Come and Have Breakfast!

It’s been a tough week. First the synagogue shooting in Poway, CA. Then Yom HaShoah – a Day of Remembrance of the Holocaust. Then May 3, forever the anniversary of both Brenda Brewington and Mary-Marguerite Kohn being shot dead in our parish office in Ellicott City. Kind of makes the Constitutional Crisis in DC look absolutely puny in comparison.

It’s also the 36^th anniversary of my final round of Canonical Exams in the Diocese of Rhode Island. On top of the General Ordination Exams, Psychological and Vocational Exams, three years of exams and finals, the Diocese of Rhode Island required an additional nine (9) Canonical Exams in areas like Theology, New Testament Greek, Old and New Testament, and so forth. After each semester of Seminary candidates for ordination would troop up to the Rhode Island Camp and Conference Center and take a few exams.

The final round for me was in April, 1983. One of the exams left was New Testament. You take a written exam and then an hour or so in a group with the examining chaplains fielding questions. I surmised, correctly as it turns out, that in New Testament orals we would be asked for our favorite New Testament Bible verse. I came prepared. When my turn came, I replied, “Come and have breakfast!” There was a pronounced silence, accompanied by some confused expressions, as if they were expecting something more like, “Come unto me, all you who are tired and heavy laden, and I will refresh you,” or, “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, so that those who believe in him will have eternal life.” Clearly no one was expecting, “Come and have breakfast!”

One of the examining chaplains challenged me, saying, “And just where is that in the New Testament.” I am sure I smiled as I paused before saying, “In the 21^st chapter of John, Jesus’s third resurrection appearance to his disciples after a long night of fishing.” I paused. There was more silence and quizzical looks. “And,” I continued, “it is the Gospel appointed for this coming Sunday, Year C, the Third Sunday of Easter Season.” Snap!

It had been a tough week or two after Jesus was crucified. The disciples were hiding. They might be next in line for Roman so-called “justice.” Finally, Peter can stand hiding no more and announces he is going fishing. Sounds good to six more disciples, and off they go. After all, a number of them were professional fishermen on the Sea of Galilee, sometimes called the Sea of Tiberias. They fish all night and catch no fish. At dawn the next morning a figure appears on the shore –only a hundred yards away we are told. The man on shore calls out, “You have no fish, have you?” Seems kind of cruel. “No,” they answer. “Cast the net on the other side,” says the stranger. That’s it. Sometimes you just need to change what you’re doing. Do we get that?

At this point we imagine some grumbling. We know how to fish. Our families have fished these waters for generations! Grudgingly they pull in the net and toss it over the other side. Suddenly, the net is filled to the breaking point. One hundred and fifty-three fish! Someone counted! A disciple Jesus loved says to Peter, “It’s the Lord!” Peter, who up till now has been naked while fishing, throws on some clothes, jumps in the water and swims ashore to see who it is. That seems an odd way to go about it.

When he gets there, and the rest show up with the boat and the fish, there is the stranger, sitting at a charcoal fire on the beach, some fish and bread on the fire. He calls out, “Bring some of your fish over here. Come and have breakfast!” No one dares to ask him who he is. They just know it’s the Lord. Kyrios in the Greek. Which in the Greek Septuagint version of the Hebrew scriptures is the word used to translate YHWH, the proper name of God that is not to be spoken. We’re not sure what YHWH means, but it is the God who is always there for the people Israel. One scholar suggests it means, “Oh, it’s Him again!” Seem right for this moment on the beach.

Now as much as I was intentionally meaning to shock and surprise the examining chaplains back in Rhode Island, I have always been struck by the fact that John remembers Jesus, the Word, the Logos, saying this on the beach. He is actually preparing what is really truly their last meal with him. Imagine working hard all night at whatever it is you do best. All night long, and yet nothing is accomplished. How does that feel? Then some stranger suggests you need to change what you are doing. How does that make you feel? But darned if the stranger isn’t right. The net is filled. It’s not a miracle. They simply do what he tells them to do. Sometimes we just need to change our whole approach. Start over. What’s he calling us to do?

He invites them over for breakfast. Nothing fancy. Nothing profound. Although it is profound that YHWH, Kyrios, the Lord wants to prepare a meal for us and invites us to sit down and join him. It’s all so every day. Common place. Anyone of us could and probably have at one time or another issued a similar invitation. He really just wants companionship – a word that literally means “with bread.” He wants us to join him in his mission of Divine Love for all people.

He fed 5,000 with a few loaves of bread. He said the bread is his body the night before he died. Now for his last meal with them, the really truly last meal with them, and it’s bread – and fish. When I told him about my exam answer, a friend, mentor and supporter of my life in seminary, The Reverend James Guinan, reflected on all this. “We often look in the wrong places for the Risen Lord. I believe He is present, most of all in the common place, the unexpected moments, the not-so-profound expressions, and which when seen are always a surprise!”

I can relate to a Jesus who takes the time to light a charcoal fire, cook up a few fish and some bread on the beach, and invite us all to “Come and have breakfast.” He’s not that complicated. After all, after breakfast he takes Peter aside to talk about “love” and “sheep.” Peter is just not getting it. Big surprise there! So, once again, Jesus boils it all down, this time to two simple words: “Follow me.” Tend my sheep, he says. Feed my sheep, he says. Follow me.

Sounds simple enough. Yet, from the looks of things, not many folks have given it much of a try. Following him, that is. Tending and feeding, that is. All the busy work of the Church and the nation tends to distract us from three simple messages here: Change what you’re doing; Come and have breakfast; Follow me. That’s it. In the midst of all the rest, mass shootings in churches, synagogues and mosques; reminders of the Holocaust; losing my two closest and faithful colleagues at St. Peter’s seven years ago this week; all the confusion and battling in D.C. Come and have breakfast are the words that bring me back to a place where I can begin again to follow him. To see him and to hear him. It’s as succinct a summary of the message of New Life in Christ that I know. Change what we’re doing. Come and have breakfast. Follow him. He is here to be seen and heard in the most surprising yet ordinary of circumstances.

He invites us, even now, to be his companions in The Way. Come. Come and have breakfast!