In the early morning fog, the oyster farmers of Wellfleet, Massachusetts, set to work out on the bay. It’s a beautiful sight and a perfect setting to reflect on John 21:1-14, one of the Easter appearances in the Fourth Gospel.

As the story opens, the disciples have come full circle and are back to square one. Three years earlier, Jesus had invited Simon Peter and his fishing buddies to leave their nets behind and become “fishers of people.” Now, after all that has happened, this motley and beleaguered gang are back in Galilee, sitting on the shores of the sea of Tiberius, not knowing what to do with their lives. When Simon Peter says, “I’m going fishing,” they climb in the boat with him.

“I’m going fishing” is one of the great anti-climactic lines in all of literature. It’s like relapsing after a period of sobriety; sliding back into overwork; reverting to bad acquaintances and bad habits; or believing that, sooner or later, life will return to “normal,” back to the way things were before COVID-19 arrived among us.

That’s not the response that Jesus had hoped for from his closest disciples. When he told them, “Go to Galilee; there [you] will see me.” (Mt 28.10), Jesus was talking about resurrection, which is not a circle; it’s more like a slinky. With resurrection, we never end up back from where we started; we always end up in a new place, even if our zip code hasn’t changed.

In a recent blog post, Richard Rohr describes this universal pattern as order, disorder, reorder. Social scientists describe the process as: construction, destruction, reconstruction. I think of it as creation, erosion, restoration.

On the beach that morning, Peter and the other disciples have lost sight of the vision and way of Jesus, which is not surprising given what they had witnessed. First, Jesus had been arrested; then he was tortured and executed; then he appeared to them but left them again. This abrupt turn of events left Peter and the rest of the disciples to wonder, “What’s up with that?”

The apostles gathered on the beach are not “the contented simple fisher folk” we met in the beginning of the Gospel. They feel let down, abandoned, depressed, ashamed, and afraid. Their highest hopes have been dashed. Everything seems to have fallen apart.

Peter feels the worst of them all, for he had denied Jesus in front of the Roman authorities. All he wants now isan escape from his pain, shame, and disappointment, so he says, “I’m going fishing.” Since it appears that there is nothing else to do but to return to the way life had been, the others follow.

However, though they set out as usual, they can’t seem to catch anything. Experienced fishermen in familiar, plentiful waters, this solid crew with a home court advantage can’t catch a darn thing.

Life can be awfully frustrating when you return to your old ways and things don’t go right, when you don’t seem to have the same touch. It’s like putting on an old pair of glasses that you probably should have discarded when you got new ones. But you saved them--just in case. Now, when you put them on, they really don’t fit, and you can’t see very well.

In the gospel narrative, something remarkable, something incredible, happens on the waters that day. A stranger stands on the shore, calling out to them like a good mother, “Children, have you no fish?” Don’t you hate rhetorical questions like that? They are perfectly designed to make you look foolish. Isn’t it obvious that they have no fish?

Jesus — unrecognized by the disciples — instructs them to cast their net to the starboard side, where they will find some fish.

Have you ever been working on a problem that can’t be solved? You can’t see the forest for the trees. Then, somebody comes up and sees the solution from a different perspective, which in hindsight seems so obvious.

I call those “Ah hah!” moments.

That’s what happens to the disciples that morning. On their fishing excursion, they can’t see the fish through the water (so to speak). But when they follow the advice of a stranger who has another perspective, they catch so many fish that they can not even haul in the net.

At that point, Peter recognizes the stranger as Jesus. Why or how? We don’t know. It’s as if he remembers that Jesus had always taught them to look to the other side, to see beyond the obvious, to consider things from a different perspective: blessed are the poor; love your enemies; the first will be last; the one who leads must serve; and if you want to gain your life, you must lose it.

Remembering what he had learned from Jesus, Peter is energized. In fact, he is so invigorated that he dives into the water and swims to shore, leaving his co-workers to drag in the net and row themselves in. Reaching the beach, the disciples find Jesus, still in disguise so as not to be recognized, standing over a fire, grilling fish and bread.

After their hard night at sea, Jesus is there--making breakfast for his beloved friends.

In this simple act, Jesus re-enacts the Eucharistic moment from the Last Supper. He takes bread and gives it to them. They eat and remember. None of them dare to ask Jesus, “Who are you?” They already know.

They have not come full circle after all. And, Jesus is there to meet them – just as they were. Jesus is there with a hot cup of coffee, freshly baked bread, and grilled fish.

What more can you ask for after a hard night of fishing?

In this time of pandemic, we can’t physically gather to bless and share bread and wine around God’s holy table. In fact, we can’t really gather together at all except in small groups outside, six feet apart with our faces masked.

However…

God still comes to meet us at all the tables of our daily lives. God is among us as we make meals with family and friends in quarantine; celebrate birthdays and anniversaries over Zoom; send treats to loved ones in the hospital; grocery shop for neighbors who can’t leave their homes; deliver meals to the sick and shut-in; pack food and load up cars at local pantries; hand out bagged lunches to the homeless on our city sidewalks; and give bottles of water to demonstrators on the streets.

Few among us will have a Sea of Tiberius experience, but all are given the chance to start over in the eyes of God. We all can be a part of the re-ordering, reconstruction, restoration, and resurrection of our lives and the life of our nation and the world. However, we must be willing to consider life from a different perspective and live in a new way — as we throw the net to the other side of the boat.