New Beginnings
April 18, 2010
The Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Acts 9:1-6; John 21:1-19
The place I first saw the Sea of Galilee close up last summer was the place that is the traditional site for this story of Peter and Jesus. We don’t know for sure that it was the place, but it easily could have been. It was not too far from Capernaum, where Peter’s home was, and it was a gentle shoreline, easily accessible from the water. It would be a lovely place for a beach breakfast.
This story is the fourth experience of the risen Jesus by the disciples in John’s Gospel. While the other experiences have certainly been joyous Easter experiences for the disciples in general, they have to have been bittersweet for Peter. We didn’t review this story this year, but all four Gospels tell the story of Peter denying Jesus – Jesus had predicted it during the Last Supper, and within 12 hours, after the arrest of Jesus, when people approached Peter saying, “weren’t you one of his followers?” Peter became frightened and denied knowing Jesus – not once, not twice, but three times. And then in John’s accounts of the disciples and the risen Jesus, Peter is there – but there is no record of any special exchange between Peter and Jesus. So Peter may well have been particularly demoralized – Jesus had called him into leadership earlier and had consistently pulled him aside with only a couple of others, but then, that was before Peter had denied Jesus. So at this point, post-denial, when there has been no significant contact between Peter and Jesus, surely Peter is feeling many things: gladness at the resurrection, perhaps, but also something kind of hollow in the absence of any clear direction for what comes next, and lingering remorse and shame over his having denied Jesus. I wonder if it was worse for Peter that Jesus had predicted it? Not only was he fearful and disloyal, but apparently transparently so – it can’t have been a good time for Peter.
So as Peter and the others had gone out fishing – I wonder if Peter was thinking at this time, about the time he had met Jesus – according to three of the gospels, it had happened while he was fishing with some of the others who would also become disciples, at that time he was known as Simon – and how much had changed for them all since that time, even his name, because Jesus had called him Peter, and here they are fishing again. And coming up empty – how demoralizing that had to be. After all that was baffling about Jesus, after all that was challenging, and frightening, and grievous – they went back to what they knew… and how many of us have learned that you can’t really go back? It’s never the same.
And Jesus appears on the beach, but they don’t recognize him… who knows why? The distance perhaps? The incongruity? Or just because that’s how the resurrection appearances go…. And he directs them where to fish, and the nets come up fuller than full, and they know. Because in the presence of Jesus, they might be confused, they might be challenged, but they never were empty….with Jesus there was always a sense of abundance, overflowing hearts and overflowing nets. And the joy of Peter overflows now, too, and he can’t wait for the boat to get to shore – he is in the water, splashing happily to the shore for this reunion. And so they all eat together, and after the meal, while they are relaxing together, and Jesus asks Peter – not once, not twice, but three times: do you love me? And Peter responds quickly, full of commitment, yes,yes, yes, you know that I love you and Jesus answers him feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.
And so, just like that, Peter is rehabilitated, recommissioned, and redeemed. Would we have done it that way? No way – we would have required a really heartfelt statement of regret. We might have expected a statement of faith, a creed, some assurance of orthodoxy – of right belief. But Jesus, thank God, is not like us. Jesus asks what really matters – do you love me, Peter? And when Peter says, yes, Lord, you know I love you – Jesus welcomes him back and gives him a mission.
David Lose, professor of homiletics at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, writes that there have been many studies in recent years about what produces deep happiness – and he comments: “While the research covers a lot of ground and is certainly nuanced at points, much of the data seem to overlap at a deceptively simple conclusion: whatever else may be helpful – health, wealth, and what not – two things are absolutely essential to feel happy: 1) a sense of belonging to a community and 2) the belief that what you do matters. Those are the two key predictors of fulfillment and productivity: belonging and purpose.”
Or you could say relationships and vocation – and we could notice that these reflect two essential attributes of God as revealed in the Bible: immanence and transcendence. Immanence is how we describe the God who draws near to us, the God we see in Jesus, the God who in the Older Testament tenderly describes divine love for people – this is the God of “Jesus Loves Me” and “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”…. The God who is immanent is near to us and vulnerable with us. This is the God of the still, small voice: this is the God who loves us.
