#easteragain

Before Jesus called them, most of the disciples had been fisherman. It was their occupation. They supported their families by fishing. Likely it was their identity too. They were multi-generational fisherman. They were part of fishing families and fishing communities. (Don't worry, I don't intend to make a metaphor out of this.)

I suspect that the story we read from John today comes from different origins than the other Easter stories in John. It got edited in as the third appearance, but it works pretty well as a stand alone story, and it likely was one. Peter is presented as the natural leader. He says he wants to go fishing, and everyone else says they'll go with him. It makes a lot of sense that fisherman born and bred would return to the Sea in the midst of turmoil when they didn't know what else to do.

I don't know enough about fishing the Sea of Tiberias to know if a night's fishing being utterly unsuccessful was common, but I'm also not entirely sure that the disciples would have spent much of their energy trying to catch fish that night. It seems that the comfort may have been the familiarity of the surroundings and the nighttime freedom to talk or not as they wished. It was a good place to grieve.

Now the bit in the story about casting the nets “to the other side” and having fish essentially leap into them seems like it is set up for allegory, but I'm going to leave those be and simply point out that in that moment Jesus was recognized. In fact, John recognized Jesus, but Peter jumped out of the boat to swim to him. People are different, and have different skills and responses. One can figure out what is going on, another is quick to respond with joy.

I've been trying to figure out why Peter would get dressed and THEN jump into the water, when most people would do it the other way. I guessed maybe it was a sign of respect for Jesus, but I looked it up in the Jewish Annotated New Testament and all they had to say was, “It is odd that Peter dresses and then jumps into the sea.”1

The best part of this story happens when they all get to shore. Jesus has made a fire and prepared some fish and bread, although he adds to the fire some of the fish they'd caught. In the Emmaus story, the disciples know Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but in this story they knew him in the abundance he provided of the fish. Yet the way that he shares the food still rings with celebration of communion. “Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.” (v. 13)

This is the first and only meal that it is said Jesus cooks. He makes them breakfast after they've been out on the water all night tending their souls.  He provides for them when they need it most. It is an extraordinary little story in that way, Jesus is a bit more domestic than we otherwise see him. Before the resurrection he cared for people's physical needs on a regular basis, but not as the cook. This is a bit earthier!

The story almost suggests that the disciples were silent through the meal, but we really don't know. The sweet, strange story of the nets full of fish and breakfast waiting on the shore turns toward Peter giving him both an opportunity for forgiveness and a direction in life. Often this part of the story has gotten my fuller attention. Today I simply want to point out that the three questions seem likely to exist in order to erase the three denials that had earlier occurred. Secondly, the three questions have slightly different nuances, but they're insignificant. Jesus instructs Peter to tend and feed the sheep and lambs as a response to Peter's love for Jesus.

The work that had been Jesus' is now passed on. In this case is is to Peter, but by extension to all of us. That's the Easter story again, for those who are slow to pick up on it. At the end of this passage is a line I hadn't really heard before. In the end of the conversation Jesus says to Peter, “Follow me.” I find the Gospel of John annoying at times, but it is also a work of brilliance. In John's version of the call of the disciples, Jesus doesn't call Peter! Peter's brother Andrew started following Jesus and invited Peter to come along. Peter's call to follow doesn't happen until this conversation! It also become a call to all who hear – those who weren't called in the beginning of the story are still called to follow by the end of it. Furthermore, the call to “follow” happens during the LAST vision of Jesus' resurrection, in John. The following has to happen by the guidance of the Spirit and the capacity of the disciples to trust themselves to know what to do!

It has struck me this week how displacing all of this would have been for the disciples. They'd been displaced by choosing to travel with Jesus and had given up the lives they knew. Then they were displaced by the death of Jesus, and lost the life they'd come to know with him. That's where we found them at the beginning of the story, trying to find their place again by returning to the lives they knew. Instead, by the end of today's story all sense a security has been stripped from them. They are to continue the work of Jesus, but without Jesus. They are to upset the system of the Empire, without any promises of safety, and indeed Jesus points out that they too will suffer by tending and feeding the sheep and the lambs. The fishermen and their families from Galilee who wandered the Jewish countryside with Jesus end up settling in Jerusalem and leading the rest of the followers of The Way... lives still changed by the words “Follow me.”

I'm stuck as well that their lives moved from pretty “normal” to very abnormal. They were regular people, working hard to make their lives go as well as they could before they met Jesus. They were productive members of society, making money in one of the standard ways. They were contributing to society.

