Turning Points

Scriptures:     Acts 9:1-20,  Psalm 30

Revelation 5:11-14    John 21:1-25

Today we have two very different post-resurrection appearances of Jesus – that of Jesus to Peter and some of the disciples along the Sea of Galilee, and that of Jesus in a vision to Saul on the road to Damascus.  They are different because of the nature of the people to whom Jesus appeared – in the case of Peter, a disciple who, when he felt threatened, had turned his back on Jesus – and in the case of Saul, one who was violently threatening the followers of Jesus.

The post-resurrection appearances of Jesus have an odd, ethereal quality to them.  Jesus is the same as before the crucifixion, and yet not the same.  Of course, he’s not the same because of the marks of the nails in his hands and that of the spear in his side, which he showed to his disciples.  But there’s also a theme that those who encounter Jesus don’t immediately recognize him – Mary mistakes him for the gardener; the Emmaus road disciples don’t know who they’re talking to until they’re at table with the stranger they met on the road, and the disciples don’t immediately recognize Jesus in today’s story either.  As the story begins, it seems that the while the disciples are still hanging out together, in some ways they’ve gone back to their old lives, Peter and the others back to the fishing business they had pursued before they met Jesus.  But the fish are not jumping; instead, they’re hiding, and after a night of fishing they have nothing to show for their efforts.

I was at my monthly meeting of pastors last week, and we discussed this story, and one of the pastor commented that it has a kind of dreamlike quality to it – while we’re in the dream, the dream makes perfect sense, and yet the dream has a logic to it that may not make sense after we wake up.  On one hand, the story of the disciples fishing all night, catching nothing, and encountering a stranger to tells them to try fishing in a different spot and then being swamped with fish is very similar to how the disciples first encountered Jesus in Luke’s gospel, when Jesus told them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men” – the story of the disciples’ call in Luke chapter 5 and this story of their encounter with the Risen Christ in John chapter 21 are like bookends to Jesus’ ministry; today’s gospel reading brings their time with Jesus full circle. Of course, the catch of fish reminds the disciples of their first encounter with Jesus, and the disciple whom Jesus loved – the writer of John’s gospel – cried out, “It is the Lord!”  Peter became so excited he didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know whether he wanted to run to embrace Jesus or hide from him; as it was, he put his clothes on and jumped in the water, looking rather silly in the process.  The others drag the boat, now full of fish, to shore.  We’re told there were 153 large fish, and yet, we’re told, the net was not torn.  And here’s where, for me, the dreamlike quality of the story is strong: Jesus already has a charcoal fire going, and fish and bread on the fire – where did they come from?  I should note that the last time Peter had been at a charcoal fire was when he was warming himself by the fire after Jesus’ arrest, when he denied Jesus.  Jesus invited the disciples to add some of their fish to the ones Jesus already had on the fire, and to “Come and have breakfast.”  There’s that odd note again about Jesus being recognizable, John tells us that “nobody dared ask him “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord.”  But they wouldn’t have even considered the question if there hadn’t been some change in Jesus’ appearance from what they remembered before – they recognized Jesus through his actions, not his appearance.  As they shared the fish and bread around, the disciples may have been reminded of when Jesus fed the five thousand with just a few fish and loaves of bread, or when Jesus blessed the bread, broke it, and shared it with his disciples at the Last Supper.  So this was like old times, and yet different, both because Jesus was different somehow and because it was the last time in John’s gospel the disciples encounter the Risen Christ.

