It takes as little as 15 seconds to prompt some reflection or learn something new. At least, that’s the premise in part to a twenty-five-year-old series of short segments that have aired on NBC. Tom Brokaw was featured in the first of many of these public service announcements. The campaign, created in response to the teacher shortage in the late eighties, was introduced in an effort to recruit and retain educators. From there, it has developed into a long-standing cross company public service initiative focused on education, diversity, health, civic engagement and the environment. These to-the-point, direct address videos have addressed the nation’s most pressing social issues and remain a trusted voice for sharing knowledge to improve lives . Each offers an insight or tip, followed by the characteristic star and tune around the words “the more you know.” (1)

Now, put yourself in a producer’s hat. What would you say in 15 seconds to tell someone else about God? So much can be said that the prospect of this might be overwhelming, and cause us to give up on the task altogether. But there’s value in imagining what, as this precise moment in time, you might say about the divine. The options are, quite literally, limitless. Catholic theologian Richard Rohr might offer this:

The God I have met and been loved by in my life journey is always an experience of “how much more!” If we are created in the image and likeness of God, then whatever good, true, or beautiful things we can say about humanity or creation we can say of God exponentially. God is the beauty of creation and humanity multiplied to the infinite power (2).

For Christians, God is “the more you know.” Through Jesus Christ, God was revealed in dramatic ways to help us know more about who God is – namely, a God who loves and who redeems. Throughout the gospel of John, we hear Jesus providing these little “public service announcements” about who he is, who God is. “I am the bread of life. . . .I am the vine, you are the branches. . . I am the resurrection and the life . . . I am the way, the truth and the life” and so on. These neatly wrapped up moments are meant to help the disciples, and us, understand a bit more about who God is. The same is true in today’s Gospel reading, which is part of a larger narrative in chapters 14-17 known as the Farewell Discourse. In these chapters, Jesus gives a final address to his disciples about who he is and how they are to live once he departs.

Fred Craddock captures the scene in a memorable image, likening the disciples to children playing on the floor, who happen to look up and see the parents putting on coats and hats. Their questions are three (and they have not changed): Where are you going? Can we go? Then who is going to stay with us? (3)

Previously, Jesus has repeatedly told the disciples where he is going and what is going to happen, but they never seem to quite get it. Here, though, he speaks to that last question, and promises that another Advocate will follow, guiding and staying with them to assure them of his (and God’s) constant and abiding presence. This is how they will know that his promises are true.

The Advocate that Jesus promises is who we know as the Holy Spirit. John describes it for the first time here in this passage using the Greek word parakletos. You’ll often see it translated as “Paraclete” because it is a word so rich with meaning. Its roots mean “called alongside,” and it can signify a variety of roles: Comforter, Encourager, Exhorter, Helper, Appealer, Advocate. John seems to draw upon all of these meanings to address the variety of ways in which the Holy Spirit will engage with Jesus’ disciples. Not surprisingly, these are some of the many functions of Christ himself, indicating that the Spirit would be continuing the work of Jesus. The arrival of the spirit, the Paraclete, “ensures that the revelation of God in the incarnation does not end with Jesus’ death and return to God.” (4)

One way we experience this is ongoing presence of God is through our love of God and relationship with God’s commandments. Jesus’ reference to these two aspects of a life of faith in verses 15 and 21 are meant to be held together. It’s not clear which follows the other. Our love for God is what motivates us to keep those commands God has given, and likewise when we are at our best in keeping those commandments, we are able to most fully experience God’s love. It’s one of those classic conundrums of which came first, like the chicken or the egg. The connecting point between the two is the Holy Spirit, which stirs in our hearts a love for God and encourages us to be the faithful disciples God calls us to be.

The Holy Spirit that Jesus promises carries on Christ’s role as intercessor, helping connect the dots between love and practice, even when we mess it up along the way. She is:
“one who has been called to our side” to stand up for us, to explain us to the court. Think of lawyer shows on television. Think of detectives and mystery and action. The Paraclete, the Advocate, is a force on the move.