And then Jesus displaced them.

Just as Jesus didn't work for money during his ministry, as far as I can tell, the apostles didn't work for money again after his resurrection. They were so busy leading The Way, that they couldn't. Other people's offerings supported their lives.

Which is to say they “stopped” contributing to society. They were no longer productive workers. Isn't that funny? The Protestant Work Ethic is a real thing, and in the USA many of us were practically suckled on it. Yet the followers of Jesus stepped out of the system of productivity in order to redistribute resources and teach another way. It is as if their lives were the Sabbath of the Hebrew Bible, a reminder that life is more than productivity and contributions to society, that we are made in the image of God, and we are whole already as we are. They began to live Sabbath – to focus on relationships and not on work. That's some serious displacement.

There are rather amazing parallels between today's Gospel lesson and the story of the conversion of Saul. For the first time, I noticed that the conversion wasn't REALLY instantaneous, as I've often heard people describe it. Yes, he had an instant where he fell, and he became blind, and he had a conversation with Jesus (who was dead.) But he had the scales on his eyes for 3 days, while fasting, before Ananias comes to talk with him and they fall off. At that point he got baptized, but he was with the disciples for “several days” after that and THEN he began to preach about Jesus saying, “He is the Son of God.” (Which, just in case you didn't know, was blaspheming the Emperor of the Roman Empire who claimed that particular title as one piece of his authority.)

Saul's displacement happened in about a week. He thought he knew what his contribution to society was. In addition to making his living as a tent-maker (which he continued to do), his passion was caring for the faith by making sure that heresies and bad teaching didn't take seed in the faith that formed his life. He was convinced that the followers of Jesus' way were the problem, and he was willing to use his life to fix it – until this happened. Then he took his passion and conviction and used to FOR the good of The Way of Jesus.

Have you ever seen that video of a random person dancing to the beat of their own drum in random places? It ends up making the point that one person dancing is one person dancing! However, the moment a second person chooses to join in, the first time a follower joins in, it usually becomes a dance party. Sometimes it is one person who dances, sometimes it is hundreds, but the difference is not the first dancer – it is the second.

It is possible that Paul is the “second dancer” of The Way of Jesus. Jesus was the first dancer. He is the one who offered a new take on life and way to deny the powers of the world by focusing on the creative love of God. But Paul is the one who, by following, brought people along. I think the rest of the disciples would have continued to share the message and it would have mattered but only within Judaism. Paul was the one who took the message to the Gentiles, which is super ironic since he was the one who cared most about the faith of Judaism to begin with. He is also the one who pushes for full inclusion of Gentiles in The Way, without conversion to Judaism. Jesus may have founded a movement, but Paul made it popular.

Paul's displacement pulled out of everything he cared about, including his own life, but gave him a way to change the history of the world. He did continue to make a living for himself, but his real contributions were in sharing a story he'd once found offensive enough to stop by any violent means necessary.

In seminary, as in much of Christianity, there was often a focus on stories of conversion. People talked about the rough lives they'd led, and when they'd connected with God anew, and how that had guided them to ministry. At times I'd get annoyed with the stories, but often I felt insufficient by not having a story of my own. I was raised in United Methodist Church that I loved, I went to church camp, I adored it, at 13 I first considered becoming a pastor, and I'd followed that path from that point on.

In class one day we were assigned to discuss something about conversion in a small group and my friend Andre, who had one of those“standard' conversion stories offered me a great gift. He asked if I had been “converted” and I said no, and I think I hung my head in shame. We weren't particularly close, but I think he'd listened to me very deeply to that point. He asked if there was a point in my life when I realized that although my life was good, not everyone else had it as easy. I looked up and said YES, and started telling the story of the first time I'd noticed. He smiled at me and said that I was one of the people with an inverted conversion story. My conversion was realizing how broken the world was and being moved to participate in healing it. Put another way, becoming aware of my privileges and that they weren't shared was a form of conversion. That is a story that I've lived time and time again.

It has been displacement for me at times too. As it was for Peter, and for Paul, and as it has been for people who didn't have a connection to the Divine and later found one. God messes things up. God displaces us so that we can be placed appropriately. And frankly, God seems to do it often. So the next time you are trying to contribute to the world and it all gets turned upside down, remember that God may be displacing you – for the sake of good. Amen

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1 The Jewish Annotated New Testament: New Revised Standard Version Bible Translation, edited by Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady