Third Sunday of Easter—“Breakfast!”

The skunking of the tired disciples in John 21:1-19 reminds me of Sandra Cisneros’ comparison of fishing to writing. The author of The House on Mango St. and many other works celebrating her Mexican heritage said the writing process is like assembling your gear, your tackle, your bait and your boat. Then after all that preliminary work, you row out, cast your line into the water and wait for a tug. A fish? Or for a writer, an inspiration, the words on the page falling together with a pleasing cadence, the ideas or the characters aligning surprisingly well.

How must they have felt, then? Jesus’ friends, after a discouraging night, suddenly find a net so full they can barely pull it in. Then, they don’t even need to arrange a celebration—Jesus has it all prepared. The maternal Jesus—a man who cooks–invites his tired, bedraggled disciples, “come, children, have breakfast.” He’s waited till dawn on the shore for them, now speaks to the hungry and bewildered a word of comfort, offering exactly what they need.

No fulmination, no revenge, no recrimination. Just a silhouette against the sunrise, and the tenderness of a parent feeding a family. The scene is so close to home, it affirms and underlines all we know best: goodbyes past, the warmth of fire, beauty of water, relief of food when we’re really hungry. Before asking Peter to feed the flock, Jesus makes sure his friend is well fed himself. He knows how wavering and uncertain our human nature can be. But he also knows, like a good mom, how to nurture.

Theologian Karl Rahner, SJ says “the resurrection means we become all we could ever have been. All the limits of this life are lifted and we are all we could ever hope and desire to be.” What potential! My imagination runs amuck with this—becoming a fine poet, a marine biologist, a really good wife and mother, a ballerina, an activist for justice, a world-renowned artist or musician, an environmentalist, a doctor-without-borders, an Olympic gymnast/skater/swimmer.

Even naming these must mean the seeds are in us, which will someday flower. So our own resurrections mean not only entering into infinite love, but also achieving all the goals we didn’t even attempt on earth. If limits on time and space are off, we can return to our favorite, most beautiful places in this world—with no check-out time.