My brothers and sisters in Christ...
Sometimes, there are moments in life—small, quiet moments—that change everything. Moments that define us. Moments that reveal who we really are... and who God really is.
(For 1st Communion): For these young people, this is one of those days. Because today, they will make a connection to the Lord in a way that becomes for them the lifeline to their spiritual life and one day, we hope brings them to heaven. They are receiving their First Holy Communion.
Today, for the first time, they will be able to receive the Body of the Lord Jesus in the Eucharist.
And as they know and we know, Jesus is really present in the appearance of a small piece of unleavened bread?
And how do we know this?
Because Jesus said so. At the Last Supper, Jesus tells the apostles, “Take this, all of you, and eat it. For this IS my Body given up for you. Do this in remembrance of me. Not a symbol. Not “pretend this is my body.”
He said “THIS IS MY BODY.”
And so we believe that Jesus instituted our receiving His True Body and Blood, and we rejoice with these young people as today begins the next stage of their lives in the sacraments.
It truly is a moment that defines and changes us.
And speaking of defining life-changing moments, today, in John’s Gospel, we see Peter again.
Not Peter the bold apostle… Not Peter the rock… But Peter the man—fragile, broken… and because of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus, beautifully redeemed.
And the symbol for these life-changing moments is… a charcoal fire.
How many times do you think that in the entire Bible there is specific mention of a charcoal fire? Only twice. And both times? It’s Peter.
Both times? Life-changing.
Let’s go back… To the first charcoal fire.
It’s Holy Thursday night. Peter had just sworn, “Lord, I will lay down my life for you!” He meant it.
But fear is powerful.
Jesus is arrested. And Peter... runs.
Later, he sneaks into the courtyard—close, but not too close. He stands by a fire. A charcoal fire.
Someone asks, “Aren’t you one of His disciples?” And Peter… denies it.
Again—“Aren’t you with Jesus?” Again… denial.
And then a third time— And the rooster crows.
Jesus turns. Their eyes meet.
Peter stumbles away from that charcoal fire... and weeps. Bitterly. Ashamed. Broken.
That first fire… it’s familiar, isn’t it?
We’ve all stood by that fire. The fire of compromise... The warmth of comfort in things of this world…
Choosing silence instead of truth. Sin instead of faithfulness.
And like Peter… we walk away… into the dark.
But thanks be to God... There’s a second fire.
That’s where we are in today’s Gospel. It’s after the Resurrection… and Jesus appears on the shore.
The disciples are fishing again. Peter’s unsure of himself, unsure of his place.
But then John says, “It is the Lord.”
And Peter—this time—jumps out of the boat. He swims. He runs. He doesn't hesitate. Instead of running away from the Lord, he runs to Jesus.
And there—on the shore—Jesus waits.
And what has Jesus done? He’s made... a charcoal fire.
Same fire… Different purpose. Not a fire of denial… But a fire of mercy.
Jesus cooks breakfast. And then He turns to Peter.
There’s no anger in his voice. No shame. No punishment. Just a question.
“Simon, son of John... do you love me?”
And Peter says, “Lord, you know that I love you.”
Three denials... Now, three declarations of love.
And after each one, Jesus says: “Feed my sheep.”
He doesn’t just forgive Peter—He restores him as the new shepherd, the leader of his church. He commissions him.
That’s what Jesus does, brothers and sisters.
He meets us where we are—not to condemn, but to rebuild us.
That second charcoal fire? That’s the fire of mercy, the fire of forgiveness, the fire of divine love.
And so I ask you today: Which fire are you sitting beside?
Are you warming yourself by the fire of comfort, sin, compromise —while hiding your faith?
If so... Don’t despair. Run to the second fire.
Because Jesus is still building that fire today.
And guess where He’s building it? Right here. On this altar.
The Sacraments are our second charcoal fire.
It’s where Jesus feeds us—not with fish and bread—but with His Body and Blood and his words of absolution - “I absolve you of your sins.”
It’s here that He looks into our eyes and says, “Do you love me?”
And if you say yes—even weakly, even tearfully—He says, “Then come. Feed my sheep.”
Remember what happened after Jesus tells Peter to bring him some of the fish? Peter hauls in a net full —153 of them. That’s a pretty specific number isn’t it.
The Church Fathers said that number represents the whole world—every nation, every race, every person.
Peter, the broken one, is now the gatherer. The fisher of souls.
And this brings us to the First Reading from Acts of the Apostles.
There, we read something astonishing: The apostles rejoiced to suffer dishonor for the sake of the Name.
They were flogged, humiliated... and they rejoiced.
Why? Because they knew the cross wasn’t the end of the story.
They had sat at that second fire.
Brothers and sisters, we live in a world that still dishes out dishonor for the Name of Jesus.
Maybe not whips—but ridicule, exclusion, legal pressure, being mocked in media, being misunderstood at work.
But if we’ve sat at the second fire… we can rejoice.
Because suffering for Christ unites us to His cross… and to His glory.
It shapes us. It sharpens us. It reminds us that we’re living for Heaven, not here.
God made us for Heaven. God made us to become saints.
That’s really the sole purpose of our lives.
If you live your life and don’t become a saint, nothing else matters – nothing else you've said or done or accomplished matters.
If you don’t become a saint and go to heaven, you have failed.
French Catholic novelist Leon Bloy said, "The only real sadness, the only real failure, the only great tragedy in life, is not to become a saint".
Become saints. Let’s join the angels and the living creatures and the elders in the Book of Revelation that we heard, crying out “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength, honor and glory and blessing.”
So let your failures become the places of your transformation.
Like Peter, let your denial become the doorway to your mission.
Let your shame be met with His mercy.
Jesus is saying today. “Come to the Eucharist. Come to the second fire.”
Let Him feed you. Let Him forgive you. Let Him send you.
Because you are not a hopeless case. You are not too far gone. You are called.
And your story… like Peter’s... is only just beginning.
In just a few moments, we will gather around this altar.
Let that altar become for you the second charcoal fire.
Meet Jesus there. Hear Him ask, “Do you love me?”
And from your heart, say, “Yes, Lord… you know… that I love you.”
Then let us go forth. And feed His sheep.