The arrival of the Holy Spirit is another sign of God’s grace, sealing us in the gift of salvation that comes through Christ’s death and resurrection. The Advocate reminds us that even when Christ is not among us in the flesh, nothing will separate us from God. For the disciples, it matters to hear that the God they know, the one standing before them, will not abandon them. God’s work and presence in the world will continue, as it has always been. The disciples are not alone.

This is the God we need to know, too. Because there will be times when we, too, feel alone or even abandoned. We will feel lost, wondering if there is anyone who is listening. And when that happens, we can remind ourselves that the God we know abides in us. We need this comfort, when we have just graduated and have anxiety about what the future holds, or when we are mourning the loss of a family member, a friend, or even a pet. We need to know that God is with us when the doctor calls us into the office to review test results. And we cling to this promise when we hear on the news that evil and hatred has found its way into a concert in Manchester or two passengers have been stabbed while standing against prejudice on a train in Portland. In these moments, and countless others, we need to declare that this is the God we know: a God who continues to be present with us with a spirit of truth beyond what the world can understand. We know a God who is more than anything that can happen. A God who dwells in us in love, and kindles in us a love for Christ that holds us close and stands up for us in ways that lead to mercy and grace and peace. That is the God described by Jesus, still at work today through the Holy Spirit. A God who does not leave us as orphans, but remains in us.

Truth be told, we would rather have a neat faith that fits into a prepackaged container. We would rather have Jesus leading us around, showing us the way, than have to wrestle with this other Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who moves and acts in strange and challenging ways. We need to have boundaries to understand God, and so we create various constructs about who God is and who God loves and the limits of what God can and will do in the world. We do this with good intentions, because we desperately need something we can hold on to, but in the end we have what is admittedly a fairly small frame lens look at who God really is. We begin to construct God in our own image, or in ones that fit how the world has shaped God’s image. We make rationalizations and exceptions, and put our faith in things beyond the divine. In part, we do this because it can be difficult – almost impossible – to hold an image of God that is big enough to handle all of the challenges of this world.

The same thing happened in the early church. In our text from Acts, we read of Paul’s sermon to the people of Athens. He has noted the high religious ways of their culture, and points out how these ways cannot be transferred to a belief in God. They can’t simply construct a large golden altar “to an unknown God” and cover all the bases. He reminds them that God is so much more than anything they can construct. He calls them to let go of their idols and false images and embrace the God of every aspect of life. Paul challenges his congregation to look at the big picture, and find that God is even beyond the biggest most expansive image of the divine that they can imagine. After all, this is the God who created everything on heaven and on earth!

Paul insists that from the very beginning, God’s design was to create human beings in God’s own image who would then “search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him” (v. 27). Today, we might call this a search for the meaning of life or our purpose. It reflects an innate desire that we have as human beings to connect with something bigger and greater than ourselves. It’s represented in virtually every culture and religion around the globe. A yearning for something more. Paul reminds us that God is “not far from each of us” (v. 27). We are able to find him in the movement of our lives. For the people in the first century, he masterfully plays off of philosophers of the day, ones who said things like “For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’;” or, “For we too are his offspring” (v. 28). Look no further, he preaches – this being that you are seeking, this power that is bigger than yourself – it’s God. It’s Christ dwelling in you. It’s the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, nudging you to dig deeper and discover more.

But I think both of our passages from today challenge us to do just that – to trust that God is that big and great, and instead seek to know a God who is at once both recognizable and incomprehensible. This is our God, ever-present, always within reach yet unattainable. The beauty of knowing God is that the more we know and learn, the greater our desire to seek God and learn and grow in faith will be. No matter how much we think we have figured out, there is always more to discover. Paul knew it, Jesus knew it. Do we? May we have the faith to seek greater understanding, and the faith to live into that mystery of “the God We Know.” Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

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(1) http://www.themoreyouknow.com/about/, accessed 5/25/17.
(2) Richard Rohr, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011).
(3) Fred B. Craddock, John, Knox Preaching Guides (Atlanta: John Knox, 1982), 98; as quoted by Frances Taylor Gench in Encounters with Jesus: Studies in the Gospel of John, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007).
(4) Gail R. O’Day, “John 14:12-24” in The New Interpeter’s Bible, Volume IX, Leander E. Keck, editor, (Nashville, Abingdon, 1995).