The transcendent God is God the Almighty, God the Creator of all that is, God the ruler of the universe, God beyond us, unknowable, or – in my favorite theological word: ineffable. This is the God of “How Great Thou Art” and “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.” The God who is transcendent is the God who connects us to a purpose beyond ourselves, this is the God of earthquake, wind and fire: this is the God who calls us.
Saul was a Pharisee, who was unusually angry about the Christians – those known at the time as People of the Way. He was waging a personal war against the early church. He presided over the stoning to death of Stephen – the first martyr of the early church. And now he was on his way to arrest or kill any he could find, when out of the blue, there was a blinding light, and Saul heard the voice of Jesus, and nothing was ever the same.
We would not have chosen this man to carry God’s Word throughout the Roman Empire. We would not have chosen him to establish and nurture churches – in Corinth, in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Colossas, in Thessalonika. We certainly would not have chosen his voice to dominate the writings of the early Church. And yet, God chose this man. And changed his life, and as God often has, changed his name so that Saul became Paul.
In both these men, God took someone who was led by their fears – and through their experiences with God, they became people who lived out of hope, who didn’t let uncertainties limit their efforts for God, who allowed themselves to let go of their own agendas, their own efforts, their own limitations, and embrace a larger life in God. They became men of courage and joy, when they had been men of fear, shame and hatred.
Their stories began in a time not unlike our own – things had changed and what was most clear was that nothing would be the same. Where we are dealing with economic uncertainty and a spirit of partisanship that undermines all efforts to build community – people don’t have time for being together, people are too rushed to relax, and too fearful to befriend one another. And our sense of security is so fragile that we aren’t able to give much grace – we judge others, find them guilty, and don’t look for or trust the possibility of change – in others or ourselves. Rather than looking at folks who disagree with us as people we need to partner with and listen to, with whom to seek common ground, we look at them as “those on the other side” and we want little to do with them.
But God is a God of change and Easter is the season when we celebrate the hope we have in God, a hope that says that change is always possible, in God; that courage is always possible, in God; that joy is always possible, in God; that love is always and everywhere possible in God. In Easter, we come alive to love.
We have the opportunity to choose between fear and hope, and the choice will determine how we experience ourselves, and each other. When we allow fear to be our guide, we will always be worried about having enough, and being enough – we will need to be right, and we will need to prevail. When we are guided by fear, others are always a threat to us, and so we are always on guard. When we are living by fear, we need to be with those who agree with us, who are like us, and what people think about us matters enormously. When we live by fear, we always afraid of not measuring up, and uncertainty is very threatening. When we’re living by fear, the wolf is at the door, and we resent spending time or money on anything but our own family, our own church. When we are living by fear, the bottom line is power.
When we are living by hope, we don’t need to be enough or have enough, because God is good and God is enough. When we are living by hope we know that we aren’t always right, but we trust that we can learn from others. When we are living by hope, we acknowledge our need for others and we recognize that at our best we don’t need to be best – we want to be open to the gifts and insights of others, and we understand community as a open place where we welcome others and know ourselves to be welcomed. When we live by hope, what others think about us is none of our business – we know we’re imperfect and we’re grateful to be on the way, and curious about what will come next. When we’re living by hope, we are able to be generous, and we enjoy spending time and money deepening our connections to others. When we live by hope, the bottom line is love.
Simon and Saul were living by fear – they were trying to secure themselves in a world that was uncertain and threatening. Simon and Saul couldn’t keep their own lives together, much less lead others into a new way of life. But Simon and Saul allowed themselves to be loved by God, and in that love to find themselves, to allow themselves to be changed, and they became agents of hope. Peter and Paul were open to God, and they became leaders of the early church, and they were leaders of courage, and joy and love.
These days it’s easy to be fearful – everyone’s job is insecure at some level, people are so quick to condemn others, and grace is in short supply. But we have a choice – we can live reactively, always worried about what will come next and ready to defend ourselves and our way – or we can live responsively, aware of the gifts of God and grateful for them, seeking God’s leading, and trusting that in God, life will always bear an essential goodness, no matter what our circumstances. When we are baptized, we are acknowledging that God is the central reality upon which we want to found our lives, and that being God’s child is who we will be. As we baptize Karston this morning, let us each choose again to be people of hope, grounded in the love of God that claims us, and calls us to be people of hope. Amen.
