Third Sunday of Easter: April 22, 2007.

Acts 9:1-6 (7-20)

Psalm 30

Revelation 5:11-14

John 21:1-19

One of the most effective political campaigns in the twentieth century supported a candidate who, by all accounts, ranks among the worst presidents in the history of the United States. Warren G. Harding promised that he would lead a "Return to Normalcy." Coming not quite two years after the armistice that ended the Great War's hostilities, the nation leapt at the notion.

In doing so, Harding tapped into a universal human sentiment. We can usually deal well enough with the highs and lows of life, as long as there's a "normal" to return to thereafter. We can do great things on adrenaline, but not forever. Like Peter in John 21, we get to a point when we're ready to resume the status quo ante. "I am going fishing," said he, and his companions replied immediately, "We will go with you" (v. 3).

The preacher on this day faces such sentiments not merely in the sermon's hearers but in the preacher's own heart. "Hail Thee, Festival Day," we sang two weeks ago. And again last week (OK, at least I would; it's one of my favorite hymns). But a Third Sunday of Easter? Enough already!

What we tend to forget is that, as of Easter, "normal" isn't normal any more. We have turned a corner. We have entered a new eon. Today's three texts show this from distinct but complementary angles.

In John 21, Peter and six companions spend their night fishing a football field away from shore (v. 8) but without success (v. 3). In a scene reminiscent of that in which, according to Luke 5:1-11, Jesus began calling his disciples, Jesus instructs them to lower their nets, and the catch is overwhelming. Just as in the Lukan incident Jesus had interpreted what had just happened by saying, "from now on you will be catching people" (v. 10), so John specifies that a total of 153 large fish were caught.

Given the importance of numbers throughout John's Gospel, while one cannot be absolutely certain of its significance, St. Jerome's conjecture that it represents the number of species of fish and is hence symbolic of all people is surely more likely than the conclusion of the often brilliant sainted Martin Franzmann, "the most natural explanation of the number 153 would seem to be that there were 153 fish in the net" (Concordia Self-Study Commentary [1979], p. 103). The Risen Christ is telling the seven disciples (note the perfect number) that the fishing will be great from now on but very different from before.

The new time has come, but there is still old business to be dealt with. Specifically, unlike the Synoptics, John's Gospel had never said that Peter repented of his denial of Jesus (18:27; cf. Mt 26:75; Mark 14:72; Luke 22:62). This chapter, likely as not an addendum to the original Gospel (given the apparent closure in 20:30f.), allows Peter to grieve (elupethe, v. 17), but, even more, it accords this leader among the apostles a singular honor. Jesus tells him that he will die in the manner that he himself did, and the evangelist adds a typically Johannine editorial comment: "He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God" (v. 19)--cf. the nearly identical wording regarding Jesus in 12:33. Peter is not merely forgiven; he is promised enthronement in the manner of his Lord. This is the perfect complement to the conversation between Jesus and Peter at the footwashing scene in chapter 13: it is especially Peter's hands, head, and feet that will "have [a] share" in Jesus' kind of servant-leadership. Long before Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote it (and subsequently lived it himself), Peter knew the literal truth: "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die" (Cost of Discipleship [ET MacMillan, 1948]). There was no going back to fishing.

Acts 9 recounts what is arguably the most dramatic change in life direction in all of Scripture, the conversion of Paul. Like Jesus, Paul (here called by his Hebrew name, Saul) comes back to the land of the living on the third day (v. 9). Like Peter, the text explicitly states that Paul's new life will entail a "theology of the cross" (albeit not quite as literally, given his Roman citizenship): "I myself [Jesus] will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name" (v. 16). Also like Peter, Paul comes through the water to his Lord--in his case, as he undergoes baptism (v. 18). And, just as in the Johannine account, both fish and food play a prominent role in this kairotic moment: "something like scales [Gk. lepis, "fish scales"] fell from his eyes ... and after taking some food, he regained his strength" (v. 18f.). As God did with Elijah at a turning point in his life (1 Kgs 19:5-8), in both the Gospel and First Reading the Lord (in Paul's case, through Ananias) sees to it that his followers are well fed for their new journeys (cf. John 21:12f.). In sum, while Paul's conversion is likely the most atypical in the history of the church, what follows is paradigmatic for the faithful of all times and places: the death of the old and the birth of the new, all in Christ.

In its own way Rev 5:11-14 marks the turning of the times as well. Following the addresses to the seven churches in Asia (Minor), there is a splendid portrayal of the Lamb enthroned in cc. 4-5, followed by the opening of the scroll's seven seals in cc. 6-8. Thus, this reading forms a part of the great opening vision of the book, depicting the victorious Pascal victim, who has now "ascend[ed] to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God" (John 20:17). The rest of the book calls on the church to remain faithful through the "mopping-up operations," which NT scholar Oscar Cullmann helpfully compared to the Allies' efforts in Europe following D-Day.

As is typical in Revelation, the reading is full of symbolic numbers and allusions to OT texts. Thus, the Lamb is lauded with seven attributions in v. 12 and four in v. 13--both perfect numbers. The four (!) living creatures are those whose first biblical appearance was in the "chariot chapter" (chap. 1) of Ezekiel's call vision--and these, in turn, are surely what OT scholars term Ezekiel's "baroque" ornamentation of the seraphim in Isaiah 6 and the cherubim that flanked the ark in Exod 25:18-20. The upshot is that the Lamb is both addressed and envisioned in terms otherwise reserved to God. For example, it is the Lord YHWH who is seated on the throne-chariot, or ark of the covenant, in Ezekiel 1, just as the Lamb is here. Indeed, "the elders fell down and worshiped" (v. 14; cf. 22:8f., which clarifies that no one but God is to be worshipped in Revelation). And not only the elders participated: "every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them" praise God and the Lamb in majesty coequal (v. 13). Now that Easter has happened, it is just as Paul said in the Second Reading for the Sunday of the Passion: "at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Phil 2:10f.). GCH