Acts 5:27b-32, 40b-41; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19
Homily: “Do You Love Me?” – The Question That Builds the Church
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
Today’s Gospel takes us to the serene shores of Galilee, where the Risen Christ gently rehabilitates Peter—the very one who denied Him three times. It is not a moment of condemnation, but of commission. Peter’s threefold denial is matched by a threefold invitation: “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” This dialogue is not merely a personal reconciliation, but the divine blueprint for pastoral leadership. Love becomes the criterion for authority in the Church.
In these days, the Universal Church stands at the threshold of another turning point—the election of a new Pope. We watch, we pray, we wait. And perhaps, like Peter, the one whom Christ is calling feels unworthy, even hesitant, to carry the keys once more. But the call is never about perfection. It is about love. And love, as we hear in today’s Gospel, is not sentimental—it is sacrificial, patient, and resilient. Love, for Christ, must be lived out through service: “Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep.”
This moment recalls a tender and powerful scene from Fiddler on the Roof, where Tevye asks his wife Golda, “Do you love me?” Her answer is not poetic but practical: “For 25 years, I’ve washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house…” And then, with deep honesty, she concludes, “If that’s not love, what is?” It is a love proven not in words, but in endurance, in presence, in shared struggle and faithfulness. It is the kind of love the Church now requires of its new shepherd.
In the first reading from Acts, we see Peter transformed. The same Peter who trembled before a servant girl now stands before the Sanhedrin with a holy boldness. How? Not by his own strength. It is the Holy Spirit—the Advocate—that has remade him. Peter has learned that to love Jesus is to obey Him above all, and to lead with courage shaped by compassion.
This Gospel is not only a foundation for Petrine ministry; it is a spiritual mirror for each of us. Christ’s question echoes across the centuries to all believers, but especially to those entrusted with leadership: “Do you love Me?” Not: “Are you skilled?” Not: “Are you flawless?” But: “Do you love Me?” In that love is both calling and cost.
As we await the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the election of a new pope, let us recall what kind of shepherd the Church needs today: not a CEO, not a political strategist, but a man whose heart echoes Peter’s, whose yes to Christ is forged through humility, suffering, and fidelity. Someone who has met the Risen Lord not only on the mountain of glory but in the dark night of the soul.
The Gospel shows us that Jesus does not wait for Peter to come to Him. It is Jesus who initiates the encounter—who goes to the lakeshore of Peter’s disappointment. So too, in this era of ecclesial uncertainty, Christ still takes the initiative. He finds His Church again and again—not in triumphal processions, but in quiet breakfasts at the edge of failure, in whispered reassurances beside dying beds, in the stillness of conclave prayer.
The risen Christ is never far. He is in our joys and successes, yes—but also, mysteriously, in our suffering, confusion, and waiting. Like Saul on the road to Damascus, sometimes we are flattened so we can finally see. Like Peter, we are humbled to be made holy.
Let us not miss the divine fingerprints in our own lives. When a job promotion surprises us, when relationships are healed, when grace arrives unannounced—do we recognize Christ preparing breakfast on our shores? And when the storms come—through illness, loss, or scandal—do we still believe He walks among the waves?
Cardinal Bernardin once said that it was cancer that made him most aware of the presence of the Risen Christ in his life. And Desmond Tutu, nearing the end of his life, testified that suffering gave him new eyes—to see joy in a grandchild’s laugh, holiness in a drop of dew. Perhaps, like Tevye and Golda, we too will discover that love—true, enduring love—is forged in the mundane, the difficult, the daily fidelity to our vocations.
So as the College of Cardinals gathers under the dome of St. Peter’s, let our prayers not be passive. Let us invoke the Spirit with urgency and hope, trusting that Christ, who once walked along Galilee’s shore, still walks the corridors of the Vatican. And just as He asked Peter, so He asks the next successor: “Do you love Me?” Let that answer be the foundation on which the Church is built anew.
Amen.