In the winter of 1947, the reckless and joyous Dean Moriarty, fresh out of another stint in jail and newly married, comes to New York City and meets Sal Paradise, a young writer with an intellectual group of friends, among them the poet Carlo Marx. Dean fascinates Sal, and their friendship begins three years of restless journeys back and forth across the country . . . Through all of this constant movement, there is an array of colorful characters, shifting landscapes, dramas, and personal development(1)

This is a summary of the famous book published in 1957 by Jack Kerouac, On the Road. It is a story based on the travels of Kerouac and his friends across the United States, considered a defining work of the postwar Beat and Counterculture generations, exhibiting the ups and downs of life against the backdrop of jazz and poetry.

One premise of this novel hinges on the idea that life is best learned by experience, and it has prompted many a young adult to indulge in wanderlusts and yearnings to explore the world, from backpacking across Europe to road tripping across the United States. While on the road, one can reflect on the mysteries of life, and perhaps come out with a greater sense of meaning and purpose for things. It is a coming of age work in a sense. The pseudo-autobiographical main character discovers himself along the way. The plot is almost subtle, and to understand it, readers must pay close attention to nuance. As one study guide notes, “The story is in the details(2).”

Our story from Luke this morning is the same way. In it, we find two of Jesus’ disciples on the road to Emmaus following the death of Jesus. Only one of them is named – Cleopas. Naming, or not, in our Biblical texts is significant. Some posit that the unnamed disciple may have been a woman, not given status by lack of mention. Others offer a compelling interpretive rationale; that the writer of Luke intentionally did not name the other disciple in order to allow his first audience of early believers the opportunity to place themselves within the context of the story. The story invites us into the journey. We are all disciples trying to get our grips on what this Resurrection stuff is all about.

While much of the gospel narrative has been about a journey towards Jerusalem, here we have characters that are actively moving away from it. We might gather that this is a journey of escape, an attempt to get away from the tragedy that has just unfolded because they can’t quite make sense of it all and are deeply saddened. Frederich Buechner writes that Emmaus is:

The place we go to in order to escape – a bar, a movie, wherever it is we throw up our hands and say, “Let the whole damned thing go hang. It makes no difference anyway.” . . . Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget that the world holds nothing sacred: that even the wisest and bravest and loveliest decay and die; that even the noblest ideas that men have had – ideas about love and freedom and justice – have always in time been twisted out of shape by selfish men for selfish ends(3).

This, too, is an example of what it meant to live after Jesus’ death and resurrection. It was a time of uncertainty and confusion for those who had followed and believed he was the Christ. The hopes that had once existed now seemed a faint memory, and the disciples just weren’t on board yet with the women’s story about the empty tomb. This is a story about what it is to come to grips with the story of the resurrection. It is a “what now” moment? The answer is a walk.

The disciples were wrapped up in trying to make sense of what had just happened when a stranger joins them. We know that it’s Jesus, but they don’t recognize him, and he seems clueless about recent events. I imagine the disciples were caught off-guard. This was all they had been talking about. It had captured every headline, was trending on social media, and filled the news cycle. How could this stranger not have heard? Had he been living under a rock? (well, maybe behind one). They catch him up on the details, even the ones they aren’t so sure about.

Strangely, this stranger offers more than just an opinion on the matter; he gives a complete and thorough lecture on the subject. But he doesn’t just explain the events of the last week; he identifies their place within the entire story of the Scriptures. It must have been an extraordinary level of detail. It is a Bible study that lasts for the entire seven mile journey to Emmaus. But rather than escape the stranger’s lecture when they reach their door, the disciples choose to invite him in. Something has kindled in them that leaves them still wanting more. And, as was the custom, the stranger only relented to stay after strong urging and emphatic invitation. They gathered around a table, and he breaks bread. Suddenly, their eyes were opened. In this moment, they realized who was before them.

