Anybody
here like to fish? Tell me about
that . . . what do you like about it?
What’s fishing—for you—all about? what do you do?
My
Papa loved to fish. When he wasn’t
driving a maintainer—building roads, or working in his garden—tilling,
planting, weeding, shooting at the rabbits, or picking the ripe vegetables my
Papa was fishing. He invited each
of his grandchildren to join him.
My cousin Darryl and my brother Chuck went fishing with Papa many times
as they were growing up. But, as a
child, I never did. I used to be
competitive, and I suspect I thought fishing would a competition—with Papa and Chuck
and Daryl, a competition about who caught the most fish—and being a novice, I
would lose. So, I always said, “no
thank you.” But after I went off
to college, on one of my visits home, my Daddy told me, “You know, going
fishing with Papa is more about being with Papa than it is about catching fish.”
So
I asked my Papa if I could go fishing with him. While we did catch some fish from time to time, what I
remember most about fishing with him, is listening to his stories. Through his stories, I got to know who
he was—beyond being my Papa—a loving father, devoted husband, compassionate
neighbor, wild prankster, hard worker, stubborn fighter. Through his stories, I better
understood my mom and myself—b/c the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Going fishing with Papa was more about
being with him than about catching fish.
Today’s
text is a fishing story. Peter
says I’m going fishing, and 6 other disciples join him. We know from other gospels that Peter
and Zebedee’s sons—James and John—were fishermen before Jesus called them to
join his ministry. In today’s text
they seem to be returning to that old way of life—fishing. These last few weeks for them have been
an emotional roller coaster. Singing and shouting hosannas with the crowd during Jesus’
triumphant entry into Jerusalem (that’s what we celebrate on Palm Sunday),
savoring his victorious verbal spars with the Pharisees in the temple, and then
sharing a Passover meal like none other before, the disciples were surfing the
crest of an emotional wave. Then the bottom dropped out. Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion
pulled them down, and they were battered by waves of guilt, grief, and despair. And then 3 days later, they begin
encountering the risen Christ in ways that have to be experienced in order to
be believed—so it seems. They are
emotionally spent—close to shutdown.
Leaving Jerusalem, they return to the place they know best—Galilee. They
return to the pattern they know best—staying busy—keeping their minds occupied
so they don’t have to think about all that has happened and what it might mean—staying
busy with hard physical labor, so their exhausted bodies will collapse in sleep
at night. They return to the business they know—fishing.
Today’s
text is a fishing story. Peter
says I’m going fishing, and 6 other disciples join him. And Jesus comes to them. The previous resurrection appearances were
in or near Jerusalem. Jesus comes
to them—here on the beach at the Sea of Galilee. They’ve been fishing all night, and Jesus comes to them in
the midst of their busyness. They
have retreated to what is familiar, and Jesus comes to them in the familiar, in
the everyday occurrence of fishing. Jesus comes to them—where they are—physically,
emotionally, and mentally.
Jesus
came here on Friday—in the form of Hazel and Jim Gillette and James and David
McIntire. Without being asked,
they came here about 40 minutes before Bob Nichols’ service and were here to
greet even the earliest arrivals. Because
of them, at each door, people were welcomed.
Jesus
came here on Friday—in the forms of members of this congregation. On Wednesday evening Edith had wondered
aloud if there would be anybody at the funeral. With declining physical health in the last few years, Bob
and Edith had limited excursions outside their home. With the progression of Bob’s Alzheimer’s they had been limiting
visitors to their home. Although they
stayed somewhat connected with telephone calls and cards, a sense of isolation
had set in. Jesus came here on
Friday—presenting himself to Edith in the forms of you who came to the service
and who visited with her before and after. In your presence, you made Christ’s presence known to
her.
Jesus
came here on Friday—in the form of Suzie McIntire, Patsy Staley, Colleen
Barnett, and Betty Ventura. They
set out the food they and others had prepared and hosted the bereavement
meal. Welcoming, visiting, and
then quietly withdrawing, they gave the family and close friends the time and
space and context—a meal—with which to share memories and begin healing. Jesus came here on Friday—in the flesh—in
your flesh. Yours were Jesus’
embracing arms and yours was his soothing voice.
In
today’s text, Jesus comes to the disciples—but they don’t recognize him at
first. In the early morning light,
he’s just a person on the seashore—calling out. But they hear him, and together they respond—casting their
nets on the other side of the boat.
One of them—the beloved disciple—recognizes Jesus in the miracle of
abundance. Jesus has a way of
providing abundantly—in this case, drawing their attention to what’s already
there—lots of fish on the other side of the boat. Who among us is the beloved disciple, recognizing and naming
Jesus’ presence here in generous giving, in deepening faith, and in growing
relationships? Who calls our
attention to God’s abundance here—evidence of Jesus’ presence?
Jesus
comes to the disciples. The
beloved disciple—the one who rested in his bosom at that Passover meal—recognizes
him first. Is it possible that
when we rest in Jesus’ bosom, when we lean on him in prayer and reflection, we
become more likely to see him in our midst? The others recognize Jesus at the meal on the beach. “Come and have breakfast,” he
says. Taking, blessing, breaking,
and giving—Jesus feeds the disciples, and they recognize him. In bread and fish—the common food of
the people—Jesus comes to the disciples.
Cooking out on the beach, he comes to them.
Jesus
comes to us—in the sacramental meal—and in the meals we share daily—with our
families and with others. Each
time we take food, bless it, break it and share with others, Jesus comes to
us. He comes to us in the most
mundane of our daily activities—our meals. Jesus comes to us when we retreat. He comes to us in our busyness. Jesus comes to us—on the beach, in the garden, at the lake,
in the classroom, at home, on the golf course, at the grocery store. Jesus comes to us.
When
he does, may we open our eyes, listen with our hearts, recognize his presence,
and respond with our lives. When
Jesus comes to us, may we lean on him, be renewed by his presence, and work for
his justice.
When
Jesus comes to us, may we recognize it’s like a fishing story that’s more about
being with Jesus than it is about catching fish.
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