First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: John 21:1-17
November 4, 2001
Since we have been talking together about fish and fishing, you have told me every fish story in the book. Not all of them preachable. Most all of them apocryphal. But there is this one, shared with me wistfully….but certainly, sincerely.
The fellow who shared it was bemoaning his luck, given that he had never caught anything. Never once. But his brother lived a charmed life. His brother caught fish every time, everywhere. Making it worse was the fact that they liked to fish together. It started as kids. The younger brother couldn’t catch a cold. The older brother always caught his limit. Adolescent years…. college years….post-college years….same story. When they got married, the two families vacationed together at adjacent lakeside cottages. Still, while the older brother caught the fish, the other brother caught nothing.
One day the younger brother said: “Enough of this.” He decided to do something about it. Rising at 4:00 a.m., he snuck out of bed without waking anybody. He put on his brother’s clothes…. donned his brother’s jacket….topped it off with his brother’s hat….grabbed his brother’s pole and tackle….and arrived at the lake as the sun’s rays were sneaking over the tree line. Walking out on the dock, he cast into the water. Nothing. So he cast once more. Still nothing. Thinking that the third cast would be the charm, he was saddened to feel no tug on the line this time, either. But a good-sized fish did poke his head out of the water….look around….survey the scene….and ask: “So where’s your brother?”
Actually, hold onto that last line. It’ll preach. Maybe even by the end of the sermon.
Two weeks ago, we talked about catching fish. Last week, we talked about being fish. This morning, I want to talk about netting fish. I know next to nothing about fish nets, save for the fact that my daughter once bought stockings of the same name to wear to a masquerade ball. I do know that in the section of the state where I hang my hat about 20 nights a year, there is a great dispute involving Native Americans and fish nets….where they can set them….how often they can drop them….what they can trap with them….even how wide the holes can be in them. You can start a pretty good fight in an Elk Rapids coffee shop if you make the mistake of using the words “net” and “Indian” in the same sentence.
But we’re not in northern Michigan. We’re on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Where, after a night of no fish, it has suddenly become the morning of great fish. From this story, it would appear that Jesus has instructed the nets to be lowered one more time, leading to a payload of such magnitude that hauling it in was all but impossible.
Yet just five verses later, we read that Peter (single-handedly?) hauled the entire catch ashore. And, when carefully analyzed, the fish were large, both in size and number. Even more surprising was the observation that the net remained intact, meaning free of tears.
Now you can do what you want with the fact that it was Peter who did the nearly impossible…. hauling fish that were previously unhaulable. But were you to speculate that this is something of a “credentialing detail”….suggesting that who else but the one who turned out to be head of the church would haul in all of the catch….well, you’d have several scholars in your corner. That’s because the story ends with a little fireside chat between Jesus and Peter….a chat that resolves any unresolved unpleasantness over Peter’s pre-crucifixion denial of his Lord….and ends with Peter being instructed (charged, commissioned, ordained?) to feed the Lord’s sheep. For one who has already done a Herculean job of hauling fish, feeding sheep would be small potatoes (assuming sheep eat potatoes). So maybe….just maybe….the story is a “credentialing story” for Peter. One can hear the conversation years later.
Who put you in charge?
Jesus put me in charge.
When did Jesus do that?
That morning at the shore.
How so?
You have time for a story?
But let’s leave Peter now, the better to get back to the nets. We are told they are full of “large fish.” Exactly how large, nobody is saying. But if there were 153 of them….and if each weighed a mere four pounds (which doesn’t sound large to me, given that my only catch was a 13-pounder)….that would still be 612 pounds of fish. Which would make Peter some kind of sumo wrestler, and would suggest nets made of spun steel.
Could the number 153 be literal? I mean, did anybody stand there and count? Like a DNR guy or a Fish and Game warden? Was there a limit? And did this catch exceed it? Or could there possibly….just possibly….be more to it?
I never know what to do with things like this….I mean “specificities” like this. Here I am, reading along in scripture. The narratives are painted in broad brush strokes. And up pops a rock-hard detail, like “153 fish.” Most people read right on past it. But scholars (remember, I went to a seminary where over half the graduates went on to get Ph.D.s) go bananas over it. I mean, you could turn the number 153 into a doctoral thesis. And some have.