In her memoir An American Childhood, Annie Dillard describes such a moment from her teenage years, when she was full of “summer camp love” for Jesus but “utter disdain” for the congregation where here parents dropped her off to worship:

There came a day when she was chagrined to find that it was a Communion Sunday. She groaned inwardly; she had managed to avoid Communion for years, the long dreary service that seemed interminable. But she was stuck, and there was nothing to do but wait it out. She watched as the well-dressed ushers passed around sterling silver trays bearing tiny cut-crystal glasses, each with half an ounce of grape juice, and other trays with perfectly cubed white bread. She scoffed inwardly at the presumed piety of these wealthy people. . . Then suddenly it hit her. These people were all praying. . . . She had no idea “when this praying developed.” She looked down over the balcony rail at the adults below. Even they seemed to be concentrating; surely they were not praying, too. . . . But there they were. The Communion trays had disappeared, and the people were left, stilled. One young father rested his head on two fists propped on his knee. The men’s heads were all bowed, the women’s too, except for a few who were tilted back. It seemed that people were scarcely breathing.

Dillard writes. “Christ drifted among floating sandstone ledges and deep absorbent skies. There was no speech nor language. The people had been praying, praying to God.” (4).

Even when we are doubtful, as the Dillard and those disciples were, Christ shows up, and often in surprising ways. Sometimes we almost miss it because we are so wrapped up in our own concerns. This can even be true in worship, the place where we would imagine God’s presence to be most apparent. We come expecting to see friends and have good conversation and maybe learn a thing or two, but we don’t always come expecting to see Christ. The story of Emmaus challenges us to pay better attention to what’s around us, rather than simply waiting for it to become painfully obvious, and reminds us that Christ does and will show up. Writer Kimberly Bracken Long suggests that, as Christians, sometimes we have to train ourselves to see(5). Today, consider being a bit more attentive to looking for it. Perhaps Christ for you will be in the taste of bread and juice; or in a deep, satisfying breath of prayer; or in a moment lost in music; or even in the face of someone else gathered here.

Our experience of the risen Christ shapes our entire understanding of the journey and gives us renewed energies for the journeys ahead. After their eye-opening moment, the disciples realize that Jesus has been in the midst of all they have done, guiding and shaping their conversations and movements along the way. They race back to Jerusalem with the good news, ready to serve Jesus once again. As Shannon Michael Pater notes:

In the breaking of bread, the beams of resurrection’s dawn have reached about seven miles from Jerusalem. Their burning hearts illumine their blind eyes and quicken their weary souls for a seven-mile nighttime run in the moonlight of Easter. Their sacred city is made holy again, and their pilgrimage of faith has just begun(6).

This morning, we celebrate our shared journey in faith as a congregation. We believe that, like the disciples, we are called to walk the road together, even when we aren’t quite sure what our road might lead. And we recognize the need to have leaders among us who will help us be attentive to these things as we grow in faith together. So, from among this group of travelers, we elect officers – elders and deacons – to help us discern where to go. It is a journey rooted in the words of Scripture, not just our favorite verses, but the totality of God’s story. This morning, our newest class of officers will answer questions promising to lead us faithfully. They will commit to being on the road together, prayerfully discerning God’s will for our congregation, trying to figure out what to do next. And, through prayer and the laying on of hands, we will ask the Spirit to be with them and us along the road. We do so trusting that the same one who met those disciples on the way to Emmaus will meet us on our path as well, and that our experience of the Lord in our midst will deepen our understanding of what it means to be followers of Jesus. This morning, we commit to being along the road together, with each other, and with Christ.

Will you join us on this road? If so, I invite you to stand as we express some of what we believe, joining together in our Affirmation of Faith:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
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(1) Summary of On the Road by Jack Kerouac, www.sparknotes.com/lit/ontheroad/summary.html, accessed 5/3/17.
(2) Ibid.
(3)Frederick Beuchner, The Magnificent Defeat (New York: Seabury, 1966), 85-86; as quoted by R. Alan Culpepper, “Luke 24:13-35,” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX, Luke – John, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995)
(4) Ibid.
(5) Kimberly Bracken Long, The Worshiping Body: The Art of Leading Worship (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), https://books.google.com/books?isbn=0664233112, accessed 4/26/17.
(6) Shannon Michael Pater, “Pastoral Perspective: Luke 24:13-35,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

