The Third Sunday of Easter - Rev. Aimee Baxter

 I grew up in what most people would call the country. Bleeker, AL to be exact. (We used to joke that if you blink, you’ll miss her.) Country life brings with it a lot of things but in my experience, growing up in the country basically meant that you lived on more than one acre of land. And that land was often inhabited by horses, cows and hay bales.

A good bit of us country folk even had ponds for fishing. So, that means I have a lot of fish stories I could tell you this morning. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you by telling you about the time I hooked my dad in the leg while casting my line. Or about how I would never consider baiting my own hook or taking a fish off the line – ewww! Most of my fish stories don’t end well.

I do want to tell you my favorite fish story of all time. My five year old neighbor (his family had a pond as well) told us one day about this fish he had caught the week before. He was animated and kept holding his hands up to show us how big it was. My mom looked at him and said, “Wow! I bet that fish gets bigger every time you tell that story!” He looked at my mom deadpan and exclaimed, “No it doesn’t because I ate it!”

I imagine many of you have some good fish stories you could tell as well. Our Gospel writer gets in on the action today too.

John tells the story of several disciples going out into the Sea of Tiberias to go fishing. Things do not go well that night at all. They don’t catch a single fish. Then, as day breaks, they see someone up on the shore who asks them how things are going. “Not well,” they reply. This random person tells them to cast their net on the other side of the boat. And we're told in the reading, they just do it.

Am I the only one who finds this a little strange? This is one of those moments in Scripture where we have to read some between the lines. My hunch is these seasoned fishermen tossed that net to the other side of the boat with a little bit of attitude and eye rolling. It wasn’t until they reaped a big reward for doing so, that they started to consider who that actually was up on the shore.

John looks at Peter and asserts it is Jesus. Peter in his usual fashion goes to the extreme and jumps out of the boat to get to Jesus. Side Note: John knows he’s wrong for including that little detail about Peter having to put some clothes on, but I digress. A quirky detail we’re given, but I suppose it wouldn’t be a fish story without some veering off topic.

They all get to the shore and Jesus is hanging out by the fire cooking. He invites them to breakfast. They sit there with the risen Lord not saying a word about who he is even though they know it’s him.

I’m trying to place myself in this story with the disciples. It’s been a long night that seemed bleak and then suddenly turned around. As our psalmist reminds us, joy comes in the morning. Let’s be honest, it’s been a pretty bleak couple of weeks for them that have seemed hopeless. It’s fair to say they’ve been through it. I imagine they have experienced confusion and fatigue with small glimmers of hope in the appearances of Jesus.

So, how does Jesus respond knowing all these things? He gives them food and makes them a meal. He tends to have a knack for turning to the basics in the face of hardship, doesn’t he? Remember the night before his death, he gave his disciples a meal.

N.T Wright puts it this way, “When Jesus wanted to explain to his disciples what his death was all about, he didn’t give them a theory, he gave them a meal.” And here in resurrection, we see him doing the same thing. He’s not lecturing the disciples; he’s caring for them. Even in his dialogue with Peter, Jesus is repeatedly telling him, “Take care of my people.”

It’s easy to be swept up in the big parts of this story and miss this subtle act and teaching of Jesus. Can you just imagine the retelling of this fish story?

“There were so many fish that it took all of us to drag them to the shore. It was wild though because the net didn’t even tear! But I’m telling you there had to be at least 153 of them. And they were big!”

Jesus just chilling out on the beach and providing breakfast might be the best part. It really is so beautiful. There’s a tenderness in its simplicity that I find very comforting and reassuring. It’s like a long deep breath that gives permission for us to just be and let ourselves be cared for.

The book, Inspired, that we read throughout Lent has a whole chapter on Fish Stories. Throughout the chapter, Rachel Held Evans talks about the miracle stories of Jesus and this story comes up. She shares how a young mother recalled this particular Bible story as one of her favorites.

Rachel nods her head in agreement and says, “I like that one too.” She goes on to write, I “then posited the theory that the number 153 in rabbinic numerology signifies completion and perhaps corresponds to a specific prophesy in Ezekiel that describes a great river full of all kinds of fish flowing out a restored temple. It’s worth noting that John emphasized that the net was full and not torn, which means the net might symbolize the church, holding a great diversity of fish together in unity. Early Christian art depicts Peter and John holding a net on either side of a stream flowing from a temple, suggesting they made that connection too.”

She finally stops talking and the young mother replies, “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about all that…I just like the idea of God frying up fish for breakfast.”

I was tempted in my preparation for this sermon to chase all those theological rabbits too. After all, there is a lot happening here.

But I’m thinking sometimes all we need is a good reminder that Jesus made breakfast and invited his people to join him.

And that’s a pretty amazing fish story.