In the fourth century AD, no less a titan of the church than St. Augustine proclaimed 153 to be “a great mystery.” But that didn’t keep him from suggesting a solution. Said Augustine (in paraphrase): “Let 10 represent the Law (given that there are ten commandments). Let 7 represent grace (given that the gifts of the Spirit are sevenfold). Add 10 and 7 together to get 17. Then add all of the numbers in 17 (1 plus 2 plus 3 plus 4 plus 5, etc.). What do you wind up with? You wind up with 153. Which suggests that, in response to the initiative of God, some will come by the Law while others will come by grace.”
Then there was Cyril of Alexandria who figured it this way. Forget about the numbers 10 and 7. Instead, start with the number 100. Let it represent “the fullness of the Gentiles.” After all, 100 represents a shepherd’s full flock (90 and 9 safely tucked away, 1 wandering loose). And 100 also represents the full fertility of a seed (producing one hundredfold). Then, let 50 represent the remnant of Israel who will also be gathered in (meaning Jews). And let 3 stand for the Trinity, to whose glory all things are done. Add them together and what do you get? You get 153, that’s what you get.
If all of this sounds ridiculous, let me tell you that I can produce at least half a dozen other such calculations that will add up to 153. Some are arithmetic. Others are geometric (involving equilateral triangles). And at least one involves the numerical value of the Hebrew consonants in the names of two Israeli fishing towns, Engedi and Eneglaim.
A better guess was offered by Jerome who noted that, at that time, Greek zoologists had recorded and cataloged 153 different kinds (species) of fish. Which suggests, according to Jerome, that there will be room in the net (and in the church?) for people of every shape, kind, race and nation. Which would seem to be supported by Matthew 8:47, where a net thrown into the sea gathers “fish of every kind.”
At the end of the day, most interpreters of the number 153 want to take off their boots and lodge with Jerome. In other words, there is scholarly comfort with the notion that Christ’s arms will reach more….and Christ’s nets will hold more….than commonly thought or popularly preached.
I have an Episcopal colleague in New York who absolutely refuses to talk to religious zealots who come to the door. But his wife never fails to invite them in, before trying to trip them. Not long back, he heard her talking to a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses who were doing their best to ensnare her in their logic. Suddenly he overheard his wife ask: “Don’t you fellows preach that only 144,000 will inherit the kingdom?” “Well, yes,” they said, “we do.” Which led her to counter: “But doesn’t your movement already have more than 144,000 members?” Shortly after which they excused themselves and headed for the next house.
Oh, how we in the Christian church love to slice and dice the acreage of the Kingdom. Yes….no. In….out. Sheep….goats. Saved….lost. Lifted up….left behind. And none of us knows how it’s going to come out. But every time I confront the “one way, only way, our way” passages of scripture, I read them in the light of these more inclusive and universal images of the Kingdom and say to myself: “Thank God, Ritter, this is not left for you to decide.” Or as Robert Schuller said (to a national gathering of evangelists, no less): “Don’t be surprised to look up some day and see some people who, by dint of their nationality or their ecclesiology, you never expected to see in heaven. Which won’t be because they (or you) were all that good, but because God is….all that good, I mean.”
Which brings us full circle to the net, don’t you see. About which only one thing was said. And about which only one thing needed to be said. It held. It did not rip.
We spend so much time worrying about how many different kinds of people the church can hold without splitting. We’ve talked of this before, you and I. No doubt, we will speak of it again. But, for the moment, our text suggests what my heart so desperately wants to believe, that there is more resiliency in the Church of Jesus Christ than meets the eye, and that those who speak gleefully of division and schism (even in the name of “purifying the church”) bring no smile to their Lord and do no favor for their Lord. In fact, the word for “torn” in verse 11 is “schizein” (or “schisma,” or “schism,” or “division”), which the text clearly says will not result, no matter how much weight (the large fish) or how much diversity (the many fish) one piles into it. I read it and hope. For I have come too far down the road of ministry to see it fork now.
But, to be more specific (and more local): “How fares it with this net?” The other day I talked with a young minister whose career I am following. He is doing well in his placement….seeing signs of life in his placement….even seeing signs of growth in his placement. But he suffered a recent setback when his congregation refused to consider his suggestion that they add a second service. Maybe he came on too strong….too fast….too singularly. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with changing a culture or moving an institution. He’ll learn from it. He’ll probably get it right the next time. He’s too good not to. And they’re too ripe not to.
