Resurrection Sermon

This sermon was prepared and presented for my final preaching assignment in The Church at Worship: Preaching class at Drew Theological School.

John 21:1-19

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Win, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that I t was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred years off. 

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net shore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was not the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead. 

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

The fishers of men have returned to their boats- and they can’t catch a single fish. It would seem that they are trying to move on with their lives. It is interesting that John never really identifies the disciples as fishermen like the authors of Matthew, Mark and Luke do, and yet this epilogue to John’s Gospel echoes the accounts found within the synoptic gospels where Jesus calls those first disciples away from their nets, away from the sea- when he calls them to fish for people. Perhaps, the disciples feel that, after the events leading up to and during the crucifixion, the people don’t want to be caught. Perhaps, even though they have seen the risen Christ at least twice now, they feel as if their work is done. Despite the fact that Christ has risen, perhaps they feel like his works and teachings are still buried in the tomb. Maybe this is why they go back to their boats.

I think moving on with your life can be a tricky thing. Whenever we experience great loss or disappointment, if we ever go through a traumatic experience, we need time. Time to move through stages of grief, from shock or denial, to anger, to bargaining, depression, and, finally, acceptance. I think all too often people don’t allow themselves the time to go through these stages; instead, they sometimes throw their energy into something else, be it home renovations, aggressively advocating for an unrelated cause, or even going fishing. I don’t know that the disciples really had the opportunity to fully experience and work through their grief. It really doesn’t matter if you know death is coming or not; even when a person is in their nineties, or have been struggling with a terminal illness, their death still seems to come as a surprise. You never seem ready for it. It doesn’t matter that Jesus continuously told the disciples he was going to die and rise, that he was going to suffer; they never really seemed to understand it. And then it happens.

Betrayal.

Public torture.

A political execution.

The death of a friend, a teacher… the death of a mission.

Mission? Impossible.

Where could God possibly be working in all this pain, and fear, and despair?

The disciples gather together and hide, afraid, and I imagine try to fathom the events that have just transpired. But before they can even begin to work through their grief Jesus is with them! Jesus is standing among them! He blessed them, and anoints them with the Holy Spirit, and sends them out… to what?

Maybe this is all too much for Peter; he hasn’t had time to think, or feel, or figure out what all this means. Wouldn’t it much easier to just go back to the boat? How often do we think it would be better to just get back in our boats? To go back to the way things were before?

The thing is, even when the disciples couldn’t understand, or when we feel like we’ve been given a burden to heavy to carry, or when it feels like the Jesus we know is ripped away from us and replaced with a Jesus we’re not sure we understand or even like, Christ comes to us.

Christ comes to the disciples, but only half way. He doesn’t appear in the boat with them, and at first, they don’t even recognize him. Sometimes Christ comes to us on the sidelines while we’re running, not putting himself in our path but rather asking, “How’s that working out for you?” And when we realize that it’s Christ, when they realize that it’s Christ, Peter throws his clothes on and jumps the ship he was so eager to re-board, swimming to shore to meet Christ where he and the others are welcomed with hospitality and a warm meal. This is a special breakfast, a reunion breakfast, a sacramental breakfast. And we may think that making it to the table is enough; that meeting Christ in the breaking of bread is the goal. But it is after we have eaten that the real challenge comes.

“Do you love me?” The question is asked, three times; I imagine Peter coloring with shame as we remember his three denials of Christ. “Yes, Lord, I love you. You know that I love you.” Yes, Jesus, we love you with all our hearts, and all our minds, and all our souls, and with all our strength we cry, trying to erase those times that we too have denied Christ. Then feed my sheep. Tend my flock. 

And the mission continues.

Feed. 

My. 

Sheep. 

You have been fed, so that you might feed others.

It is on the beach that Jesus once again calls his disciples to ministry. On the beach they learn that their work, Christ’s work, is not finished. All the work that had been done, all the trouble they had gotten into, all of the revolutions that had been started- it had all seemed to disappear when Jesus said those final words, “It is finished.” But it is in the resurrection that we learn, no, it is not. And it never will be. As followers of Christ we will always be called to heal the sick and feed the hungry. We will always be called to give voice to the voiceless and show those in power that there can be a different way to live. We will always be called to tend the least, the last and the lost. Even when all hope seems to be lost, we can find the strength to go on, because even death cannot destroy God’s great love for us and the mission we are called to by Christ. Christ is alive, and continues to live, in us.

 AMEN.

Donkey Tale: Palm Sunday Reflection

I am nothing special. Up until yesterday, I had served no great purpose. I was simply a beast of burden, put to work day in and day out hauling my master’s wares back and forth from home to the city. It’s hard work, but that’s what we donkeys do- we carry things.