There are a lot of things you can do all by yourself, but faith isn’t one of them. Sure, there are aspects of faith that you can accomplish on your own – we each can pray, read the Bible, and even worship in some ways, but nothing we can do entirely on our own will fulfill the kind of faith life that Jesus calls us to lead. Writer and pastor Francis Chan notes:

While every individual needs to obey Jesus’ call to follow, we cannot follow Jesus as individuals. The proper context for every disciple maker is the church. It is impossible to make disciples aside from the church of Jesus Christ. Look at it from this perspective: the New Testament is full of commands to do this or that for “one another.” Love one another, pray for one another, encourage one another, etc. So how can we teach people to “observe all that I have commanded” if they have no one to love, pray for, or encourage? It’s impossible to “one another” yourself. It’s impossible to follow Jesus alone[i].

Throughout his ministry, Jesus taught his disciples what it meant to be together, encouraging them to look after one another and attend to each other’s needs. In his appearances after the Resurrection, he reiterated this idea and instructed his disciples to continue the work he had done in light of his resurrection. In Luke’s gospel, he reminded the disciples, “You are witnesses of these things” (Luke 24:48). Such good news is meant to be shared. Matthew’s gospel gives us the Great Commission: Go therefore and make disciples of all nations . . . teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you (Matthew 28:19-20).Mark’s gospel reads similarly, “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation (Mark 16:15). And, of course, in John’s gospel we hear specific, tangible instructions for what this looks like in John’s gospel: Do you love me? Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep (John 21). There is no denying the witness of all four gospels – the disciples were not meant to exist in isolation. They were meant to engage with each other and with the world in meaningful ways that shared the good news. This is what it means to live in a post-Easter world. We, as modern day followers of Jesus, are also meant to live in together in that way. It begins with community.

One of the most known books by the renowned theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer is entitled Life Together, and provides an inspiring account of a unique fellowship in an underground seminary during the Nazi years in Germany. It reads like one of Paul’s letters, giving practical advice on how life together in Christ can be sustained in families and groups. In it, he sets forth that Christianity and community are almost synonymous, saying:

Christianity means community through Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ. No Christian community is more or less than this. Whether it be a brief, single encounter or the daily fellowship of years, Christian community is only this. We belong to one another only through and in Jesus Christ[ii].

This was the gist of the sermon that Peter delivers on the day of Pentecost to the church in Jerusalem as recorded in Acts 2. In this, he outlines for new believers the central message of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. The people are moved, and verse 41 reports that three thousand people were baptized and added to the newly forming church. All from one sermon. That’s a lot of pressure on the preacher!

The writer of Acts, which is a continuation of the gospel of Luke, then gives us an idyllic picture of the church in its infancy. And, like we do when we look at pictures of babies, we find ourselves in awe and wonder, enraptured by what we see. Ten tiny toes, ten tiny fingers, a little cooing smile, and the sweet smell of baby powder brings us a sense of nostalgia. The church presented in Acts is beautiful, utopian even. They shared everything in common, spent time together eating and praying and studying Scripture. What a lovely view of the church, isn’t it? Free from disagreements or challenges. There is no mention of a kitchen drain that is clogged and backs up when the dishwasher is run. No, the early church appears free from such troubling matters. Of course, from Paul’s letters we know that it won’t be long before the early church is mired with conflict and disagreement as they try to figure out what it means to be Christian. But just for today, we get an image of the church as it should be. Professor Paul Walaskay writes:

Just as in his Gospel Luke had rendered Jesus’ nativity – with awestruck shepherds and singing angels – in harmonious soft tones, so here he paints a similar picture of the birth of the church. A romantic glow spreads over the community. . . . Luke allows us a fleeting look at a moment in time when that perfect fellowship was fully alive and he holds out the hope that it can happen again[iii].

So what was the key to the success of the early church? Was it a compelling preacher like Peter? Was it an outstanding music program? Maybe they had one of those incredible new signs out front, or particularly comfortable pews, or really good coffee afterwards. Oddly enough, none of these are mentioned as a reason for success and growth in Acts, nor are their first century equivalents named. But, what we do know from verse 47, is that they were growing because of one factor – the Lord. The writer clearly attributes any success not on Peter or the other apostles or an evangelism and outreach team, but solely on the work of the Holy Spirit. In fact, it was the believers’ awe and wonder for the works of God that brought them together in the first place. This passage in Acts has a lot to teach us about what it means to be the church: first an awareness and acknowledgement that Christ is our center and has brought us together, and second a dedication to practices as a community that heighten that awareness.

