At my grandparents’ house, hanging at the intersection of the kitchen and dining room was the dinner bell with a long cord of yarn added so that I, and eventually my two younger brothers, could reach. Whenever we visited, my grandmother would give me the cue, and I would run over and ring it for all that it was worth. It was a signal and call that the meal was ready which got everyone’s attention. Within a few minutes, our family had gathered around, talking and laughing as we shared a meal. Now, this bell has a new home at my parents’ house, where I’m sure it will have many more years of ringing. There’s an excitement about being called to the table.
This morning’s text starts with Jesus, risen from the dead, ringing the dinner bell. He is on the beach by the Sea of Tiberias, catching up with his disciples. Earlier in this chapter we read that Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee and two others have spent the night fishing, but haven’t had any luck. Jesus appears at daybreak and calls out to them to fish on the other side of the boat. They do, of course, and their nets are full, beyond full, of fish, and they know that it is the Lord. Naturally, they rush to shore, with Peter taking the lead as he jumps in and goes swimming. When they arrive, Jesus already has some fish cooking, and asks for some of their catch, too. He invites them simply, “Come and have breakfast.”
On the whole, this interaction is really normal. Oddly so. The disciples have recognized him as the Christ, the one who two other times has appeared in locked rooms and shown his wounds, and now he’s going about a mundane morning task as if everything is the same. Here we find a beautiful understanding of God on this first Sunday after Easter. It is a day when many of us are experiencing a bit of “post-Easter decline.” The big celebration of last week, with lilies and Alleluias and Easter Eggs and merriment has passed, and it can be hard to muster the same level of energy (although with the Georgia Boy Choir and Brunch today we’re doing our best to maintain that Easter enthusiasm!). Like the disciples, this week we have returned to our everyday lives. Business as usual. Today’s text reminds us that sometimes that God appears here, too. As one commentator notes:
For many of us, this is the way God shows up – not in lightning-filled explosions of clarity and wonder, but in awkward moments of inexplicable holiness. . . . This is what Easter looks like, John tells us. Sometimes life with Christ looks like the dead raised, mountains of transfiguring light, and the feeding of five thousand with last night’s leftovers. More often than not, though, it is as simple as breakfast by the sea. It is the mundane mingled with miracle, charcoal fires, and unbroken nets[i].
What follows next in the story is a surprising lack of dialogue. The disciples are stunned into silence. You might imagine everyone standing or sitting around the fire, watching the fish cook, eyeing the horizon, trying to figure out what to say. Scripture says the disciples dare not ask him who he was – they knew that. But they couldn’t seem to find any other words, either. It must have been pretty awkward. “So, how have you been Jesus? The last time we saw you . . .” yeah, there’s not a really good intro into that conversation is there, and talking about the weather probably seemed pretty minimal. They couldn’t even talk about their night of fishing; their nets had been empty until Jesus came along. And so they sit in silence.
Perhaps the disciples were quiet because they were embarrassed or scared or otherwise nervous about this strange encounter. Maybe they felt like a college student home for the holidays with graduation just around the corner, hoping no one will ask them for the thousandth time what their plans are after graduation, because they haven’t quite figured it out just yet. There is a t-shirt I’ve seen marketed for such an occasion; it reads: “please don’t ask about my grades or college or job or relationship status or weight; actually just don’t talk to me okay.” Peter probably would have been first in line for the 1st century version of this. There was a lot he probably didn’t want mentioned. Just before our verses today, we read that he had to put on clothes before jumping in the water to swim to shore because he had been fishing naked (21:7). But more importantly, Peter no doubt was carrying quite a weight with him. The last time he was by a charcoal fire according to John’s gospel was just after Jesus’ arrest when he denied knowing Jesus three times. Perhaps his shirt would have read “please don’t ask me about my fishing habits or walking on water or roosters crowing.”
When you are sitting at a table with others, whether it’s coworkers or family, “polite company” we’ll say, there are three things you aren’t supposed to talk about: money, politics, and religion. Jesus had not gotten that memo, and spent a lot of his ministry talking about those three things. In fact, it was his outspokenness about each of them that ultimately led to his arrest, trial, and death. Here on the beach, he enters into another question that we might include on a list of taboo. He looks at Peter after breakfast and says “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”
What a heavy-hitting question, especially first thing in the morning. He uses Peter’s full name, so you know it’s serious. And he asks after Peter has arguably demonstrated the exact opposite not once, but three times.
It’s possible to hear this question as a little mean-spirited, as Jesus is not-so-subtly calling Peter out on his past actions. But before we get too far down the road of being upset with the risen Lord, we might consider that Jesus has consistently demonstrated that he is not about punishment and guilt, but about love and reconciliation. This conversation at the beach is a moment of redemption of Peter, carefully crafted in John’s gospel to mirror his denial, even down to the detail of doing so sitting by a fire. It is no accident that Jesus asks Peter the question three times, paralleling the three times Peter was asked if he knew Jesus, and the three rooster crows. Many scholars suggest that by allowing Peter to answer this question three times, Jesus gives Peter the opportunity to undo his previous statements. Peter is given not just one more chance, but three, a testament to a grace that’s just as abundant as the net overflowing with fish.
