The setting is familiar, the Sea of Galilee, a place that echoes with memories of the disciples’ first call. Yet now, they are in a very different situation. The risen Christ has appeared to them, and still, they seem unsure of their next steps. Peter, perhaps reflecting on his denial of Jesus, returns to what he knows best, fishing. The others join him, but their efforts yield nothing. It’s in this moment of fruitless labour, when the night seems longest and the nets are still empty, then at that moment, that the risen Lord appears on the shore. And isn’t that often the way with us too? It’s often when we most feel like giving up, when work is getting us nowhere, when relationships are strained or faltering, when health is failing or finances feel stretched to breaking, it’s in those quiet, weary spaces that Christ draws near. Not in the glare of certainty or strength, but in the soft light of dawn, on the shoreline of our lives, when we are most aware of our need. Reading this Gospel takes me back to my first year of ordination as a Deacon. My theological college, St Stephen’s House had arranged a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and one morning, we too set out on a replica fishing boat to sail the waters of Galilee. It was an unforgettable experience… the waves lapping gently at the shore, the silhouettes of the hills that have stood unchanged for centuries, and the sense of, in this case, sailing, where the disciples once had.At the end of our time on the water, we gathered on the shore for a fish breakfast. Sitting there, we read this very scene from John’s Gospel. What struck me was the timelessness of it all. The landscape remains largely untouched, and those same hills would have witnessed Peter and the others hauling in their miraculous catch… a moment when exhaustion gave way to abundance, and failure turned to fulfilment.Our New Testament tutor reflected on the words of a theologian called Albert Schweitzer and his well-known phrase: “He comes to us as one unknown.” Words inspired by our Gospel, and are taken from the closing lines of his seminal work ‘The Quest of the Historical Jesus’. His phrase reminds us that just as the disciples on the shore of Galilee initially failed to recognise the risen Lord, so too are we often slow to recognise Christ’s presence in our own lives. Yet, like the disciples, we are invited to discover Him afresh, not as a distant figure of history, but as the living Lord who meets us in the ordinary, everyday moments and calls us to deeper relationship.And so the call to follow is not a one-time event, it is a continual process of renewal, of returning to Christ, especially when we feel lost or uncertain. Discipleship is not about having all the answers, but about remaining faithful to the Lord who calls us. Like Peter, we may falter, but Christ’s grace restores and renews us, equipping us to begin afresh.For me, this Gospel is a story of fresh starts, something we all need from time to time. For Peter, this moment was deeply personal. After his threefold denial, he is given the opportunity for a threefold affirmation of love. ‘Do you love me?’ Jesus asks, not to condemn, but to restore. This speaks of a moment of healing, where the risen Christ reaches into Peter’s heart, not to dwell on failure but to renew his sense of purpose... ‘Feed my sheep.’For us, too, Christ offers fresh starts. There are times in life when we feel like the disciples, returning to old routines, uncertain of the way forward. Perhaps it’s the weariness of daily struggles, anxiety, the slow mending of a fractured relationship, or the quiet ache of feeling adrift. But Christ comes to meet us in those moments… not only offering forgiveness, but the grace to keep going, to begin again.Think of the times in our own lives when we’ve needed a fresh start: the first day in a new job after the old one ended in disappointment, the patient, the hope-filled act of trying again after failure, the long, slow work of rebuilding trust after words were spoken in haste. These moments mirror Peter’s encounter with Christ… reminding us that we are never beyond the reach of God’s renewing love.For the early Church, this Gospel would have resonated deeply. In Acts, we see the apostles boldly proclaiming the risen Christ, even in the face of persecution. Their courage and conviction is rooted not in their own strength, but in their encounter with the Risen Lord… the same Christ who had met them, in their weakness, by the lakeside, and commissioned them to continue His work. For the early Church, this was a genuine, living source of hope, assuring them that their efforts, however small or humble, were part of a much larger plan.Today’s Gospel invites us to recognise Christ’s presence in the ordinary. Just as He met