John 21:1-19
“Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat.”
For most of us, these last few months have seen us on overload. Things are coming at us from all directions. We don’t know what will happen from one minute to the next. At this moment, two wars are being fought that do not seem to be ending any time soon. Our political and social situation in the country is constantly on the move, and the things we thought were secure are no longer secure. Even our life in the Church has been disrupted.
Times of peace and quiet have become much less frequent, and the stress that many people feel at work, home, and in daily life is matched only by the insanity of life that swirls all around us. One might wonder if much of what’s going on in our daily lives has contributed to the numbing of the human spirit, so we require loud or shocking experiences to get our attention.
This is, for many, what daily life is like now, but for some, the experience of emotional overload might finally come when they suddenly receive a medical diagnosis they were not expecting or some other news that comes out of the blue.
Experiences like these can overwhelm the human spirit, and many will seek comfort in a variety of familiar activities. Some will take refuge in the solitary labor of gardening, and others will reach for chocolate or go shopping. Some escape by losing themselves in a good book or a television program, while others may turn to drugs or alcohol.
For the disciples, these last few weeks have been overwhelming. Palm Sunday’s tension-filled, emotional high was followed by some rather unusual events, with Jesus flipping over tables in the Temple. The Passover meal, which usually brings a sense of familiarity and comfort, stood on its ear with accusations of betrayal and denial. The stillness of the garden was disrupted by armed soldiers and an arrest, a mock trial, a crazed mod out for blood, and finally, the execution of their friend.
In the hours following all these events, the disciples were huddled together in the upper room, crushed and numb. The human spirit can only take so much.
But then things shifted, and the emotional roller coaster took another unexpected turn. Mary brings back news of the empty tomb; they cannot fathom what is taking place. Jesus appears; Thomas doubts; Jesus comes again; it is hard to believe. These events would not only overwhelm the disciples, but they would also change the world forever.
Keep in mind that all the events we have discussed have taken place in the last two weeks. From the Last Supper to today, on the banks of the Sea of Tiberius, they have all happened in the last 14 or so days. I can only imagine the emotions they must be feeling at this moment.
I am, by nature, an introvert. It’s funny, but most ministers are introverts. It takes tremendous physical and emotional energy to do what we do. In addition, I am an empath, and I sense emotions. When I am in a room of people, such as I am right now, all your emotions are coming at me. I have to sort through them, compartmentalize them, and then strategize how I will deal with them. Over the years, I have learned that I cannot take all of this on board, and I have developed a process to maintain my sanity.
But at the end of the day, I am exhausted physically and emotionally. I need time to be alone, to process all that has happened and all that I have experienced. Before moving to town, I would accomplish this on the ride home, but now I have to process it quickly as I live just down the street.
We all need time to process; we all need the familiar routines of life to get back on track. Alongside my ministry with all of you, I am a grief counselor. I spend my days speaking with people about their loss and helping them discover the power within themselves to begin to heal. Sometimes, well, actually, most times, it gets very overwhelming, and I need to take a break. For just a few moments, I might walk outside, get a drink of water, or just sit and breathe. It is amazing how being attentive to your own breathing can calm you.
So, I am not at all surprised when Peter stands up amid all that has been going on and announces, “I am going fishing.” Going fishing is the most normal thing that Peter can do. One of the grief strategies I teach is getting back to life, getting back to the humdrum of your daily life as soon as possible. There is healing in routine, healing in the familiar.
For the grieving person, and the disciples are grieving, getting lost in one’s own thoughts can be dangerous. It’s not that you want to forget the person or thing you have lost, but healing begins when you accept the loss and begin the arduous task of moving forward. Peter decides to go fishing.
But we cannot retreat from life forever.
In the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, which we heard a few weeks ago, Peter tells Jesus that he wants to stay in this moment forever. Peter is happy; he feels warm and fuzzy in the presence of a transfigured Jesus. He does not want that to change all is right in Peter’s world. But Jesus points out that the work is not on the mountaintop; the work is in the valley.
Perhaps we would all like to stay right here, in the presence of God and in fellowship with one another, but the work we are called to is just outside that door, and it is important, holy, and sacred work.
The disciples had been fishing all night and caught nothing, but someone from the shore called them at daybreak. Their reality is smashed when one of them recognizes it is Jesus. All of them see Jesus, but only one of them, John, the Beloved Disciple who reclined with Jesus at the Last Supper, recognizes him. The one who placed his ear on Jesus’ chest and heard the very heartbeat of God recognized Jesus.
Could it be that “reclining with Jesus, ” spending tender time with the Lord in prayer, resting our mind at his heart, such quiet immersions of ourselves in the presence of God are the key to recognizing God in our daily lives?
Could it be that our desire to remain on the mountain, go fishing, or just keep busy keeps us from recognizing God’s presence in our lives, in the world, and in those we encounter along our journey? Could it be that our desire to remain busy and productive instead of “wasting time with God” in prayer often keeps us from recognizing God’s presence in our lives, the world, and those we encounter along our journey?
Resting and taking time away is good, but Jesus is standing on the shore calling and saying, “It is time to feed my lambs.”
Jesus is offering Peter and us a way to recognize and encounter the Divine in the day-to-day, as he tells Peter three times to feed his sheep. It is as if our denials are somehow redeemed by our loving encounters with God in the hungry and the poor.
But there are also clues about what we can do when we start to feel overwhelmed by life. Reclining with Jesus in prayer, resting in the Lord’s heart, sharpens our spiritual vision and helps us recognize the nurturing presence of the Lord, even in the most ordinary experiences of our lives.
Feeding the sheep and tending to the lambs is a tangible way of staying in relationship with the Lord and the best way to express the love we have for God, “not only with our lips but in our lives.”
Amen