The description of the large catch of fish, 153 in all, yet without the net being torn, may also be John’s way of describing the early church – remember Jesus had earlier said that they would fish for people.  The analogy would be to large numbers of people, a motley, mixed group, coming into the fellowship of the church, and yet without the church breaking up or falling apart under the strain of so many new arrivals.  It’s a hopeful image, that the church of Jesus Christ is strong enough to withstand the strains that come when new people and new groups seek to join – the net is not torn, but is strong enough to contain and manage the strain of new relationships

And then a conversation between Jesus and Peter begins.  Even though they were together again, there was brokenness and strain in the relationship because of Peter’s denials of Jesus.  Peter still carried that guilt, and Jesus had to bring Peter to know that he was forgiven, and to forgive himself.  So Jesus asks Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”  And Peter says, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs.”  A second and a third time the question comes, and Peter feels pain when Jesus asks the third time – Jesus’ asking Peter three times to affirm his love for Jesus reminds Peter of his three denials of Jesus at the time of his arrest.  There are also some subtleties in the Greek that get lost in translation to English.  The first two times when Jesus asks Peter if he love him, he uses the word for agape love, the self-giving love of God for humans and the kind of love God asks of us.  Peter responds in both cases by saying, Yes, Lord, you know that I love you – using the word philia, meaning brotherly love – it’s where our city’s name came from.  The third time Jesus moves to Peters level, uses Peter’s word – Do you love me – philia – do you love me like a brother?  And Peter says, “You know all things, you know that I love  you like a brother.”   In all three cases, Jesus asked Peter to demonstrate his love through his actions – feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.  Just as the disciples recognized Jesus not by his appearance but by his actions, Peter’s love for Christ was to be shown not by words alone, but by actions.  Jesus told Peter that his Peter’s love for Jesus would be costly, that he would die a martyr’s death.   And then he said to Peter, as he had said to Peter when he first called the disciples, “Follow me.”

This was a painful conversation for Peter, but Jesus knew it was a necessary conversation.  Peter would have preferred that Jesus had been silent about his denial, but then Peter would have continued to carry that guilt.  Jesus knew that Peter could not move forward in faith until he knew that his failure had been forgiven.  And that’s how it is for us sometimes.  We’re wired instinctively either to use force to make pain stop, or to run from pain.  I tend toward the latter – I’ve said more than once that I hate difficult confrontations with the passion of a thousand burning suns.  And yet, sometimes, when relationship is broken, the only way to healing is through difficult but necessary conversation, to acknowledge pain and failure and offer and receive forgiveness.  We can learn from Jesus’ conversation with Peter in navigating the difficult relationships in our own lives.

In our reading from Acts, Paul’s relationship with Jesus starts from a very difficult place – Saul, as he was known before his vision of Jesus, was trying to arrest the followers of Jesus, was trying to shut down the church.  We’re told that he “breathed threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.”  He had arrest warrants for any in Damascus who followed in the Way of Jesus, and he wanted them killed, as he had earlier watched the stoning of Stephen, the first martyr, with approval.

It may sound barbaric, this business of arresting and murdering people because of their beliefs, a relic of its time, a relic some two thousand years behind us.   And yet this impulse to do violence to people of differing beliefs is sadly very much with us today.  We can easily point to the actions of the Islamic fundamentalist group ISIS in arresting and beheading those they considered nonbelievers, and those in Saudi Arabia who do the same, and we consider their actions barbaric – and they are!  But we must also remember that the same impulse that drove Saul and the members of ISIS and those in Saudi Arabia is the same impulse that drove those who opened fire on Muslim worshippers in a New Zealand mosque, the same impulse that led to the bombing of Christian churches in Sri Lanka during Easter services, the same impulse that has led to a number of shootings at synagogues in our country in recent years, such as the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh six months ago and the Chabad of Poway synagogue in the suburbs of San Diego, when a nice, cleancut Presbyterian boy, one John T Earnest, a nursing student, a member of the ultra-fundamentalist Escondido Orthodox Presbyterian Church – several church splits and splinter groups removed from the much larger and entirely mainstream Presbyterian Church USA of which Bridesburg Presbyterian was a member congregation - opened fire on worshippers as they were at Shabbat sabbath services on the last day of the holy festival of Passover.  John Earnest wasn’t some stereotypical scruffy, drooling mentally-fried middle-aged meth-head, missing teeth and brain cells - he was a clean-cut young man, age 19, just entering adulthood, just starting out in life, going to school to be a healer.  Had he shown up here for Easter services, I’d have been only too happy to welcome him to worship and stay for coffee afterward.  And yet John T Earnest had death in his heart.  The impulse that drove John Earnest is also the same impulse that has led to lynchings and attacks on women and gay-bashings over the decades in our country.  It’s the impulse – the evil impulse – that says that my relationship with God empowers me to attack and kill those who experience God in a different way, those of different faiths or those of no articulated faith, those whose race or gender or sexual orientation is different from mine.  It’s the impulse that says that one can express love and devotion to God through hate and violence toward others created in God’s image, hate and violence toward others of God’s children, the impulse that says, “God told me to hate you.”  But God is love, and love is the “new commandment” Christ gave  his followers.  The impulse to express religious devotion and enforce religious orthodoxy through violence toward others is an impulse that must be condemned at all times and in all places:  our violence brings God no glory.   The violence done by John T Earnest brought no glory to the name of Jesus Christ, only shame, only questions about what teachings he heard, about what gospel he heard, from the pulpit of his church.