I was not working yesterday; I was tied to my master’s home, with my baby by my side, minding my own business. It was good to have a day of rest! Suddenly, out of nowhere, these two men appeared; they walked right up to me and my baby as if we belonged to them. My baby was frightened- he doesn’t really like strangers yet- he can be quite shy. I was perturbed- who did these men think they were? They started to untie me and my master came running out of the house; he seemed upset. “Stop!” he called out, waving his arms wildly. “What do you think you are doing? That’s my donkey!” The men seemed very calm. They said, “The Lord needs it.” My master seemed to relax; he shrugged his shoulders and went back into the house. I was upset! Who is this Lord? What could he possibly want with me? This was my day off, after all- I didn’t want to go work for a stranger! But I wanted didn’t matter- I am, after all, just a donkey.

The men untied me and led me away; thankfully they brought my baby too, who stuck by my side as if we were glued together. They led us out to a stand of trees, where there were more men, all of them strangers to me. One of the men was kind; he stroked my muzzle and ran his hands over my baby soothingly. He butted the man playfully and the man laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, but when I looked at his eyes they were sad. Some of his companions put their cloaks on my back; I had carried many loads of cloth in my day, but never actually worn any! My baby laughed at me and I shushed him; he needed to be on his best behavior, or the men might not let him stay with me while I worked. The gentle man climbed on to my back and I shifted my hooves under his weight. He was heavy, but it was nothing I hadn’t carried before. One of his companions took the rope from my halter in his hand and clucked at me to move; we began our journey.

I plodded along steadily, carefully watching where I put each hoof, feeling the weight of his body shift and sway along with my steps. I was paying so much attention to where I was walking that I barely noticed the group of people beginning to form around us. They seemed to come out of nowhere, and as we walked along they started shouting, “Hosanna!” As they shouted more people came, and as we drew closer and closer to the city the people began to cut palm branches from the trees, waving them excitedly and cheering.  Some of the crowd ran ahead of us, and they took their cloaks and spread them on the ground. I tried to stop; I didn’t want to get their clothes dirty by stepping on them!- but the man urged me forward, and I had no choice but to walk on the cloth and palms that were being laid at my feet. My baby began to enjoy this attention; he pranced along as if he were a stallion, not a donkey, and I worried he would break away from me and get lost in the crowd. They were beginning to press against us, and I noticed that the man’s companions were forming a circle around us, keeping the crowd from swarming over us. “Hosanna in the highest!” they cried; the noise was deafening. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” Ah, I thought, so that’s who this is! I didn’t know David had a son…

We reached the city and now it was almost more than I could bear. People kept shouting, calling out, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” and “Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna!” Palms were waving, cloaks were being strewn on the ground, people were reaching out trying to touch him, trying to touch me- I kept my head down, uncomfortable with all this attention.

I am, after all, a humble donkey.

As we passed into the city and the crowd grew larger, more and more people came, but instead of praising the man, they looked worried. “Who is this?” The question rippled through the crowd, growing stronger and stronger as leaned out their windows or stood in their doorways to watch our procession into Jerusalem. “Who is this?”

And I began to wonder; who is this man that draws these people, who is treated like a king, who is exalted by the people but is riding on me, a donkey? Who is this man that makes the religious leaders look nervous, and makes the people look hopeful? Who is this man, and where am I taking him? What is his purpose at this time, in this place?

Finally my questions are answered; this is Jesus. Ah, yes- I have heard of this man. And now I wonder how I could not have recognized him. I have heard of this man Jesus; the people in the market would talk to my master about the wonderful things he had done, of what he teaching. I even heard he had made blind men see, and made lepers clean! I also heard that the religious leaders did not like him, even that they were hoping to trap him in his teaching in order to punish him.

And now I am worried.

I am worried because, once we were in the city, we went to the temple. The man climbed off my back and patted my head. His hand was warm on my neck; he thanked me for the ride. My baby pushed against him, seeking praise from this man who brought hope to the city. We watched as he entered the temple; I heard shouting, and the sound of tables being overturned. Birds flew out, free from their cages, and I thought, for a moment, if he had freed them, why couldn’t he free me too? But the one who was leading me took us away, out of the city, the cloaks and palms now trampled into the dirt, unsalvageable. I was so tired. We journeyed home, my baby and I, back to our master. The man left the cloak on my back, a souvenir from our journey.

I do not know what will happen to the kind man, but I little time to think about it. Perhaps I will find out the next time we go into the city. If we see him, will he remember me? Will the people recognize me? Probably not. I am, after all, only a donkey.