1After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. 2Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. 3Simon 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, but that night they caught nothing. 4Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5Jesus said to them, ‘Children, you have no fish, have you?’ They answered him, ‘No.’ 6He said to them, ‘Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.’ So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. 7That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’ When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the lake. 8But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. 9When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.’ 11So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred and fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. 12Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ because they knew it was the Lord. 13Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead. 15When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ 16A second time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Tend my sheep.’ 17He said to him the third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ And he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep. 18Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.’ 19(He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, ‘Follow me.’
It’s a beautiful day today. I have heard the story of a pastor who on a beautiful day decided to find his sanctuary on the golf course. Using the excuse that he was sick, he got a substitute to fill in for him, then went out to play golf. And on a par 3 he hit the perfect shot. The ball landed on the green and rolled right into the cup. He jumped up and down with joy. Yet his joy was immediately turned to sorrow. Who could he tell?
I didn’t do that this morning. I did the same thing this morning that I’ve been doing for mornings for years. I made the sign of the cross and prayed. I prayed with thankfulness for being kept through the night, for strength for the day, and for all the people I love, my family, my extended family, you dear people of Holy Trinity, that you may be “nourished and centered in the gospel.” I prayed even for the people I don’t see: the poor, the sick, the suffering, the hungry, the dying, the grieving, the unemployed, the oppressed. I pray even for my enemies.
And all of this under the sign of the cross. The cross is for me both a no and a yes.
It’s a no to what I have of myself or of my own resources. It’s a no to the wrongs I have done. It’s a penitent no to who I am of myself.
But it’s also a yes—an embracing of Jesus’ yes. And Easter yes that fills my being and refreshes my soul. A promising yes that this day there is newness and hope.
The cross is sanctuary. And this morning, “just after daybreak,” we are called to reflect on our sanctuaries.
It was “just after daybreak” for Peter and his friends and they retreated to their own sanctuary on the lake. Faced with the tragedy of the loss of their messiah, he decides to spend the morning fishing.
Yet in this sanctuary, their nets come up empty. A shadowy figure appears on the shore of the lake. “Children,” he speaks patiently as a loving parent, “you have no fish, have you?” They respond, “no.”
Isn’t that what we are like this Sunday after daybreak, gathered in our sanctuary? Here we are, “just after daybreak” on this morning, as people who have sighed a hundred sighs this week. Here in our place of worship, we come caught up in our own mourning of the tragedies of this past week. Do we also come with our own need for reflection on the Easter promises of Christ as that which transforms our weakness into his strength?
We recall how it was “just after daybreak” on Monday this week. Snow was falling gently on the campus of Virginia Tech University. That was to be expected from the weather forecast. But unexpected was the rampage on a lone gunman. He would claim the lives of 32 victims, then his own. Several others were wounded. All of them would recover. But how will the community of Virginia Tech recover? How does any community recover from such a tragedy? How do we? “Children, you have no fish, have you?” Our own silence in the midst of it all, even called for times of silence, is to say, “no.”
To be sure, there is no accounting for the depths of the psychological trauma of this event. Universities will be more concerned than ever for security, those places where I have also taught, those called by President Bush “sanctuaries.” “When that sanctuary is violated, the impact is felt in every American classroom and every American community.”
Yet as Christians living through the traumas of these days, we may wonder what sanctuary brings the wholeness. We rarely see the need first to admit the “no” to the truth of our own resources. Times such as these lead us to see that we are without. But that is where we may find the strength of the “yes” that comes from God in Jesus the Christ.
“Children, you have no fish, have you?” Consider it a symbol, these fish, as energy, desire, hopes, dreams, visions. We don’t have these, brothers and sisters. We don’t. Our hands, our nets, our spirits, our very souls can be drained of hope. There is only one honest answer, one honest penitent answer: “no.” Let’s not cover it up. Let’s not disguise it.
But let us not also disparage the Easter message for us that shatters our grieving and our mourning with hope and promise. It comes at the very bottom of our rungs on the ladder. It comes with our very honest admission of “no.”
It is Jesus’ yes. “Cast the nets to the right side of the boat.” It was not just a fishing tip that the disciples had missed. It was an invitation to take Jesus’ promise at its Word. For all “no’s” in life, there is the side of the promise that Jesus gives us a yes, even beyond death itself.
And so “just after daybreak” he makes for them a feast of bread and fish, breaking it and giving it to his disciples. Just as this morning we are treated again to his feast of bread and wine. Come, eat, and enjoy the fruits of a kingdom that you could not prepare, but is prepared for you!
And then taking in his grace, we can be free to take up the discipleship of feeding and tending to the sheep. Jesus invites Peter to trust in the love that Jesus has for him, and the love that Peter has for his Lord. It’s about faith. Faith is the sanctuary that weathers the storms and gives us the strength to go about the feeding and tending in the Word that is always Easter.
You and I take in our Lord’s meal, and then become those who feed a world of hungry mourners. We feed them not of our own strength or resources, but that of our Lord’s. We feed them because Jesus would have them fed, not judged, not condemned, but called to turn around, to admit the weakness of “no”, and to embrace the promise of Christ’s yes!
This week will mark my 25th year in the ministry. And in all those years, my greatest sanctuary is to find the consolation of Christ’s love and mercy for my soul. When asked this week by Dan Glamann at the synod office what was most joyous aspect of my ministry in these many years, I wrote back two brief lines:
It was the clap and chant at the end that got them going at the VT memorial. “Let’s go Hokies!” What if the clap and chant for us is empowering, as empowering as praying “deliver us from evil” as they all prayed together in the Lord before that, and then putting our hands and our hearts into a clap and chant for Easter, “Let’s go Jesus!” What if, as counselor Tom Brown said, “we need to go where the hugs are,” and the hugs are here, as we gather in the name of our Easter Lord Jesus!
That name is above every name, in all our daybreaks, and in all our nightfalls!