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Sermon - April 22nd, 2007
Re-Orientation
Rev. Gwen Drake
Scripture: John 21:1-19
Seven of the disciples decided to go fishing. It was a natural place for them to return considering what had just happened in their lives. The world was different for them now. Life had changed. I mean really changed. One day he was with them. One day he wasn't. And this resurrection thing--what was that about? They didn't know. Reality was settling in. So, they went fishing.
Fishing was their job--or it was, before Jesus showed up. It was not something they did for pleasure or relaxation. They fished for a living. They fished with big, heavy nets that reeked of that unforget table fishy smell. They hauled those knotted nets out of the bottom of the boat with hands that were calloused from years and years of casting and knotting and straining against the ropes. So when they decided to go fishing, it was not a decision to daydream or rest. It was a decision to return to their former, familiar way of life. It was a decision to go back to the only thing they knew how to do without Jesus.
It's what I would have done. It's what I do, when I can. In times, like this week, after what happened on Monday, I want to be somewhere comfortable, familiar. Give me a deep, long breath full of the aroma of sagebrush, or sweating horses, or rain coming after a long dry spell. Give me Eastern Oregon hills, wheat fields, blue skies and the sun--a place where change is slow, and people remember you for who you were, not who you are now. It's a step backward for me, into memory, into a place where I don't have to face the future..yet. It is also a place where I have this perception, as distorted as it is, where I feel safe.
Jesus was gone, his life on earth had ended, but theirs had not, and it was time for them to look after themselves again. So, they were fishing. Each of them deep in thought, I'm sure, when they climbed into the old familiar boat again. Each taking their old familiar places. They had all been there before, but when? A hundred years ago? Yesterday? Was it just a dream that was too good to be true, the way he walked up to them like someone he had known all their lives so that there was NO doubt what they would do when he called out to them to follow. Maybe it was just a dream and they should have known better than to have believed it, to have staked their lives on it, on something that came to such a quick and bloody end. They should have known that it would all boil down to going back to the old grind. All of their wild, joyful, passionate expectations of the last three years with him had been reduced to the grim resignation of back to business as usual.
I do that to myself--when something comes to a bad end--I tell myself, I should have known better. I shouldn't have staked my life on something that came to such a bitter end. And I think of all the reasons I shouldn't have made that choice.
Only, like the disciples, it doesn't help. They were out there fishing all night without catching a single fish, not one. Time after time their nets came up empty, a perfect match for their hearts. So now what? They couldn't move forward; they couldn't go back. They were stuck in their own stuff. All they could do was sit in the dark and watch the sky change color as the sun rose over the sea. I know what that's like, being stuck, not being able to move forward or backward. It's almost as though I can feel the boat move with the water as the disciples sit there waiting in their confusion, their ambivalence, their fear, their indecisiveness. their guilt, their grief. Nothing would ever be the same again.
And that was when they heard the voice. They could not see anyone, they could hear someone, calling out to them across the water, guessing the truth--that they had no fish--and suggesting that they try the other side of the boat. So they did, and the water began to boil, all at once, so dense with fish that some of them were pushed right out of the water, their shiny fins glinting in the morning light. It was all so familiar again: the boat, the nets, the stranger calling out to them. It was not the end after all, or else the end had led them back to the beginning again.
"It is the Lord!" said the "beloved disciple," guessing the truth. And what had been a dismal midnight scene became pure pandemonium Peter threw himself into the water, leaving the others with all the hard work. They scrambled for their oars, catching up to Peter just as he reached the beach, and what all of them arrived to find was a charcoal fire with fish on it, and bread, and Jesus, their beloved cook. It was t he first meal of their new life together--a resurrection breakfast, prepared by the only one who knew the recipe.
From that point on, the Gospel story is about turning the resurrection story into a resurrection community. It was a re-orientation time. The world as they knew it was gone. It was time to start over in this new world.
I am sure we can all relate to the concept of re-orientation. Some of us more than others, depending on our experiences in life. But the world changes for us every time something like what happened last Monday happens, every time life doesn't turn out the way we thought it would, or should.
