To Simon Peter, and to most of us, it’s a strange question. We pretty much know if someone loves us before we would need to ask. Peter responds to each of Jesus’ queries, “you know that I love you,” a little bit hurt that his friend feels the need to question of his loyalty. But Jesus isn’t asking the question because he is unsure of Peter’s love; he is the Son of God, after all, and quite capable of deciphering the emotions of his disciples. While Peter’s previous denial of his connection to JC might cause a mortal man to doubt the strength of this friendship, Jesus is the original expert at letting bygones be bygones. So then, why does Jesus ask Peter to confirm his love?

Jesus’ interrogation of Peter is more a rhetorical device than anything, as if he’s saying to Pete: “Ok, you claim to love me, now prove it. Feed My lambs. Tend my sheep.” It’s the pastoral imagery we’ve come to expect from the Good Book, perfect for a framed painting or perhaps a children’s coloring book.

So what exactly is Jesus asking Peter, and us modern day disciples, to do? I’m no Bible scholar by any means, but I have been through enough advanced English courses to know my way around prose analysis. From what I gather of the New Testament, Jesus has two methods of teaching: first, there’s the preacher, giving crowds, be they of disciples or commoners, parables to mull over, speaking in riddles about the kingdom of heaven. Then, there’s my preferred Jesus, the one-on-one conversationalist that we see here with Peter. Unlike Jesus’ charges to the whole gang of followers, this commandment to care for others reads more like a personal favor, a promise you’d make to a friend.

We’ve established a proper background and can now examine the red-letter words themselves. “Feed my sheep.” While I’m sure Jesus was a big animal lover, I’m going to assume that this is playing off the whole shepherd metaphor we’re so very fond of here in the Christian faith. We, the followers of Christ, are given the responsibility to shepherd our fellow man in his name.

Upon reading this passage for the first time with new eyes, I was a little bit surprised. I mean, you’d think, given all the billboards I’ve seen telling me that skipping church on Sunday will earn me a one-way ticket to Hell, that Jesus would have at least mentioned this institution we hold so dear. But alas, instead of ordering Peter to make rows of wooden benches and print words for groups of people to creepily read in unison, our Lord just asks him to show a little love to those with which he lives.

Now as far as sheep-feeding on a broad level goes, we do a pretty good job, so go ahead, pat yourselves on the back for all your mission work. But what about our individual relationships? Jesus is speaking to Peter less as a teacher and more as a bro- just within this church, how close are we really with each other? Certainly it’s unreasonable to expect a utopian coexistence of perpetual fraternity. But we could be a little nicer- churches have notorious reputations as centers of gossip. An increasing number of folks are getting sick of Christian hospitality turning into Christian hypocrisy. To be honest, meaningful relationships terrify me-I can count on one hand the number of friends with which I have conversations deeper than a smattering of pop culture references. Those exchanges have their place, but dining on witticisms alone leaves all of us sheep hungry. Jesus asks us to take a step, nay a leap, outside of our social comfort zones and invest in each other’s lives.

What better place to start then the church? We profess a doctrine of welcoming, of “fellowship and followship.” So give your neighbor a handshake, a hug, perhaps an affectionate back pat. The next time you share a reciprocal “how are you?” don’t be afraid to be honest if it’s less than swell, and take a genuine interest in the other’s response. Pleasantries and civility are great, but honesty is the basis of a strong relationship with God and each other. Feelings are going to be hurt; it’s inevitable in any congregation of human beings. What matters is how we use our capacity to heal others’ pain. Jesus left us in charge of his flock. Let’s make him proud and leave no sheep hungry