Gone Fishing
a sermon based on John 21:1-19
by Rev. Tom Hall

The small town barbers of 1950’s and 60’s sitcoms had their priorities straight. Should an alluring break in the weather come and should the word on the street have the bass biting in the local pond-they’d hang a hastily scrawled sign over their window:

Gone Fishin'

Those two simple words could grind small town America to a standstill; the sign really said, "Nothing more important than bass and crappies-when they’re biting, that is. Quit the rat race and relax; stick a night crawler on a hook and sit a spell." Of course, "Gone fishin,’" also meant that your hair would get another day’s reprieve-unless, of course, you drove all the way over to Mt. Pilot. So if you wanted your ears lowered you’d have come back the next day. Nothing like a spell of good weather and hungry fish to take one’s mind off of business-as-usual.

"Gone fishin’." That’s what the sign must have said outside Peter’s shop. Maybe it was the spring-like breeze, or the whiff of drying fish on the racks near the local water hole that triggered his decision to go fishing. Maybe he’d planned this trip, had marked it on the calendar and had counted the days down the moment when he could head out the door with his tackle box.

For a lot of us, fishing is the thing we do when we’re tired of doing what we’re supposed to be doing. I wonder if for Peter, this particular fishing trip was one of those times. He just wanted to escape the resurrection script and the whole Christian scene-if not for a moment, maybe he wanted to put it on hold indefinitely. Boats and water aren’t always friendly things to some of us, but for Peter, getting back to the water would have given him a rush. He was getting back to what he knew and loved. The water and fishing carried him back to earlier times-times before things started getting complex and crazy.

Many fishermen since Peter have discovered that fishing is a great time to think. You think about what’s been happening in your life. Thoughts normally course through the mind in a stream of consciousness-thoughts surging and darting like children on the playground. But when you fish, you have time to focus. You can catch those scrambling thoughts and reflect on them. Maybe that’s what Peter was doing. He slowly whisked his nets through the water netting his thoughts about where his life was heading.

The muscles in his forearms must have bulged as he hugged hundreds of feet of net and headed off for nearby Lake Galilee. "Who’s going with me?" he yells, adjusting the sign on his shop. Six others drop what they’re doing and grab their fishing gear and hang their "gone fishin’" signs out. He always had been a leader among his friends.

Some commentators, however, read more into this fishing trip than a simple, guys day out thing. They see Peter’s actions as nothing short of defection! Peter has left off being an apostle, hung up his towel and basin and headed back to his old neighborhood and to his old reliable line of work. Even worse-not only has Peter left his discipleship back on shore, but he’s carried six others out to sea with him. Peter-despite some inkling that the Jesus of his past has recently become risen Lord of his present-just hangs up the sign and heads out. Just walks away from any connection or responsibility that he might have had to Jesus. This interpretation is not explicit in the text, but you have to wonder if these commentators are right-there seems to be a sense of finality in Peter’s words, "I’m going fishing." As in "permanently."

Many pastors since Peter’s day have made the same kind of admission. After a career of ministry that is marked by struggle, fund-raising, counseling, church dissension and conflict management, politics, along with the joys, is it any wonder that they don’t hang the sign over their life and follow Peter? "Is this all?" they ask.

I became aware of this struggle two summers ago. I was awaiting my turn to walk out during a wedding when the officiating minister turned to me and quipped, "Yep, this is my three hundred and fifty fourth wedding-I want to make it to four hundred before I retire." As the ceremony went on, it became clear by this minister’s routine that something was missing. Business as usual. I wondered when the exact moment had come in his life when he had hung the sign outside his career-"gone fishin’.

Peter might have the been the leader-the future leader of the Church-but there were six others (that’s the rest of us) who also followed him. Anyone can hang the sign out. "Gone fishin’." I recently came across an astounding statement by Chris Evert, the all-time great women’s tennis champion. At the time she was at the top of her game. She said, We get into a rut. We play tennis, we go to a movie, we watch TV, but I keep saying, ‘John, there has to be more.’"

Any of us can go through the motions, say the right words, and yet for all intents, have hung the sign out, "gone fishin’."

Author Judith Wright says that we tune out or numb ourselves to God’s calling on our life through what she has termed, soft addictions-hanging out too long or too frequently in the chat rooms or checking and rechecking emails, procrastinating, buying the newest technical wizardry, overeating, undereating, over exercising, viewing internet pornography, forever being too busy, blaming, playing the victim, fantasizing, etc. (And to this list we could add our own soft addictions.)

The danger of these soft addictions, she says, is that they eat away at our life of meaning. They keep us going through the paces, enjoying life in a minor key, zoning out or avoiding the responsibilities that lead to a more meaningful, fulfilling life.