Acts describes in detail the faith practices of this early community, and significantly uses the word “devoted” to describe the interaction level of the people. This wasn’t just a casual hobby or an every once in a while activity. Their life together was an integral part of their daily lives. And with faith came a great gift from God – the gift of community.

Bonhoeffer writes:

Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate[iv].

The early church participated in this life through teaching and fellowship, sharing what they had, including material possessions, breaking bread together, and praising God. These are still marks of the church today, and ways in which we structure our life together. Reading these simple ways of being together is a reminder to us of the heart of our community, and the ways in which we can be nourished in our time together.

The Christian life is about adjusting ourselves to the existence of a gracious God. Acts describes for us what this adjustment looks like. The awe and wonder that characterize the early church remind modern believers that authentic fellowship with God includes a humbling awareness of God’s divinity in the midst of human mortality and of God’s wondrous deeds interrupting our ordinary lives[v].

When we devote ourselves to this kind of being together, we are better able to see God’s presence among us. And, when we fail to see it on our own, we know that there are others beside us who can point out the beauty we struggle to see on our own.

In the 90s, the Irish rock band, U2 released a hit song titled “One.” In it, the lyrics speak about the interplay between individuals and community, distinctiveness and unity:

We’re one, but we’re not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other.
. . .
One life with each other, sisters, brothers
One life – but we’re not the same
We get to carry each other, carry each other
One life, one[vi].

This is the description of the early church, and the church that is alive and well today. We are one in Jesus Christ, though made uniquely and differently by God. And we are called into community to carry each other. We do this, as sisters and brothers in faith, through a life together marked by spiritual practices.

One practice of group prayer that our youth group uses quite frequently is to join hands in a circle, but with everyone having their thumbs pointing in the same direction. As they circle up, one will ask for “thumbs right” or “thumbs left.” The idea behind this is so that everyone, especially in this moment of prayer, is reminded that they are being supported by someone, and at the same time supporting someone else. It is a great illustration of how we understand our lives together – as those who carry each other.

Our common life of prayer, study, and service unites us and builds relationships among us of mutual love and support. This is the call that the church received in 1 Peter, as verse 22 instructs, to have “genuine mutual love, love one another deeply from the heart.” This is our one life – one love. It looks something like this: the one who uses a cane embracing one who is just learning to crawl. It includes ones for whom certain topics make them squirm and children who squirm in the pews because they just can’t sit still. It includes teenagers who text and those who have developed beautiful cursive script through years of penned letters. God’s community is as big and as wide as you can imagine. It’s bigger than just those who look like you, or think like you, act like you, or are sitting in your pew. It’s so big because the one who unites us, Jesus Christ, is that big.

God’s love is be contagious. It is something that we long to be a part of, and when we find it together, it spreads and grows as quickly as yellow pollen can cover your car in the spring. It grabs on to us and will not let us go. It starts by being willing to engage in life together, carrying each other, and preaching the good news among us to anyone who will listen. When we devote ourselves to God’s image of community, we will grow; in faith and understanding, and with God’s help, maybe in number as well.

There are a lot of things you can do all by yourself, but faith doesn’t have to be one of them. God has given us a wonderful gift of community, here in this congregation and in the greater church. Our joy, our blessing, is to be participants in it, as we engage in life together day by day. So let’s join hands and do just that. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford

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[i] Francis Chan, Multiply: Disciples Making Disciples, (Colorado Springs, CO: David C. Cook, 2012).

[ii] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian Community, trans. and introduction by John W. Doberstein, (New York: HarperOne, 1954).

[iii] Paul W. Walaskay, Acts – Westminster Bible Companion, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998).

[iv] Bonhoeffer.

[v] Timothy B. Hare, “Homiletical Perspective: Acts 2:42-47,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[vi] U2, “One,” Achtung Baby Album, released 1991, Hansa Ton Studios, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftjEcrrf7r0

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 1^st 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 13^th 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).