John 21 has long been one of my favourite gospel passages, and it has lost nothing of its beauty for its familiarity. In the midst of a deeply human scene, a shared breakfast on a beach at sunrise, it none the less expresses something of the mystery of God: this depth of love that even after utter abandonment and searing pain, allows the miracle of forgiveness. Forgiveness, and the trust to say even though you screwed up big time, I still want you to be part of this story.
As with everything in John's gospel, there is deep symbolism in the story, much of which, undoubtedly, I haven't fully understood.
At some point, probably a good few years ago now, I remember it being pointed out to me that the word for fish used here is a word "little fish" used only twice in the gospel: the previous time being at the feeding of the five thousand. There, the boy, humanity, brings the two small fish and Jesus multiplies them to provide enough for everyone to eat their fill. God can do nothing without humanity playing its part, but it is Jesus who works the creative miracle. Here, after the resurrection, the roles are reversed. Jesus brings the two small fish, but it is the disciples, humanity, who are asked to "throw the nets" and bring in a huge haul of fish; to take what is given by God and to work creative miracles of our own.
It seems unlikely that this choice of word, this drawing a parallel between these two stories, is mere coincidence: John doesn't work with coincidences he works with symbolic imagery. Perhaps this, then, is the essence of the resurrection message: just as Jesus during his earthly life stretched wide the boundaries of who was included at the table, who could share the feast, and demonstrated that there was plenty to go round for all those who chose to sit and eat; so we, as witnesses of the resurrection, are called to do the same: to push back the boundaries, to offer unbounded hospitality, to fish in a way that ensures everyone can eat.
Happy Easter!
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