Sermon: The Story Continues

 John 21:1-19
The Story Continues
James Sledge                                                                                                 May 1, 2022

Peter Koenig, Breakfast on the Beach, 20^th Century,
Parish of St. Edward, Kettering, UK

from Art in the Christian Tradition,
a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library

 When a movie ends, the scene fades to black, “The End” appears, and the credits begin to roll. But rare is the movie where we don’t know it’s the end without these cues. 

Music works in similar fashion. More often than not, we can detect that the piece has ended even when we’ve never heard it before. Any musical tension and dissonance resolve into something that feels complete, finished, and we know we are at the end.

In movies, in plays, in novels, in music, this pattern is familiar to us. Things need to be brought to a conclusion. The war must be won. The broken relationship must be repaired.  The killer must be caught. The jury must come in. The lovers must find one another. The last note must be played. Otherwise we are left with a sense of loose ends. 

The gospel of John has dealt with its loose ends. Jesus has been raised from the dead.  Mary Magdalene has seen him. Then he has appeared to the disciples, commissioned them and given them the Spirit. Finally he has appeared again so that Thomas, who was somehow absent when Jesus appeared that first Easter evening, might see and believe.

And then the gospel ties up the last loose ends and plays the final note. Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book.  But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name. Fade to black.

But just as we prepare to get up from our seats, suddenly the story resumes. After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias. It’s all rather jarring. Just when we thought we understood exactly how things came out, the story starts up again. It breaks into the feeling of completeness. All that dissonance that had been resolved is stirred up again.

The scene itself is surprising. We’re back at the Sea of Galilee with seven of the disciples. No explanation is given for why they are there. They are just there. It is late in the day, and Peter announces, “I’m going fishing.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” the others chime in together. “We’ll all go with you.”

What’s going on? Has Peter returned to his pre-disciple profession? I don’t know, but he clearly has a boat at his disposal. And they spend the night fishing without catching anything.

When the gospel of John seemed to end a few verses earlier, Jesus had already empowered the disciples with the Holy Spirit and sent them as the Father has sent him. But now here they are fishing in the dark.

Now strictly speaking there is nothing all that unusual about fishing at night. But in John’s gospel this seems terribly out of place. Themes of light and darkness are so prominent. Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, but the world prefers darkness. And now, after the resurrection, after the gift of the Holy Spirit, we find the disciples fishing, in the dark.

It’s a rather depressing scene, from an actual fishing standpoint as well as the metaphorical one. But then the light dawns. The disciples don’t realize it at first, but Jesus is there on the shore. Suddenly there are fish galore and breakfast is ready and waiting.

If the disciples had somehow misunderstood, thought that the end of the story meant things went back to the way they were before, Jesus shatters that notion. The disciples’ last meal with Jesus will not be a prelude to his death, but a prelude to their ministry.

There is a problem with endings. When the movie ends, when all the loose ends are tied up, when any dissonance in the notes resolves and the song concludes, the energy is also gone. Nothing drives events forward any longer. Everything is settled.

Christian faith is bound to an ancient story, and without remembering and embracing that story we cannot be the people of God. But that story is not ended. It has not faded to black. The great preacher Tom Long even suggests that this strange story in John’s gospel, a story that takes place after the story has ended, serves to draw the curtain up again, to unsettle things and put the energy back into an unfinished story.

Of course Peter is a special case, and this story after the end of John’s gospel recalls how Peter’s story seemed to have ended. On the night of Jesus’ arrest, a confident, brash Peter had boldly predicted that he would lay down his own life in order to go with Jesus. Instead Peter had denied Jesus three times as he stood warming himself by a charcoal fire that night.

But that is not the end of Peter’s story. Standing by a different charcoal fire, Peter’s threefold denial is undone. Jesus’ love embraces Peter and restores him. But his restoration does not bring Peter’s story to a conclusion. Rather it is a new beginning. “Feed my sheep.  Tend my lambs.  Follow me.”

This second ending of John’s gospel leaves many questions unanswered and much left to do. What happens to Peter? Presumably he did what Jesus commanded him. He cared for Jesus’ flock, even though it likely cost him his own life at some point. But clearly the story continues, and much of it remains to be written.

Nearly 2000 years later, I wonder if we might not need another, another ending to the story, something like the second ending of John that unsettled things and injected energy and momentum towards a future still to come. I can’t help but think that religion has gotten far too settled, far too fixed. We humans tend to like things settled, but without some tension and the energy it provides, things stagnate. Without some sense that the plot is still unfolding, that we are moving toward something, things become listless and merely habit.

You don’t need to be a social scientist or researcher to know that young people have left the church in droves in the last few decades. Some of them are your and my children. But researchers can tell us some interesting information about these folks. For the most part, they don’t have any real conflict with the beliefs or doctrines of their parents’ faith, and they didn’t leave to find “better churches.” They believe in God and in being good. They just don’t see any point to the church part. They can believe in God and be good without church. 

And I think they got the notion that what goes on at church isn’t very important from us. We got so settled, so accommodated to the world around us. We acted like the story was over and there wasn’t anything significant left to do. We even acted like there wasn’t anything significant going on in our worship.

A church member once told me this story. It seems that someone was attending Easter worship with family or friends. And as the service ran a bit past an hour – not surprising with the extra music and the large number receiving communion – this person said, loudly enough for those nearby to hear, “You said it only lasted an hour!” 

Now I suppose this person can be excused. For all I know, he wasn’t even Christian. But we often act just like him. We check our watches. We grumble if we don’t like a hymn. But if we really expected to meet Jesus, would we care what music we sang or how long we stayed?

Sometimes we act like we’re just telling an old story and singing some songs. Perhaps it’s warm and comforting in a way. Perhaps we enjoy it. But it isn’t meant to stir anything up or start anything. The story has been written, and the screen has faded to black.

Like the disciples in our gospel, we have settled back into our everyday routines. Yes, we’ve heard that Jesus was raised. Maybe we even believe it. But that’s an old story, and it doesn’t have much to do with how we live our lives. At least that’s what we’ve communicated to those who grew up in the church. And they’ve taken us at our word, and so many of them have left. And who can blame them.

But the good news is that Jesus does not condemn disciples who settle back into old routines, who live like the resurrection doesn’t much matter, who fish aimlessly in the dark. Jesus does not even condemn Peter for denying him. He only wants to get the story going again. He feeds his disciples, and he calls them, calls us, once more. “Feed my sheep.  Tend my lambs.  Follow me.” And the story continues.