IT IS THE LORD!Reading: John 21: 1-14
The scene is set at Lake Galilee and what happens is almost like a replay of an experience of three years previously. Peter and some of the other disciples have gone back to their old haunts. They feel a bit in limbo, because, while they know and are overjoyed that Jesus has risen, they don’t know what’s coming next or what they’re meant to be doing. In such a state, the inclination is to look to the familiar, what they’ve always known, and so they go fishing. As on that earlier occasion, they work hard all night and catch nothing. Dawn is breaking when they see a stranger on the shore who, in a repeat of Jesus’ instructions years before, tells them to cast out their nets again. The result is an enormous catch of fish. It is John who with the eyes of love sees far and recognizes the figure standing at the water’s edge. “It is the Lord!” he says to Peter. At this point Peter, impulsive as ever, jumps into the water and swims to land. So excited is he that he leaves the others to see to the mooring of the boat and pulling the loaded net ashore. There follows the hospitality of the lakeside, an invitation issued by Jesus to his awestruck disciples. Breakfast is an agape meal of bread and fish. This was Jesus’ third resurrection appearance to his disciples and probably the one that seemed most earthy to them, for here they were doing something very normal, breakfasting together on the shores of Lake Galilee as they’d have done so often in the past.
We know this account so well that it’s easy to miss out on some of the details of this perfectly planned event that was to lead to a healing of memory for Peter and the total assurance that he was accepted, forgiven, restored. Everything in it recalled significant events in Peter’s pre-resurrection story: the hard night, the meeting with the stranger, the miraculous catch of fish, the recognition of who Jesus was, the getting out of the boat to cross the water and be with him. The charcoal fire lit on the beach would have reminded Peter of the charcoal fire in the High Priest’s courtyard where he had said he didn’t know Jesus and the breakfast called to mind the last supper when Jesus served them as he was doing right now. It is a very special moment of table fellowship. In a sense what is happening is a retelling of Peter’s story, this time in the presence of the risen Lord. It was part of the healing process that Jesus knew Peter had to go through before he could really hear the commission he was to be given, the next stage of the journey he would be asked to travel.
Our lives are shaped by many things. We are, to a certain extent, moulded by the stories we inherit, those that have been handed down to us through the generations, that give us an identity, a sense of belonging. And they become part of us and we become part of them. But we also have our own story, those things, people and events that, taken together, create our own story that is unique and different from anyone else’s. People can go through the same set of circumstances and emerge with very different accounts of what happened. That’s partly because of the way we view things, how we see life, faith and so on. What we think of God, of ourselves and others, comes out in our stories. In fact, the stories we tell give a pretty good indication of who we are. An event or set of circumstances can be witnessed, experienced and told in a way that conveys a message of hope, of courage, of endurance, of keeping on going, even in the face of huge adversity, or in a way that sends out a message of fear, disillusionment, bitterness and desire for revenge.
Everyone has a story. You have one. I have one, or many! There are many people who have never had a chance to tell their story. There’s been, or they have thought there has been no one to listen to them, and, even if there had been, they had no guarantee that their story would be accepted, let alone believed by a sometimes hostile, often self centred and uncaring community. Some cannot even find the words to tell their story, yet it’s there; it’s very real and it’s waiting to be voiced. Every day we will encounter people and, by and large, will have little recognition of their deep anguish and pain. They have become so used to hiding it, or have been so wounded by the fact that there is no one to listen or really care that they put on a mask so that no one will know. There are those who travel through unresolved nightmares that often have not been of their own making and, yet, have profoundly affected their lives and the lives of those closely associated with them. Our own life experience colours what we hear and affects our reactions, but as those who believe in Jesus, crucified and risen, we are in a unique position to listen. As we bring with us the presence of the risen Lord, the sacred space of telling and listening becomes holy ground and there is a sense in which we then, too, become part of their story. In post conflict situations everywhere there is an enormous amount of listening to be done, an enormous amount of healing of memory that can only be done in the presence of the risen Lord and his incarnation in us. This is true on a national scale and at local community level. There is also an awful lot of pain and disillusionment directly or indirectly associated with ‘church’ that has deeply affected people’s view of God. There are other areas that are common to all of us because we share the collegiality of the feet of clay and, beyond the particular, a common anguish out of the experience of simply living. We have this good news to share of redemptive remembering, of forgiveness, of restoration, but we can only do so authentically if we have, at least a little, dared to walk that road ourselves. It’s the only way I know to reach that state of sanctified sensitivity, compassion and conviction necessary to accompany others on their road towards restoration where they, too, have that moment of recognition, “It is the Lord!” and know his healing touch in their lives. And, with some of our baggage out of the way, it also prepares us to hear the challenge of Jesus.
This is what happens for Peter. Jesus risen is the beginning of Peter’s journey of restoration. What a transformation takes place in this man, not admittedly all happening overnight, but what a remarkable process of challenge, of stretching, of understanding, of encouragement, of appropriating the promises of God, all leading him to be, along with others, the sort of rock foundation upon which Jesus can build his church.