5/1/22 "When You Know, You Know" by Nancy E. Petty
John 21:1-19
To use an analogy that you have heard me use before: The twenty-first chapter of John reminds me of my former days of standing in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. I emphasize the word “former” hopefully to escape the lectures from all the caring and well-meaning nutritionist out there. In those days, I would find myself staring for way too long at all my options. Do I go with Tony the Tiger and choose those sugary frosted flakes? Or give in to the little leprechaun and jump over the rainbow into a bowl of Lucky Charms. Or better yet, does Captain Crunch win the battle of the cereals?
This week, I have found myself both pondering and being overwhelmed with the plethora of sermon options that can be found in the twenty-first chapter of John, likely a later addition to the original gospel. Do I choose to focus on the first three verses where Simon Peter invites some of the other disciples to go fishing with him and after a night out on the water they come up with empty nets? Might there be something for us to ponder there, like: What does it mean to labor for something without immediate results?
Or do I move on to the next section of the narrative where, to the disciples a stranger appears on the lakeside shore, and suggests to the fishermen that they cast their nets to the other side of the boat? Now that’s a sermon. What does it mean to ask the question, “Are we fishing on the wrong side of the boat?” As the church, big C church, have we placed our priorities on the wrong side of history? Instead of fishing for “right belief”, shouldn’t we be fishing for “righteous behavior”—meaning living a moral life? Instead of fishing on the side of the boat that leans toward greed, shouldn’t we be fishing on the side of the boat that offers radical generosity? Instead of casting our nets on the side of the boat that privileges some and oppresses others, shouldn’t we be casting our nets on the side of the boat that rescues the perishing and cares for those dying under systems of white dominance? You get that sermon—the one where Jesus is telling us to cast our nets to the side of the poor and the oppressed and the marginalized. The good news of that sermon is that when we cast our nets on that side of the boat we reap in abundance.
But how could a wise preacher defer a sermon on the question Jesus poses to Peter, “Peter, do you love me? If so, then tend to and care for my people.” Oh how we need to answer that question today. “Pullen, do you love me? Do you love me intimately? Do you love me in the way so as to ground your sense of belonging with me? Do you love me in such a way that you orient your purpose in life to love others? ” What does it mean for our particular community to answer that question with affirmation, and then to tend to and care for God’s people? What does it mean to place our sense of belonging and purpose in our love for God and God’s people?
The writer of this later addition to John’s gospel gave the church three essential questions it would do well to ask itself in our time. What does it mean to labor without immediate results, and to trust that the seeds we plant now will one day bloom? What does it mean to fish on the opposite side of the boat? What side of history will we choose to cast your nets on? And, what does it mean to place our sense of belonging and purpose in our love for God and God’s people? Three critical questions.
And still, there is a fourth, less obvious, possibly more crucial, question posed in the twenty-first chapter of John. And it is this question that I invite us to ponder this morning. Before Jesus’ inquiry to Peter about loving him, we read this:
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 ashore, 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 to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and give it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
A quick note before I continue. While the writer of John chapter 21 writes that this was the “third” time that Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead, it was actually the fourth appearance. His very first appearance was to Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” at the tomb. It is clear from historical and textual evidence that Mary and other women were, in fact, disciples, though they have been written out of that designation in our sacred scriptures. And yet, another sermon for another time.
Let me now turn to this fourth, crucial question that has my attention. Our text says that when Jesus said to the disciples, “Come and have breakfast.” none of disciples dared to ask him who he was because “they knew it was the Lord.” Cynthia Bourgeault in her book, The Wisdom Jesus, notes that Jesus asks repeatedly throughout the gospels, “Who do you say that I am?” which she writes, “really means, ‘Who or what in you recognizes me?”
In her book, Bourgeault writes about this recognition energy. She explains, “It’s the capacity to ground truth a spiritual experience in your own being. The gospels [she writes] are built on it—and so was the early church—as the powerful liberation energy of the Christ event spills over and travels forward, moving from recognition to recognition.”
Now I am not a student of Cynthia Bourgeault or of the wisdom tradition of which she teaches. However, there is something about this recognition energy of which she writes that I have experienced as something real and significant. Instead of quoting a lot of Cynthia, I’m going to recommend that you read her book, The Wisdom Jesus, and I want to tell you two of my own stories that, in different ways, illustrates this wisdom way of knowing—this recognitions energy—of which she speaks.