the disciples on the shore, He meets us in the familiar rhythms of life… in the beauty of creation, in the kindness of a friend, or the quiet strength of a whispered prayer. The resurrection is not just an event to remember, but a reality to live. The Risen Christ continues to come to us, often in ways we least expect.Here at St. Stephen’s, the Eucharist is our ‘shoreline’… the meeting place where human need and God’s grace touch. Here, at the altar, Christ feeds us with His very self, and sends us out, once again, to be His witnesses in the world. And just as those hills around Galilee remain unchanged, so too does Christ’s love endure, offering us the ability to begin again, again and again.As we reflect on this Gospel in the days ahead, let’s hear Christ’s invitation to cast our nets once more… even if the night has been long, even if the nets feel empty. Let’s embrace the fresh starts He offers, and follow Him with renewed hearts and minds. Amen.
Have you ever been asked to do something that you felt eminently unqualified to do? Maybe a step up in a job or a massive project upon which hangs a huge amount of prestige?Imagine how the disciples felt when Jesus visited with them that first Easter evening. They were essentially hiding from the Judeans, in a locked room. Jesus came and stood among them – speaking peace into a troubled situation. The disciples are then tasked, by Jesus, to go spread the Word, to forgive sins (by the power of the Holy Spirit). Yes, Jesus had sent them out before but this time it was different And note that Jesus was not asking if they wouldn’t mind doing all this…He’s telling them to do so.They can only do this with the help of the Holy Spirit – Jesus’ breath, God’s breath enabling them to accomplish an otherwise impossible task. Jesus breathed on them saying ‘Receive the Holy Spirit…’God breathed life into Adam (gen 2:7) and man came alive.Now, at the beginning of the new creation, God’s restorative breath is breathed onto the disciples ‘making new people of them and through them, offering this new life to the world’.As Christians we are to continue the work that Jesus began and that can often be very exhausting. We should ask God regularly for a filling of the Holy Spirit to empower us to fulfil our calling. The Holy Spirit is a beautiful and powerful part of who God is. We need Him in our lives as a conduit to become who God created us to be. Without Him, we are powerless. So it was with the disciples.But while all this is happening in that locked room, there is someone missing – Thomas is not with the rest of the disciples when Jesus first appears to them. Tom Wright describes Thomas’ absence thus: ‘the dour, dogged disciple who suggested that the disciples might as well go with Jesus, if only to die with Him (Jn 11:16), who complained that Jesus hadn’t made things anything like clear enough (Jn 14:5) just happened to be somewhere else on that first Easter day.’ We are not told where……So, when the other disciples excitedly told him what had happened, I wonder what went through his mind……When Thomas finally does see Jesus, and Jesus speaks to him, was he, Jesus, really rebuking him or not? There are differing schools of thought about this. That Jesus is being rather gentle with Thomas almost in a kindly father chastising an stroppy son type of way. Or that He is actually really rather disappointed in Thomas and his doubting. And that doubting is actually shameful, unwanted in this world (David Helm in ‘A Conversation withJesus on Doubt). Personally, I much prefer the notion that Jesus is not rebuking Thomas. It is suggested that some people do, actually, need doubt before they can believe. Doubt can lead to questions, which in turn lead to answers, which if accepted means that doubt has done good work. But when doubt becomes stubbornness which then becomes prideful lifestyle – then doubt has harmed faith. If, or when, we doubt – let’s let our doubt deepen our faith as we continue searching for the answers.Thomas is invited to put his fingers in the nail holes in Jesus’ hands and to put his hand into the wound in Jesus’ side, just as Thomas himself had said he needs to do before he believes. But as soon as he sees and hears Jesus, this need to actually feel the wounds is gone and he openly accepts that this is indeed the risen Christ – ‘My Lord and my God’ – acknowledging the fully human and fully divine Jesus.The link between Thomas’ seeing and our believing is John’s writing, as he explains at the end of today’s reading. If we trust in the veracity of what he has written in this pretty epic gospel we have belief based on eyewitness testimony – actual written testimony. Tom Wright writes ‘the paradox of faith – touching is possible, seeing is enough but believing is best of all.’Let us pray:Lord Jesus Christ, it is hard sometimes to believe. In the face of frustrated hopes and broken dreams, of sorrow, suffering and death, we too, like Thomas, can find ourselves doubting. Help us then, even when faith is hard, even when it’s a struggle to hold on, to put our trust in You, knowing that You will not fail us. Amen.
