[5]
Returning, however, to the question of leadership, today’s gospel invites us to reflect upon the character of such sacred authority, and in turn upon the virtues necessary to live our lives actually transformed by the resurrection of Christ. Last week we heard of the risen Lord among his disciples saying, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”[6] Seeing the now glorious wounds of Christ, the disciples are inspired and made apostles. From the Passion of Jesus comes our peace and our purpose. We are made collaborators, as Paul said, in the “ministry of reconciliation.”[7] Today, however, in the story of Jesus, Peter and the other disciples eating breakfast on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, we’re brought to consider just what this mission of the apostles looks like on the ground. Last week we heard from the risen Lord that we have a mission. This week we must learn about the character of that mission. And this is the point, I think, of the dialogue between Jesus and Peter.
For Saint Augustine, this whole chapter at the end of John’s Gospel taught something deep about the “mystery of the Church.”[8] He, like so many other ancient commentators, relished in the symbolism of the number of fish caught, the role of Peter in relation to the other apostles, and in the thrice-repeated question of Jesus: “Do you love me?” This is obviously a story about the Church, about the destiny of the Church, and about roles within the Church. For me, however, the more interesting questions are those involving the relationship between love and shepherding, or as I’ve been calling it, sacred leadership.
Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” three times as a sort of rehabilitation of his earlier threefold denial. And each time Peter answers, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you,” Jesus commands him to “feed” and “tend” his sheep.[9] Now the Greek words used for “feed” and “tend” are explicitly pastoral and political, and the text is obviously meaning to say something about the character of pastoral leadership. And what it seems to say, most simply stated, is that to serve the people of God, the Christian minister should first love God, and love him most. But even more than this, the Christian minister ought always to remember that the people he serves and the folks he leads belong to God and are therefore sacred and not to be exploited or abused. This command to Peter is both an invitation and a warning. Again, to follow Augustine, it’s as if Jesus is saying to Peter, “feed my sheep as mine, and not as thine own; seek my glory in them, and not thine own…my gain, and not thine.”[10] In Christian ministry we should seek the glory of God and not our glory. This should be the character of Christian ministry from Pope Francis all the way down to the lowliest deacon. “Mine, not thine!” Jesus says to each one of us who dare to stand before you as servants of the Gospel. Sometimes, we the ordained don’t remember this or don’t act like this is true, and woe betide us if we do not reform and do not serve our people with genuine love and godly fear, for we will have to give an account one day. The Bible on this is crystal clear.
But, of course, this passage doesn’t apply exclusively to ordained ministry. It also says something about the character of every Christian in leadership. What does Jesus say to you teachers about your students? “Mine, not thine!” What does Jesus say to you doctors and nurses about your patients? “Mine, not thine!” What does Jesus say to those of you in business about your clients and customers? “Mine, not thine!” Think of how your life would be different—how this world would be different—if, every time you encountered someone, you reminded yourself, “This brother is a child of God.” Think of how much grace God would shed on the world through each and every one of us. “Mine, not thine.” It’s how we finally love God and our neighbor genuinely and well.
I speak last to parents. This truth applies in a special way to you. “Mine, not thine!” One of the worse sins you can commit against your children is to think that you own them. Your children have not been given to you to fulfill some personal desire. They’ve not been given to you to keep the family line or the family business going. None of that. You have been given children so that you may give them back to God as saints and servants. Now, what does this look like practically? We can be pious and sentimental and say all the right things at this point and mean absolutely nothing, or we can be real. What does this mean concretely? Well, it means this: you must take real steps and be consistent about exposing your children in a healthy way to the true faith of Jesus Christ. This is what God will ask of you at the end of it all: not what schools did you get them into, but what did you do to see to it that they love God, serve the Church and serve their sisters and brothers? When you brought your children to the Church for baptism, the priest or the deacon asked you, “Do you clearly understand what you are undertaking?”[11] At the judgment, you will be asked what you did with that understanding; and I speak to every parent here (and to myself): this will be the question of our judgment, and we had better tend to it now because then, then there will be nothing we can do. I’m telling you the truth and no fable.
And to all of us, not just parents—to every person here: Like Peter, Jesus asks each one of us, “Do you love me?” And like Peter, we’ve failed in the past, and, like him, we probably only half-understand what Jesus wants from us. But none of that matters. Jesus isn’t asking us about our failures or about how much we know. He’s asking us if we love him. Like Peter, weak and struggling, I hope you can say, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And, if you can say this—“Yes, Lord, I love you.”—then tend the sheep that are in your care be they children, family, friends, clients, or coworkers. And know that they have been given to you by God and know that it is a sacred trust. “Mine, not thine.” Love and serve like this. Amen.
[1] The Quotable Winston Churchill, 107
[2] Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Salt of the Earth, 82
[3] Gregory the Great, Pastoral Care 1.1
[4] The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain, 23
[5] Hebrews 13:17; 1 Timothy 2:1
[6] John 20:21
[7] 2 Corinthians 5:18
[8] Augustine, Tractates on John’s Gospel 122.1
[9] John 21:15-17
[10] Augustine, Tractates on John’s Gospel 123.5
[11] Rite of Baptism for Children
© 2022 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield