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Acts 9:1-6; John 21:1-19
The place I first saw the Sea of Galilee close up last summer was the place that is the traditional site for this story of Peter and Jesus. We don’t know for sure that it was the place, but it easily could have been. It was not too far from Capernaum, where Peter’s home was, and it was a gentle shoreline, easily accessible from the water. It would be a lovely place for a beach breakfast.
This story is the fourth experience of the risen Jesus by the disciples in John’s Gospel. While the other experiences have certainly been joyous Easter experiences for the disciples in general, they have to have been bittersweet for Peter. We didn’t review this story this year, but all four Gospels tell the story of Peter denying Jesus – Jesus had predicted it during the Last Supper, and within 12 hours, after the arrest of Jesus, when people approached Peter saying, “weren’t you one of his followers?” Peter became frightened and denied knowing Jesus – not once, not twice, but three times. And then in John’s accounts of the disciples and the risen Jesus, Peter is there – but there is no record of any special exchange between Peter and Jesus. So Peter may well have been particularly demoralized – Jesus had called him into leadership earlier and had consistently pulled him aside with only a couple of others, but then, that was before Peter had denied Jesus. So at this point, post-denial, when there has been no significant contact between Peter and Jesus, surely Peter is feeling many things: gladness at the resurrection, perhaps, but also something kind of hollow in the absence of any clear direction for what comes next, and lingering remorse and shame over his having denied Jesus. I wonder if it was worse for Peter that Jesus had predicted it? Not only was he fearful and disloyal, but apparently transparently so – it can’t have been a good time for Peter.
So as Peter and the others had gone out fishing – I wonder if Peter was thinking at this time, about the time he had met Jesus – according to three of the gospels, it had happened while he was fishing with some of the others who would also become disciples, at that time he was known as Simon – and how much had changed for them all since that time, even his name, because Jesus had called him Peter, and here they are fishing again. And coming up empty – how demoralizing that had to be. After all that was baffling about Jesus, after all that was challenging, and frightening, and grievous – they went back to what they knew… and how many of us have learned that you can’t really go back? It’s never the same.
And Jesus appears on the beach, but they don’t recognize him… who knows why? The distance perhaps? The incongruity? Or just because that’s how the resurrection appearances go…. And he directs them where to fish, and the nets come up fuller than full, and they know. Because in the presence of Jesus, they might be confused, they might be challenged, but they never were empty….with Jesus there was always a sense of abundance, overflowing hearts and overflowing nets. And the joy of Peter overflows now, too, and he can’t wait for the boat to get to shore – he is in the water, splashing happily to the shore for this reunion. And so they all eat together, and after the meal, while they are relaxing together, and Jesus asks Peter – not once, not twice, but three times: do you love me? And Peter responds quickly, full of commitment, yes,yes, yes, you know that I love you and Jesus answers him feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.
And so, just like that, Peter is rehabilitated, recommissioned, and redeemed. Would we have done it that way? No way – we would have required a really heartfelt statement of regret. We might have expected a statement of faith, a creed, some assurance of orthodoxy – of right belief. But Jesus, thank God, is not like us. Jesus asks what really matters – do you love me, Peter? And when Peter says, yes, Lord, you know I love you – Jesus welcomes him back and gives him a mission.
David Lose, professor of homiletics at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, writes that there have been many studies in recent years about what produces deep happiness – and he comments: “While the research covers a lot of ground and is certainly nuanced at points, much of the data seem to overlap at a deceptively simple conclusion: whatever else may be helpful – health, wealth, and what not – two things are absolutely essential to feel happy: 1) a sense of belonging to a community and 2) the belief that what you do matters. Those are the two key predictors of fulfillment and productivity: belonging and purpose.”
Or you could say relationships and vocation – and we could notice that these reflect two essential attributes of God as revealed in the Bible: immanence and transcendence. Immanence is how we describe the God who draws near to us, the God we see in Jesus, the God who in the Older Testament tenderly describes divine love for people – this is the God of “Jesus Loves Me” and “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”…. The God who is immanent is near to us and vulnerable with us. This is the God of the still, small voice: this is the God who loves us.
The transcendent God is God the Almighty, God the Creator of all that is, God the ruler of the universe, God beyond us, unknowable, or – in my favorite theological word: ineffable. This is the God of “How Great Thou Art” and “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.” The God who is transcendent is the God who connects us to a purpose beyond ourselves, this is the God of earthquake, wind and fire: this is the God who calls us.
Saul was a Pharisee, who was unusually angry about the Christians – those known at the time as People of the Way. He was waging a personal war against the early church. He presided over the stoning to death of Stephen – the first martyr of the early church. And now he was on his way to arrest or kill any he could find, when out of the blue, there was a blinding light, and Saul heard the voice of Jesus, and nothing was ever the same.
We would not have chosen this man to carry God’s Word throughout the Roman Empire. We would not have chosen him to establish and nurture churches – in Corinth, in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Colossas, in Thessalonika. We certainly would not have chosen his voice to dominate the writings of the early Church. And yet, God chose this man. And changed his life, and as God often has, changed his name so that Saul became Paul.
In both these men, God took someone who was led by their fears – and through their experiences with God, they became people who lived out of hope, who didn’t let uncertainties limit their efforts for God, who allowed themselves to let go of their own agendas, their own efforts, their own limitations, and embrace a larger life in God. They became men of courage and joy, when they had been men of fear, shame and hatred.
Their stories began in a time not unlike our own – things had changed and what was most clear was that nothing would be the same. Where we are dealing with economic uncertainty and a spirit of partisanship that undermines all efforts to build community – people don’t have time for being together, people are too rushed to relax, and too fearful to befriend one another. And our sense of security is so fragile that we aren’t able to give much grace – we judge others, find them guilty, and don’t look for or trust the possibility of change – in others or ourselves. Rather than looking at folks who disagree with us as people we need to partner with and listen to, with whom to seek common ground, we look at them as “those on the other side” and we want little to do with them.
But God is a God of change and Easter is the season when we celebrate the hope we have in God, a hope that says that change is always possible, in God; that courage is always possible, in God; that joy is always possible, in God; that love is always and everywhere possible in God. In Easter, we come alive to love.
We have the opportunity to choose between fear and hope, and the choice will determine how we experience ourselves, and each other. When we allow fear to be our guide, we will always be worried about having enough, and being enough – we will need to be right, and we will need to prevail. When we are guided by fear, others are always a threat to us, and so we are always on guard. When we are living by fear, we need to be with those who agree with us, who are like us, and what people think about us matters enormously. When we live by fear, we always afraid of not measuring up, and uncertainty is very threatening. When we’re living by fear, the wolf is at the door, and we resent spending time or money on anything but our own family, our own church. When we are living by fear, the bottom line is power.
When we are living by hope, we don’t need to be enough or have enough, because God is good and God is enough. When we are living by hope we know that we aren’t always right, but we trust that we can learn from others. When we are living by hope, we acknowledge our need for others and we recognize that at our best we don’t need to be best – we want to be open to the gifts and insights of others, and we understand community as a open place where we welcome others and know ourselves to be welcomed. When we live by hope, what others think about us is none of our business – we know we’re imperfect and we’re grateful to be on the way, and curious about what will come next. When we’re living by hope, we are able to be generous, and we enjoy spending time and money deepening our connections to others. When we live by hope, the bottom line is love.
Simon and Saul were living by fear – they were trying to secure themselves in a world that was uncertain and threatening. Simon and Saul couldn’t keep their own lives together, much less lead others into a new way of life. But Simon and Saul allowed themselves to be loved by God, and in that love to find themselves, to allow themselves to be changed, and they became agents of hope. Peter and Paul were open to God, and they became leaders of the early church, and they were leaders of courage, and joy and love.
These days it’s easy to be fearful – everyone’s job is insecure at some level, people are so quick to condemn others, and grace is in short supply. But we have a choice – we can live reactively, always worried about what will come next and ready to defend ourselves and our way – or we can live responsively, aware of the gifts of God and grateful for them, seeking God’s leading, and trusting that in God, life will always bear an essential goodness, no matter what our circumstances. When we are baptized, we are acknowledging that God is the central reality upon which we want to found our lives, and that being God’s child is who we will be. As we baptize Karston this morning, let us each choose again to be people of hope, grounded in the love of God that claims us, and calls us to be people of hope. Amen.