Easter 3C
April 18, 2010
Acts 9: 1-6*Psalm 30*Revelation 5: 11-14*John 21: 1-19
David M. McNair
The first hint of light at the break of day comes quietly and slowly for the one who is lonely and grieving and troubled. The night seems to go on forever and despair feeds on the darkness. And then at last day breaks and there is a soft release from the grip of night. It is that holy time between two worlds — between night and day, darkness and light, stillness and activity, unconscious and conscious. It is a moment every day pregnant with possibilities when hope speaks a gentle word to despair.
It’s this moment that Jesus chooses to make himself known to his disciples out at sea. There are seven of them, but it is Peter who has captured Jesus’ heart on this morning. He’s been thinking about him as he sits there in the dark wee hours of the morning, stirring his little charcoal fire and remembering back to that other charcoal fire in the courtyard where Peter claims three times not to know him. He’s been watching Peter out there in the fishing boat, watching more with his heart than with his eyes, and he has seen a great sadness in him. Peter had left it all to follow him but now he’s back home with very little to show for his adventure away in Jerusalem.
Jesus knew Peter was bewildered — perplexed by what he was to do next. Was he simply supposed to return to his old life, his old world, and pick up where he had left off? Even more than that Peter was grieving and lonely. He missed the man who was waiting for him on the beach. There is so much he would like to say to him now.
Jesus knew all these things about Peter and his love for him stirred as he sat by his little fire and waited for day to come. Peter believed that he was stepping backwards into his old world, but he was soon to find that Jesus was on the beach waiting for him with breakfast and a new world.
There is something very moving and tender about the image of Jesus waiting on the beach for these men he loves and cooking them a little breakfast. He knows they’ve been out there all night and haven’t caught a thing and yet just after daybreak he yells out to them, “Caught anything?” It’s the quintessential question for anyone who loves to fish. A chance to boast or admit defeat. On this morning, the men must admit defeat. So Jesus tells them to throw their net out on the right side of the boat, and for whatever reason, they decide to try it. When they catch so many fish they can bearly haul in the net, one of the disciples (the one who is identified only as the one whom Jesus loved) recognizes him and says “It is the Lord.” Impetuous Peter jumps into the sea leaving the others behind to haul the net to shore.
What they find when they get to the shore is a little charcoal fire ready for their fish and bread. It must have been a welcome sight to a group of guys who’d been out at sea all night. Jesus says to them, “Come and have breakfast.”
Have you ever wondered why food is so important to Jesus? The gospel stories are filled with food and drink. Perhaps the reason food and shared meals and feasting are so important to Jesus is because they are so important to all of us. Jesus does not simply use food as a symbol of higher spiritual things. The food itself takes on a holy significance. Think about the occasions when you have received food from others – after surgery, or the birth of a baby, or a birthday celebration, or the feast we’ll have week after the Celebration of New Ministry service. Or how many times have you made a casserole to take to a family who has just lost a loved one? Or perhaps you have helped prepared a meal at a homeless shelter or been a part of the pancake breakfast here with the men’s group every Sunday morning. I know our youth went to Manna Food Bank a few weeks ago and prepared food packages for public school kids to take home on the weekends. The food is not simply a symbol of care and concern – your love is actually contained in the nourishment and goodness of the food itself.
Jesus knows that the fishermen have been out all night, catching nothing, and certainly would be hungry by daybreak. He also knows that they failed him when all the chips were down and certainly they must be carrying that load of guilt around with them. Jesus has been badly betrayed by these men but he comes back to them with forgiveness.
He is thinking about Peter especially because he had so boasted of his love and devotion to the Lord and then three times had denied him. So, after breakfast, Jesus pulls Peter aside and asks him again, “Peter, do you love me?” Three times Jesus asks Peter the same question and three times Peter says, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.” And then he says plainly, “Follow me.” But follow where – and follow how – when Jesus will be leaving again.
There is a beautiful scene in C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia where the children have been on a voyage through Narnia aboard a ship called the Dawn Treader. During their adventures they have been with Aslan, who is a lion and the Christ figure in the book. In this scene they are sailing eastward toward the end of the world and they catch a beautiful vision behind the sun — of warm green mountains full of forests and waterfalls and they know that they are seeing beyond the End of the World into Aslan’s country. They are hoping to go into Aslan’s country or at least to stay in Narnia, but not to go home, back to their life in England.
As their boat comes ashore, they see something white on the green grass. As they come closer they see that it is a Lamb. The conversation goes this way:
“Come and have breakfast,” said the Lamb in its sweet milky voice. Then they notice for the first time that there was a fire lit on the grass and fish roasting on it. They sat down and ate the fish, hungry now for the first time in many days. And it was the most delicious food they had ever tasted.
“Please, Lamb,” said Lucy, “is this the way to Aslan’s country?”
“Not for you,” said the Lamb. “For you the door to Aslan’s country is from your own world.”
“What!” said Edmund. “Is there a way into Aslan’s country from our world too?”
“There is a way into my country from all the worlds,” said the Lamb; but as he spoke, his snowy white flushed into a tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane.
The children plead for Aslan to tell them how to get to his country and to tell them when they can come back to Narnia again. But Aslan tells them they will not come back because now they must come close to their own world.
“It isn’t Narnia you know,” sobbed Lucy. “It’s you. We shan’t meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?”
“But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”
Then all in one moment there was a rending of the blue wall (like a curtain being torn) and a terrible white light from beyond the sky, and the feel of Aslan’s mane and a Lion’s kiss on their foreheads and then – the back bedroom in Aunt Alberta’s home in Cambridge.
Lucy and Edmund and the other children long to go beyond the End of the World into that other country where Aslan lives – because they love Aslan and want to be with him forever. But Aslan tells them the hard truth that the door to his country is through their own world. It is in going back to their old world, their old life that they will know Aslan by his new name.
C.S. Lewis spins a wonderful tale and does not theologize explicitly about its meaning. But it seems to me that the children, standing there by the edge of the sea and the edge of the world, face the same kind of dilemma that the disciples face standing by the edge of their sea. If we go back to our old life and our old world, how will we know this one who has brought us so much love? Aslan tells the children they will know him by a new name. Jesus tells Peter, “If you love me, feed my lambs.” It’s basically the same message.
Jesus is not with us in his human form but he is among us by a new name. Peter will recognize Jesus by his new name every time he loves his neighbors, by feeding and tending them. And you will recognize Jesus by his new name every time you bake a cake for someone who is grieving; every time you bring cans of food to share with neighbors in need; every time you would like to take revenge on someone who has hurt you but instead you offer him a cup of coffee; and you will know Jesus by his new name every time you are going through your own dark night and someone knocks on your door with a loaf of warm bread.
Until that day when we all cross over into Aslan’s country, we are in our old world, trying to figure out how we might know Jesus a little better here. Apparently, it’s really very simple. It’s all about feeding and being fed – which doesn’t always include real, actual food but often enough it does. Before Jesus says to Peter, “feed my sheep,” he first says, “come and have breakfast.”
And you may be assured that Jesus waits for you on the shore, thinking about you as he sits there stirring his little charcoal fire. When you stop on the sand, he will give you all the fish and bread you need. And then he will say, “Feed my lambs.” And as day is breaking, the old world we have returned to suddenly looks like a whole new world. For that day breakfast is the most delicious food we have ever tasted.