"Re-orient your lives." That was what Jesus was telling them when he told them to cast their nets on the other side. Forget everything you ever thought you knew about fishing. Forget everything you thought you ever knew about power and control. Get ready to revise all your notions about what makes someone great, or right, or worthy of your attention. If you think you know which way is up, think again. If you think you know how things should turn out in the end, get ready to be wrong. Jesus is about one surprise after another. You can not second-guess him. You want to know what you need to be doing? Try fishing from the other side of the boat. Try thinking outside of your box. Try re-orienting yourself. Why? Because the world is not what it was and it never will be.
Re-orient, re-invent your life. We don't do that very willingly, do we? I just have to look at the Bible to know that, or church history, or the church--besides looking at my own life. Some things never change. .. change is hard, and I usually do it with some kicking and screaming or at the very least, some whining and complaining.
I just love Peter. Peter had issues. Peter wasn't known for patience. It was Peter's idea to go fishing. Peter often threw caution into the wind. Peter said what was on his mind. He made mistakes. He boldly made mistakes. Peter is one of my many heroes. And I really don't think that Peter was ready to re-orient his life when they sat around th e camp fire that morning. I think this, because of what happened next.
Jesus had warned the disciples many times that he was going away and where he was going, they could not come, when he was alive. He gave them a new commandment, to love one another, just as he had loved them. He said, "If you have love for one another, everyone will know you are my disciples."
Peter did not like this kind of talk, not one bit. He protested, "Where are you going? Why can't I go there?" And Jesus told Peter that he would deny knowing him, not once but three times. And before Peter realized what he was doing, Peter denied knowing Jesus not once, but three times.
And now, here was his resurrected Lord, eating fish and breaking bread with them after the big catch. Was Peter unusually quiet around the campfire? Was Peter stuck in his own guilt? Did Peter not know what to say, what to do to move from the disciple who denied knowing Jesus to the disciple who was once again following Jesus? We can only imagine.
We do know, however, that when they had finished breakfast, Jesus turned directly to Simon Peter and asked him not once, but three times, "Do you love me?" And Peter answered, not once, but three times, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." And Jesus told him: 1) "Feed my lambs." 2) "Tend my sheep." 3) "Feed my sheep." And then finally, Jesus said to Peter, "Follow me."
Now, no matter how you look at this story, literally or metaphorically, we can not ignore how incredibly healing this is for Peter, to be able to tell Jesus of his love , not once, but three times And to hear from Jesus, then get on with doing my work in the world. Get on with being my disciple. Get on with the resurrection life. Re-orient, re-invent your life, Peter.
And isn't that what we are to do? Now, I don't mean that we move on without doing the work necessary for our souls to do that. Nikki Giovanni said to the Virginia Tech community--
"We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning. ... We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did nothing to deserve it, but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS, neither do the invisible children walking the night away to avoid being captured by the rogue army, neither does the baby elephant watching his community being devastated for ivory, neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water, neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy."
We join in this national mourning. We offer our prayers to the families and friends of those who died, those who were injured, to the Virginia Tech community, and all who have been affected by this tragedy.
Jim Wallis of the Sojourners Community writes: "Sorrow can sometimes prove redemptive in ways no one could have imagined beforehand. It’s time to let sorrow do its reflective and redemptive work, to hold the hands that need to be held, to let our tears open our hearts.... and to trust our pain to the loving arms of God."
I truly believe, with all my heart that through the chaos, the sorrow, the honesty, the getting real, the Spirit is moving as sure as we are breathing. God is calling us, as the church, as a group and as individuals, to "feed my sheep." Because that is what feeds our souls. It's not simply because we love Jesus. That's the easy part--loving Jesus. The hard part is loving one another. That's what Jesus was telling the disciples and us. "Love one another as I have loved you." It is the most healing thing we can do. It is the most profound and powerful thing we can do. It is the most redemptive thing we can do.
Carolyn Myss writes: “Everything we do counts. There is really no such thing as a small act of service or goodness…We need each other. We’re not meant to be completely independent, but to give and receive…the journey of the ‘ self’ also involves the journey of the ‘other.’”
It just may involve some re-orientation, some re-inventing, some thinking outside our usual boxes, and definitely lot of praying. I do have good news about that today-- the good news is that we are not alone. The divine force is at work with us and in us.
Amen.