Every year I write a plethora of sermons for Holy Week. I had one or two less to write this year, thanks to Fr Clive, but it’s still a lot of thought and a lot of typing. We use set readings of course, and most weeks come in a three year cycle, so it might, if you’re lucky, be six or even nine years before I repeat myself, because surely I can think of at least two things to say about each part of the Bible, you would hope. That’s why so many priests move on after ten years – you catch yourself saying what you said nine years ago and think ‘time to let someone else say something new’. Easter though is different, it’s the same readings every year, but because there are so many people who I only see twice a year, I feel an impetus to try and be jolly and brief, to provide an upbeat message of hope and new life, maybe even to bring chocolate eggs and fluffy bunny rabbits into it. Well, I did that last year, so it’s sin this year.Jesus said to Thomas, “You have believed because you have seen. Blessed are those who will not be able to see but will still be willing to believe.” He came to faith of course, through the physical sight of Jesus being alive after being very much dead, but also because, maybe most importantly because, he came to see that the promises Jesus made when he was with them began to come true. That’s why we believe, because we see, amidst all the manure of the world and indeed the manure in the Church of God, that this man on the cross spoke a truth which is still unfolding in our time, to us and with us.The real issue surrounding Easter is not what Thomas or the other disciples did or did not believe; the real issue for us is whether or not you and I believe this same story. Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God? Do you believe that he lived on this earth as an extension of the very presence of God himself? Do you believe that when he died on that middle cross that all of your sins were forgiven if you just put your faith in him and live your lives in a way which shows that clearly? The blessing is not to those who were disciples, but to those who bore witness to this having not seen it in Galilee and who do not doubt it, to those who never saw it, and yet they are willing to stake their lives and their souls on it. The blessing belongs to you and to me, and to anyone else who stands nearly 2000 years removed from Calvary and who continues to proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord.Easter is about real life, not escapist fantasy. Easter is about God's judgment calling the world to account and setting up his new, glorious creation of freedom and peace, summoning all people everywhere to live in this new world. Easter is about God's rich welcome to all humankind. That is the point of it all, we do our worship and we live our lives for others because Easter is about Jesus who announced God's saving, sovereign kingdom; who died to exhaust the power of this world's rulers; who rose again to be crowned as king over all things in heaven and on earth. God give us grace, this day and from now on, to live as Easter people, celebrating Jesus' love and joy at his table and making his kingdom and justice known in his world, to His glory.What have you come here today to bear witness to? I hope that you are prepared to witness that Christ is lord. I hope you are prepared to witness that because of him your sins are forgiven. I hope you are prepared to say that you will walk by faith and not by sight. Follow Christ today even though there is much that we do not understand and may never fully understand. Follow Christ today as the way, the truth and the life. Follow Christ today, even though everything in your present world is not as you wish it to be. Say what Thomas said after he saw and touched Jesus; my saviour and my lord. Only your blessing will be greater than his, because you did not see what Thomas saw and yet you believed this day.I cannot prove that Jesus was born of a virgin mother, but I believe it. I cannot prove that he made the blind see or the lame to walk or the dead to come back to life. I cannot prove any of that, but I believe all of that. I cannot prove that a prayer spoken in faith is heard by God. I cannot prove it, but my God do I believe it! I cannot prove that the days and days I spend in deliverance ministry has any effect, but my God I believe it when I see lives changed and evil fleeing.Today we stand with Thomas who made his move from doubt to declaration. Today we can stand in the company of the man on one of the other crosses who, when he reached heaven, may have been asked ‘do you believe in the Creeds, in the Bible, in the doctrines of trinitarian revelation and in the deposit of faith given to the Church of God’ to which he would stand and say ‘I do not know what any of that means, but I know that the man on the middle cross said that I could come, and here I am’. Here you are, here I am, because the man on the middle cross said we could be, and that is, I can tell you without any doubt after years of standing in these peculiar little boxes, is the only thing that matters, love is what matters. Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Today we start again to tell the story of a week which changed the world so much that we still have to almost act it out every year in order to begin to comprehend what it meant, to remind ourselves that what happened two thousand years ago was not a dream, not even a nightmare, not the beginning of the end, but the end of the end. Today we do this rather dramatic thing, even bringing a donkey along, and wearing vestments which are blood-red, because at the beginning of Holy Week we anticipate the week’s end. The One who enters Jerusalem today is already a dead man walking. There was no earthly hope for him since his enemies had made up their minds: judicial murder would be his end. And for the judicial murder the instrument at hand would not be a clean or antiseptic one like the lethal injection is at any rate supposed to be. The preference of the Roman authorities for crucifixion was even more blood thirsty than the Jewish method of stoning. And so, it’s blood we’re thinking of already. Soon blood will be flowing. You may say, so what? There’s so much blood shed in the world: in accidents, wars, gang stabbings and murders, natural disasters, political atrocities. Yes, but this blood is different, this blood do we remember after two thousand years, even to the point of wearing clothes to keep that blood fresh in our minds.This is saving, salvific, redemptive blood. It is the blood that came streaming through the firmament, and St Catherine of Siena perceived as soaking the Church in its flow. It is royal blood, the blood of the Messiah, to be shed in a self-giving whose effects are so wonderful that this coming murder is a triumph, and not a defeat. This is not just the red of blood. It is also the red of the victory of the King of Kings.The place where it all happened matters. The location is not without significance – not by any manner of means. Today the Lord sought to enter his own city, Zion, Jerusalem, the holy city. That he chose to do so with such a rag tag army of the dispossessed, the forgotten, the despised and in one extraordinary case, the recently smelly dead, should tell us as much about what kind of King he will be as we could ever wish to know. It was the city of the Most High God whose vocation was to be the dwelling-place on earth of the truth, closeness and love of God. It was a city that belonged to Jesus Christ by right – not only owing to the fact that he was Israel’s true Messiah , but because of the way in which he was so: a way unthought of even by the most far-seeing of the prophets: he was incarnate God and so in his divine-human person he is the measure of all truth, all closeness and all love. The relationship between God and the world finds its highest embodiment in his person which now walks into His own city, to the cries of ‘Hosanna’, which means, ‘save us’. Oh, but that they only could know how that salvation was to be wrought. Oh, that we could understand.But the entry into the city was an echo of the past, Scripture knew of cities that kept their gates firmly closed, to their loss. Jericho closed its doors against Joshua and ensured it would miss out on the moment of divine history sweeping up with the tribes of Israel escaping from Egypt. Despite this morning’s hosannas, later this week Jerusalem will close its doors on Jesus. It will not simply bar him, as Jericho barred Joshua. It will have him contained in the praetorium and crucified outside the gate.We know parallels to such closure in our own lives. We can close the door of our own self, of our hearts, of even our churches, snap them shut, when to open would have meant healing for ourselves and others. On Good Friday the Saviour will do the opposite to what Jericho and Jerusalem did. He will open his arms as wide as they can go, so that all the world may march in through the wound in his side, into the spacious welcome of his Sacred Heart, where all may find a home, and where pain and sorrow are no more. Now we know what kind of King He is to be, we ask ourselves what kind of disciples we are asked to become.