Peter’s responds well, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” There is, of course, no good explanation for why he denied Jesus in the way that he did. So he responds with a profound statement of faith. He can only rest in the hope that Jesus knows his heart, and affirm that indeed Jesus is the one and the same omniscient God. A God who knows him, even better than he knows himself. A God who loves him, even when he has demonstrated the opposite. A God who shows up to give him second and third chances. This is the reality of the risen Lord.
Jesus’ question is not a trick one. It is meant to remind his disciples of what is most important so that he can point them in the right direction from here. Likewise, to us today it is a question to help remind us of the central component of our faith – a love of Jesus Christ.
As I was preparing to be ordained, one of the final steps was to go before my presbytery and be examined. I was asked to preach at the meeting, and following our time of worship I was presented as a candidate for ordination, shared my statement of faith, and then the floor was open for any question the body wished to ask. I knew there was one question coming. The committee had given me advance notice of what to expect. There was an older man named Gulmer Nichols who was an elder of one of our churches just outside of Nashville who loved to attend every presbytery meeting and had for years. Every time someone came into the presbytery, or was examined to be ordained, he wanted them to answer the same question: “Do you love Jesus?”
Now, this may seem like a softball question, but when you’re preparing to be ordained, fresh from seminary education, it can seem like a trick. Most people would get rattled and then spend ten minutes talking about the humanity and divinity of Christ, or substitutionary atonement or other theological intricacies. I had my answer prepared, “Yes. I love Jesus with all my heart, my mind, and my strength.” You see, it wasn’t a trick question at all. Gulmer simply wanted to know that the people leading the church were doing so out of a love of Jesus Christ. Sometimes we can get wrapped up in a lot of other things and forget that, when it all comes down to it, that’s really what ministry is all about. That’s what being a Christian is all about.
As N.T. Wright observes, “Here is the secret of all Christian ministry, yours and mine, lay and ordained, full-time or part-time. It’s the secret of everything from being a quiet, back-row member of a prayer group to being a platform speaker at huge rallies and conferences. If you are going to do any single solitary thing as a follower and servant of Jesus, this is what it’s built on. Somewhere, deep down inside, there is a love for Jesus, and though (goodness knows) you’ve let him down enough times, he wants to find that love, to give you a chance to express it, to heal the hurts and failures of the past, and give you new work to do.[ii]”
I think it’s significant that Jesus met his disciples on the beach for breakfast, rather than lunch or dinner. Breakfast is the start of the day. Some say it’s the most important meal, and that you should make sure to get the nutrients you need to sustain you for the work you have ahead. On the beach, Jesus provided the disciples with all they needed – literal and spiritual food. This wasn’t a wind-down meal to talk about the events that had happened and turn in for the night. Instead, this is a starting point, and serves in many ways as John’s commissioning for how they are to continue his ministry. They are meant to GO and DO things. Jesus gives them new work.
“Feed my lambs . . . Tend my sheep . . . feed my sheep.” This is the response Jesus has to Peter’s profession of love. Throughout John’s gospel, Jesus has instructed the disciples to love. In the 13th chapter he even illustrated this by washing their feet and giving them a new commandment, “love one another. . . . By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). Risen from the tomb, he essentially repeats this instruction. For followers of Jesus, loving God must be synonymous with serving and loving others. Patrick Johnson puts it this way: “Love for the other is the outworking of God’s love within us[iii].”
Our congregation is known for the motto “Love Grows Here.” I think it’s a perfect illustration of how we understand ministry in light of this story from John’s gospel. Here, our love for God grows as we worship and study together and experience the powerful work of the Holy Spirit in our midst, nudging us and inspiring us, filling us and encouraging us. Here, our love for God is shown through acts of service. Quite literally we feed and clothe and nurture others through our food pantry and clothing closet ministries. Sunday School teachers and Presbyterian Women Circle leaders and youth advisors nurture disciples of all ages. Deacons reach out to family groups in good times and hard times to provide support and care. And this morning, SEVEN months before Christmas, we are aware that there are children who will be in need this year, and so we raise money for Santa’s Caravan, hopeful that we will be able to share some of that joy with others, and we gather around breakfast tables, sharing in community with each other as we do it. These are just a few examples of how we live into Jesus’ instructions, grounded in our love for Christ and our desire to follow him. What a way to begin this season of Easter, charged by Jesus himself for our faith not just to be something we proclaim, but something we live out day to day.
The story of this simple breakfast on the beach reminds us that Easter is not the end point to a beautiful story about how the baby in the manger emerged from the tomb. Easter is the beginning; the dawning of a new day. And our risen Lord meets us to help us understand what we are to do next. So come and eat breakfast; hear Christ asking you that same question he asked Peter, “Do you love me?”. And may our lives be a witness to our answer. Amen.
~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
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[i] S. Brian Erickson, “Homiletical Perspective: John 21:9-14,” Feasting on the Gospels: John, Volume 2, Chapters 10-21, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015).
[ii] Tom Wright, John for Everyone, Part 2: Chapters 11-21 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2004), 165, as quoted by Frances Taylor Gench in Encounters with Jesus: Studies in the Gospel of John, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007).
[iii] Patrick W. T. Johnson, “Homiletical Perspective: John 21:15-19,” Feasting on the Gospels: John, Volume 2, Chapters 10-21, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015).
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