Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

Until I was almost five, we lived next door to my grandparents.  Many mornings, I would sit on our back steps and wait for my grandmother to look out the window and call me over.   I loved sitting with the two of them—usually in Granddaddy’s lap—getting fed bites of his toast and egg, listening to them talk about the day ahead, hearing my grandmother read from the Bible.  It was a good start to my day.  When my own children were young, and their days seemed packed with too many things to do, I tried to frame the day for them—and for me—the same way, easing into the day with good food, pleasant conversation, and a word from God.  

Food and love are intertwined for most of us: a birthday meal prepared with love—or purchased with love by someone who doesn’t cook; an invitation for tea and cookies and conversation; and of course, the meal Christ gives us at his table, feeding us with the bread of life and the cup of salvation.  In this story, as in the Lord’s Supper, food is an expression of Christ’s love for us. 

We might wonder why the gospel writer tacks this story on at the end.  It seems rather mundane, doesn’t it? , when he could have ended with the miraculous story about Jesus walking through a locked door and showing Thomas his wounds.

On the other hand, mundane is where we live.  The disciples were people like us.  Even though Jesus visited them after his death, he wouldn’t be staying long, and they had to figure out how to live without him.  Besides, he expected them to carry on his work--but how, without his guidance, his encouragement, his initiative?

So Peter took off fishing, and six of the other disciples went with him.  Perhaps there was a practical reason: they needed to feed their families.  But I suspect they went mainly because fishing is what they knew best—and it’s what they could expect to be successful at.  They didn’t have to think about how to do it—they just did it.  They didn’t have to think about the future, either.  When you fish, you deal only with the present.  And when you fish, you often have plenty of time to reflect, as you wait for the fish to come to you.

Fishing is better at night in the Sea of Tiberias, and fish caught at night brought a better price, because they could be sold fresh first thing in the morning.  But after a long night of fishing, the seven friends had nothing to show for their work.  It was one more discouragment, one more failure.  Their nets were as empty as their hearts.  The sky was as dark as their future.

Jesus appeared, just as the first rays of dawn lit the sky.  He came in the midst of their work, in the midst of their routine, in the midst of their sorrow and confusion.  “Put your nets out again, on the other side of the boat”, he told them.  Obeying, they were astounded when the nets filled to bursting with fish.  Then he called them to breakfast, feeding them, as he so often fed them in the past.

Communal meals have a big part in many of the gospel stories.  No wonder.  We must have food to live—but food by itself isn’t enough.  Eating alone can be lonely.  If you’re by yourself at mealtime, how many of you turn on television or open a book for company? …  Sharing food—eating meals together—nurtures our hearts as well as our bodies.  How much we enjoy the fellowship meals here!  No matter how great the food is, I believe we come mostly for what we get out of being together.  And when we eat together, Jesus—the risen Christ—just might join us, too.

Our lives are transformed when we share a meal with Jesus—and I’m not referring only to the Lord’s Supper.  When we offer a blessing over the food, we invite him to the table with us, even when there’s no human companion around.  If we take a meal to a sick friend, prepare a table for a bereaved family, carry Mobile Meals to someone unable to cook, or fill a grocery bag for people who have too little, Jesus goes with us, feeding us with God’s grace, as we feed others with food for body and soul.  Where love is, he is also.  But do we always recognize his presence in the food--and in the love?

God’s grace is enough—more than enough to feed our souls and all the souls in the world.  The abundant catch of fish suggests that Jesus’ gifts to his disciples continue, even after his death.  They remind us of the abundant life God wants for us—abundance of hope, of joy, of fellowship in the One who invites us to breakfast.

Breakfast: the meal that begins the new day.  Was Jesus showing his disciples that the supper they shared only days before was the end of their old life—and, that this breakfast at the dawn of a new day signaled the beginning of their new life? 

The way to live their new life opened up when he asked them to contribute what they had.  When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread.  Though he had already provided food, Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you just caught.”  He knows we need to feel worthwhile.  After their failures and denials, after their questions and fears, after their confusion about the future, Jesus tells them that they have something to contribute that he values: to feed and care for his people everywhere.  A new beginning, beginning with forgiveness, and then, important work to do, for him.  Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

When we have no hope, he brings possibility.  When we’re alone, he’s there.  When the net looks empty, it just might be full—if we will but look below the surface, and obey his instructions.  Live with expectation and hope.  All our endings have new beginnings when we start our day with him.