The first story comes out my visit to The Republic of Georgia a number of years ago. As part of my time in Georgia, Malkhaz planned a three day trip to the Black Sea. The purpose was to visit a house church located in that area as well as some other communities along the way that are connected to the ministry of Peace Cathedral. On our journey back to Tbilisi, on the last day of our three day trip beyond the city, it was getting late and Malkhaz declared we needed to find dinner. Not long after his declaration, we turned off the main road onto another more bumpy dirt road. A few miles later, we came upon an open field. On the edge of the field was small structure. Outside the structure was an open kitchen—that is rocks piled together to make a fire pit and a few wooden tables sitting about.
Malkhaz had a brief conversation with some of the people milling about the small structure and then motioned for us to get out of the van. There were about eight of us. As we walked about stretching our legs I noticed a long wooden table, probably about 10ft long, sitting in the middle of the field. After some more stretching and walking about, we began gathering around the table for conversation. As we sat talking, I noticed some women gathering vegetables from a garden that was just beyond where we were sitting. I watched as they carried their harvest to the tables beside the fire that had been started for cooking. As I was watching the women, I noticed two men who appeared carrying freshly caught fish on a string. Those men would soon join us around the table for conversation. By now some raw vegetables had been placed on the table for our enjoyment. Over the next 2 hours the women brought an abundance of food to the table, including fire baked fish that still to this day is the best fish I have ever eaten. Once the feast was set, everyone (and I mean everyone, the fisherman, the gardener, the women who had cooked our meal) gathered around the table. The food was blessed and we began eating. Simple but extraordinarily exquisite and bountiful is the only way I know how to describe that meal. While much of the conversation was spoken in Georgian, I had this feeling—it was a deep inner feeling—that I was every bit a part of the conversation. Even as Malkhaz translated the words, there was a spirit that I understood that went beyond the language I couldn’t understand. We prayed together. We ate together—no one was left out. We laughed together. We shared our lives with one another. Those five hours hold, still in my heart, a sacred space. It was a recognition event full of the recognition energy of which I believe Bourgeault speaks. In that field, with those people, eating that meal, I recognized the powerful liberation energy of the Christ event spilling over and traveling forward; to me, to everyone around that table, to us. In that moment, I was aware that I was a part of the Christ energy event. The words, “give us this day our daily bread” came alive. The invitation of Jesus to “come and eat” felt real. The affirmation that “all are welcome” was never more obvious. “Wherever two or three are gathered, I am there” held new meaning. When you know, you know. That night, I know beyond any doubt, was a recognition event in which I experienced the presence of the risen Christ. The risen Christ was at that table with us just as surely as on that lakeside shore with those early disciples. When you know, you know.
The other recognition event is a much shorter story. I was in the midst of a discernment process, discerning whether or not to become one of your pastors. I had finished exercising at the YMCA, just steps away from this sanctuary. As I was leaving the Y, I stepped into the small chapel there. As I sat alone in the silence, I prayed, “God, what should I do?” Out of the silence, I heard this: “I will be with you.” It wasn’t a “yes” or a “no.” It was simply, “I will be with you.” Immediately, I recognized that response as a promise that God has given God’s people throughout the ages. “I will be with you.” And in that moment of recognition—of knowing that I live in a tradition that has sustained people of faith for generations—I knew that the risen Christ was present with me and will be with me in all of life. When you know, you know!
The wisdom tradition calls us to see with the “eye of the heart”—the heart not just being a place of feeling as our modern culture defines heart knowing, but rather where our spiritual knowing is held. Bourgeault writes: “In the heart, only there—in “the cave of the heart,” as the mystics are fond of calling it—does a person come in contact with his or her own direct knowingness. And only out of this direct knowingness is sovereignty born, one’s own inner authority.” (The Wisdom Jesus, page 7) The disciples dared not ask because they finally had seen with “the eye of the heart.”
In each of the post-resurrection appearances, Jesus is not recognized at first. “Mary Magdalene mistakes him for the gardener. The disciples in Jerusalem mistake him for a ghost. The disciples on the road to Emmaus recognize him, but only in retrospect, after he has vanished. And the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias are able to identify him (by his telltale signature of abundance) only after he has miraculously heaped their fishing nets full of fish.” (The Wisdom Jesus, page 128-129)
We don’t always recognize the risen Christ immediately. Why? I’m not totally sure, but I think it has a lot to do with our willingness to see with the “eye of the heart.”
The good news of the twenty-first chapter of John is that if we look for Jesus with the “eye of the heart” we will find the risen Christ: as we gather with friends to share a meal, as we tend to and care for the poor among us, as we place our sense of belonging and purpose in loving God and welcoming all, as we labor for justice trusting that our labor is not in vain even when we can’t see the results, as we cast our nets on the opposite side of where our society and even the church tells us to cast our nets. It is in these acts that we will have these recognition events and know that indeed the risen Christ is alive today.