The good news in this story is what God does about the "gone fishin’" sign in Peter’s life. Jesus seeks out this possible defector, this potential AWOL disciple and in the in a most remarkable way, draws him back to a meaningful mission and purpose as a disciple and leader.

First of all, given the levels of fishing prowess represented among the seven fishing pros in the boat and given the combined knowledge of fishing lore amongst them, and given the amount of time they were fishing-somewhere between eight to ten hours-you’d think they would’ve at least caught a few crappies, maybe a perch or crab. But after a night of fishing with seven smart guys trying their hands at netting fish they score a big zero. Zilch. Goose eggs. By dawn’s early light they would have settled for an old boot-anything to show for their work.

What did Jesus have to do with that we might ask. I would be inclined to say that Jesus had nothing to do with Peter and friends’ very bad, horrible, not very good fishing trip. Except . . . Well, except that the moment he says, "Hey, boys, why don’t you try over here" and when they do all seven disciples are flying every which way trying to land one hundred and fifty-three fish. Come to mama! Like a magnet, fish who moments before were manuevering around the nets suddenly start flying into the net like torpedoes-the big ones, the ones that always got away, the shrimps, the catfish the bass. In five minutes the disciples see more action than the previous ten hours. Holy mackeral!

Yeah, but that was just coincidence. A fluke. A school of fish that caught them by surprise. But this change in the action does get their attention. As at other appearances after the passion, Jesus’ identity was withheld. "Hmmmm, I wonder who the stranger is?" they had to have thought. No doubt some of them were putting the puzzle together. "Didn’t we have another fishing snafu just like this-and the same thing happened? Oh, wait a minute, that was Jesus that other time." Though they can’t say conclusively, they now have their suspicions.

So the seven wayfarers drag the bulging net to shore and once on land they run into another clue-the same guy with the hot fishing tip now wants to serve them breakfast! "Hmmmm, I wonder who that stranger is?" Whoever it is, he has the fire stoked and some fish frying in the pan. "Hey, fellas, bring some of your catch, let’s get us some breakfast!"

Breakfast ended, things get even more interesting-and more personal for Peter. Jesus walks past the disciples scattered around the early morning fire and sits right beside Peter. "Peter, do you love me more than these?"

Commentators have long puzzled over the meaning of Jesus’ question: "do you love me more than these?" What are the "these" to which Jesus referred? Some surmise that Jesus looked around at the other disciples scattered around the camp eating their fish. Acknowledging them to Peter, he says, "Peter, do you love me more than these . . . your friends?" Or maybe Jesus was looking to the villages sillouetted in the distance when he posed the question. "Peter, do you love me more than you love these-your family, your neighborhood, your life? "

But given the beginning of the story I wonder if Jesus is really pointing at the sign hanging over Peter’s life: "gone fishin’." Jesus picks at the flakey white meat from the bones of a sunfish. Then he holds up his fish skeleton and gives Peter one of those looks in which the look meets the eyes, but goes straight into the soul. "Do you love me, Peter," Jesus asks, shaking that fish in the direction of the pile of fish before them. "Do you love me more than you love these . . fish?" Then feed my sheep. Nourish my followers.

That’s the story that John chooses to close his gospel with. And the lessons that that emerge from it are as varied and unique as each reader. Yet the story is remarkable in portraying a prodigal son God who goes to extraordinary lengths to adjust our misplaced love. Like us Peter could love God, the 76ers, and fish. Jesus points out that anything less than love for God is to walk away from the One who creates the fish, the seas, and all that is in them.

The other part of the story that haunts me is that you just never really know-conclusively and concretely the identity of the Stranger who stands on the beach of our lives offering hot tips for living. We may have our suspicions, but we’ll never have all the facts in to make a 100% identification. That’s the faith part of the story. So we’ll need to listen to-and serve-a lot of strangers who just may turn out to be the Lord. Sometimes the Stranger will look more like a gardener, or a neighborhood friend who joins you as you jog, or somebody else than Jesus. So you’ll need to serve everyone you can.

Peter returns to the shop and removes the "gone fishin’" sign. Years pass. He will go on to live a truly extraordinary life that will open the door for nearly the entire world to encounter God’s love. He will heal people’s pain, preach the good news, and work on his prejudices. And he will be executed for his faith in Jesus the Stranger who stood on the beach that day. Yet in all of this, Peter will finish his mission having lived a meaningful and extraordinary life.

Hear the Good News: God who began a good work in you will will be faithful to fulfill your calling and in the process will to you the catch of your life in the joy that comes from staying the course and embracing the mission to which we you have been called. Amen.