Goodish
John 21: 1-19
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
May 4, 2025
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| Photo of the back of my denim jacket with a patch of Mary and the Magnificat from benwildflower.com |
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| Photo of the front of my denim jacket with buttons on it: Clergy for Choice, Pride Mom, Black Lives Matter, Moms Demand Action, among others. I'm wearing a t-shirt that reads "The Gospel is Antifascist". |
The Saturday before Easter I attended a protest at the New Castle County airport in opposition to Avelo Airlines’ contract with the U.S. government to transport deported immigrants without due process. As I parked the car and walked up to the folks standing on the sidewalk, I was having an introverted moment, wondering would I know anyone, where would I stand, would we encounter any hostility. I was still feeling a little raw after the emotional vote on the end-of-life options bill only two days before and also grieving the reason I was there, so I had on what I tongue-in-cheek call my battle gear: a clergy collar and my denim jacket with buttons for all my causes and Mother Mary stitched on the back.
I managed to find one acquaintance—after all, it’s Delaware—and we alternated holding our signs above and below each other. We were chatting about this and that when we heard this loud, angry voice. We turned to see a tall White man walking down the sidewalk, trying to get the crowd not just energized but riled up. At all of these protests we have been reminded that these are peaceful protests and we are instructed to not engage with hecklers. He was part of the protest but using inflammatory hateful language. At one point he walked in front of us, railing against “those people” who want to get rid of immigrants and our civil rights. He then pointed to his sign, to a letter T made to look like a cross, and he yelled angrily, “And they hide behind THIS, they hide behind their hate disguised as their Christian faith!”
At which point I lost it. In my still-raw emotional state my lizard brain was triggered and I roared back, “HEY! That’s me you’re yelling about too! That’s my work you’re tearing down as much as anything else. I’m out here BECAUSE of my Christian faith! Now knock it off!” Not my best moment. We kept our distance for the rest of the protest.
As I was driving home, it was then that my better angels kicked in and I realized that it would’ve been better if I had asked him questions, like “Tell me why you feel that way?” “What, if any, has been your experience of the Christian faith?” Looking back on it I can almost hear Jesus saying, “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep.”
What made Peter’s denial of Jesus so painful to Peter was that from his point of view Jesus doubted Peter’s love for him. Peter probably thought that they could just let bygones be bygones, but instead Jesus holds Peter accountable for his actions. Jesus isn’t punitive with Peter but he doesn’t let him off the hook either. Unconditional love doesn’t mean anything goes but rather my love for you doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble. Unconditional love doesn’t expect us to be perfect.
It’s impossible for us to be good all the time. Any one of us can lead with self-interest instead of our hearts. Any one of us can behave like our actions are our own and have no effect on others. Any one of us can become like the very monster we’re fighting against. We’re human. Expecting that we will be good people all the time can prevent us from entering the fray, so we don’t ruin our reputation for being good all the time.
Jesus doesn’t need us to be good all the time. Even though he knows we will deny him more than once, Jesus needs us to feed his sheep. Social scientist Dolly Chugh says that while we are trying to be better people, we accept that we are a work in progress. We’re goodish. We don’t punish ourselves but we don’t let ourselves off the hook either. We repair. We do better next time. That’s what this Table is all about. We show up goodish and accept that that’s how everyone else shows up too. Jesus call us by name and asks us “Do you love me? Then feed my sheep.” Our goodishness doesn’t change the mission. The mission is the same: disrupting our lives for the vulnerable and their wholeness.
The next day, I looked up the protest in a Facebook group to see photos of the signs people held. And lo and behold, there was a post from the tall White loud angry man. So I liked the post and he sent me a friend request which I accepted. I sent him a message apologizing for my behavior the day before. He too apologized, thanked me for reaching out, wished me a happy Easter, and said he would be retiring the sign he was carrying. We’re both looking forward to seeing each other again at another protest. After all, it’s Delaware. No heroes, just a couple of hotheads who stepped in it. Two goodish people trying to learn to do better next time. Amen.
I managed to find one acquaintance—after all, it’s Delaware—and we alternated holding our signs above and below each other. We were chatting about this and that when we heard this loud, angry voice. We turned to see a tall White man walking down the sidewalk, trying to get the crowd not just energized but riled up. At all of these protests we have been reminded that these are peaceful protests and we are instructed to not engage with hecklers. He was part of the protest but using inflammatory hateful language. At one point he walked in front of us, railing against “those people” who want to get rid of immigrants and our civil rights. He then pointed to his sign, to a letter T made to look like a cross, and he yelled angrily, “And they hide behind THIS, they hide behind their hate disguised as their Christian faith!”
At which point I lost it. In my still-raw emotional state my lizard brain was triggered and I roared back, “HEY! That’s me you’re yelling about too! That’s my work you’re tearing down as much as anything else. I’m out here BECAUSE of my Christian faith! Now knock it off!” Not my best moment. We kept our distance for the rest of the protest.
As I was driving home, it was then that my better angels kicked in and I realized that it would’ve been better if I had asked him questions, like “Tell me why you feel that way?” “What, if any, has been your experience of the Christian faith?” Looking back on it I can almost hear Jesus saying, “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep.”
What made Peter’s denial of Jesus so painful to Peter was that from his point of view Jesus doubted Peter’s love for him. Peter probably thought that they could just let bygones be bygones, but instead Jesus holds Peter accountable for his actions. Jesus isn’t punitive with Peter but he doesn’t let him off the hook either. Unconditional love doesn’t mean anything goes but rather my love for you doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble. Unconditional love doesn’t expect us to be perfect.
It’s impossible for us to be good all the time. Any one of us can lead with self-interest instead of our hearts. Any one of us can behave like our actions are our own and have no effect on others. Any one of us can become like the very monster we’re fighting against. We’re human. Expecting that we will be good people all the time can prevent us from entering the fray, so we don’t ruin our reputation for being good all the time.
Jesus doesn’t need us to be good all the time. Even though he knows we will deny him more than once, Jesus needs us to feed his sheep. Social scientist Dolly Chugh says that while we are trying to be better people, we accept that we are a work in progress. We’re goodish. We don’t punish ourselves but we don’t let ourselves off the hook either. We repair. We do better next time. That’s what this Table is all about. We show up goodish and accept that that’s how everyone else shows up too. Jesus call us by name and asks us “Do you love me? Then feed my sheep.” Our goodishness doesn’t change the mission. The mission is the same: disrupting our lives for the vulnerable and their wholeness.
The next day, I looked up the protest in a Facebook group to see photos of the signs people held. And lo and behold, there was a post from the tall White loud angry man. So I liked the post and he sent me a friend request which I accepted. I sent him a message apologizing for my behavior the day before. He too apologized, thanked me for reaching out, wished me a happy Easter, and said he would be retiring the sign he was carrying. We’re both looking forward to seeing each other again at another protest. After all, it’s Delaware. No heroes, just a couple of hotheads who stepped in it. Two goodish people trying to learn to do better next time. Amen.
Benediction – enfleshed.com
Grace sends us to be brave!
Not to live perfectly but to live earnestly our beliefs.
Striving to take care of each other.
Committing to repair when we do harm.
Seeking to ever deepen into the embrace of love and liberation.
Let us spend our lives in this holy practice and know that God is near. Amen.
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