Saul encountered a vision of the Risen Christ asking him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”  Saul asked, “Who are you, Lord?” Saul was told, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting, but get up and enter the city, and you’ll be told what to do.”  Saul had approached the city prepared to do violence, now, blinded by his encounter with Jesus, he had to submit meekly to being led by the hand.  We’re told that in Damascus was a believer named Ananias.  He heard the Lord giving him directions to find a man of Tarsus called Saul. And Ananias was appalled, recounting to God how much evil Saul had done to the church.  But God told Ananias that Saul was God’s instrument, and would suffer greatly for the name of Jesus.  And Ananias’ response is remarkable:  he went to the house where Saul was staying, called him brother, and laid his hands on Saul and prayed that he might receive both his sight and the Holy Spirit.  And Saul was baptized – it’s striking, no long period of instruction, just a change of heart.  And, of course, we know that the letters of Saul, later called Paul, make up a large proportion of the New Testament.   We can only wonder how Saul would be different, how our world would be different, how our lives here at Emanuel would be different, had Saul not experienced forgiveness and welcome and hospitality and Christian love from Ananias.  Saul began by breathing threats and murder, and by his vision of Christ was rendered as meek as a lamb – and later empowered to preached boldly but nonviolently the name of Jesus.  

It’s important to remember that the encounters with Peter and with Saul were initiated by Jesus.  Christ calls us – and calls us and calls us and calls us – before we can respond.  The call of Christ may begin as a vivid one-time event, Peter being swamped with more fish than he knew what to do with or Saul being blinded and knocked off his horse on the Damascus road.   We may have vivid events, turning points, in our lives, moments where we can describe our surroundings and all that happened, that we can point to as places where Christ met us and called us.  And if this service, or any worship service or event here at Emanuel is a turning point for anyone, let me know, and I can pray with you following worship for God’s guidance to turn to Christ for salvation. Or for others, brought up in the church, we may not be able to point to any moment, but only to Christ who is beside us at every moment on the journey.

But even after that initial response, Jesus continues to call us, as he called Peter to feed his lambs and tend his sheep, as he called Saul to preach the Gospel to the known world, especially to the Gentiles, as he called Ananias to open his heart to Saul, who had been a fierce enemy of the church, but was now God’s chosen instrument.  At the time of his call, Peter or Saul or even Ananias didn’t know where God would lead, only that It was God who led them, and that God who led them is faithful.  While we remember with gratitude the turning points in our lives, God does not call us to get stuck in that moment or to cling to it, but to follow where Jesus leads.  Christ leads us from isolation into community with others who we come to call our brothers and sisters, brothers and sisters who will walk with us on our journey through life.  And those around us will recognize Christ in us through our actions, as the disciples recognized the Risen Christ through his actions in their final encounter with him.

Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea.  Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling to you and to me.  Come unto me ye weary, and Christ will give you rest.  May we respond to Christ’s call, and where Jesus leads, may we follow. Amen.