But what interested me was the issue behind the rejection of his two-service idea. It wasn’t cost….they had the money. It wasn’t need….they saw the need. It wasn’t any of the usual things like young vs. old, contemporary vs. traditional, or praise band vs. organ. At least, it didn’t seem to be. Instead, it was about congregational comfort. “Worshiping together in one hour, we know each other,” they said. “Worshiping separately, we won’t.” Which might be true. Although my friend thinks the issue has more to do with power than comfort. He hears people saying: “If people go to a different service, I won’t know who they are.” But what he thinks they are saying is: “If people go to a different service, they won’t know who I am.” In the world, most issues revolve around money. But in the church, most issues revolve around power.
Here at First Church, we have been focused for the last four years on a growth agenda. More folks. More programs. More study. More ministry. Wider boundaries. Deeper sacrifices. Bigger buildings. Are we comfortable with all that? Actually, more than I thought. Have we been faithful through all that? I certainly pray so. I think we are proving, morning by morning, the resiliency of the net. I do believe it’s held. I continue to believe it will.
At one time or another, I suspect that every child has questioned the wisdom and sanity of the parents in choosing to have another child. “More around me….less for me,” goes the logic. Which may be true. After all, pies can only be sliced so thin. And paychecks can only be stretched so far. But, more often than not, it seems to work. Doesn’t it?
On stage for one of those “Mother of the Year” awards, an African American mother of several was asked how she could love all of them equally. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t love all of them equally.
I love the one who’s down until he’s up.
I love the one who’s weak until she’s strong.
I love the one who’s lost until he’s found.”
My friends, our God is equal to the need. And our net is equal to the growth. Assuming, that is, that we will be equal to the challenge.
So in the words of that unknown fish from 20 minutes ago: “Where’s your brother (and your sister)?” Not without them. No, not without them.
Note: For those who question the broader context of Robert Schuller’s remarks about the inclusivity of heaven, let me share the following paragraphs from a recent book by Rodney Wilmoth entitled How United Methodists Share Their Faith. It is important to note, however, that Dr. Schuller’s remarks were widely reported at the time, with each clarification strengthening his statement.
Several months ago I attended a gathering of clergy in Orlando, Florida. The group was made up of clergy from all over the nation and from all over the theological spectrum. There were mainline denominations represented, plus many non-mainline. Included in the non-mainline were conservative, fundamental, pentecostal, and charismatic churches with memberships exceeding thirty thousand members!
This particular group came about several years ago largely due to the encouragement of Dr. Robert Schuller of the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California. Dr. Schuller is held in high regard with this clergy group. After he spoke to the group, Dr. Schuller said that he would be happy to answer any questions anyone might have.
At that point, one of the clergy said, “Dr. Schuller, I read recently that you gave an address to a national gathering of Muslims. Why did you speak to them and what did you say?” There was something about the question that implied that a Christian would have no reason to speak to such a group.
Robert Schuller, in his usual open and direct manner, said, “I was honored to speak at their national gathering. I talked about what Muslims and Christians have in common. That in many ways, we both come from the same roots and that we could accomplish much by working together, focusing not on our difference but on our similarities.” And then sensing the uneasiness with the question, Dr. Schuller said, “Let me tell you about a book I’m reading now. The author said, ‘Don’t be surprised if when you die and go to heaven, you will meet people there who have never heard of Jesus Christ.’”
A hush fell over the nearly eighty clergy persons. The hush was broken by a pastor of one of the largest churches in America saying, “But Dr. Schuller, the Bible says in the Gospel of John that ‘no one will come to the Father except through me.’” Dr. Schuller looked at him for a moment and said, “Yes, my friend, I know that’s what John said, but I’m not so sure John knew everything.”
That was an important comment to make. I doubt if everyone present especially liked what Dr. Schuller said, but it was the right thing to say given where we are in our world today. Christians who feel that they have exclusive membership in heaven may be in for a real surprise. My congregation has often heard me say, “If you have Jewish neighbors, and you’re not getting along, you had better work on improving the relationship because, in all reality, they will be with you in heaven!”
