By The Rev. Lindsey Altvater Clifton
“I’m going fishing.”
Growing up, it was an annual summer tradition to head to the beach the week of the Fourth of July with my dad’s family. My grandparents, my aunt and uncle and cousins, sometimes even extended family would come down with my dad, stepmom, brother, sister, and me.
And during that week, I would lose count of the number of times I heard that phrase: “I’m going fishing.” My little brother, Jared, and our younger cousin, Carson, were always grabbing a pole or a net and taking off somewhere to fish. On the pier. On the beach. In the campground pond. Out on a deep sea boat. On the intercostal waterway. Anywhere you could find a fish (and even in some places where I’m not totally sure you could), that’s where they’d be.
This beach hobby took root before the boys were 
even old enough to venture off on their own. And when they were just little guys…4 and 6, maybe…it didn’t matter what time of day or night it was…they could say “I’m going fishing” and my Papaw, my dad’s dad, would get up from whatever end of the couch he’d claimed as his napping spot for the week and take his boys out.
Though he never had a whole lot in the way of money and things, Papaw was generous beyond measure: with his time, with his Tic Tacs (which he always had in his t-shirt pocket), with his magical ability to fix seemingly anything. He joined the great cloud of witnesses that we remember and celebrate on All Saints Day today just over four years ago now; sometimes, of course, it seems like it’s been much longer than that, and in other moments, the loss feels all too fresh.
But as I hear Peter say “I’m going fishing” on this All Saints Sunday in the midst of our stewardship season, I can’t help but smile. There is both comfort in celebrating Papaw’s continued presence and joy in remembering his generosity. And in some ways, I think that’s just the reminder Jesus offers to his disciples in this text from John.
Having seen Jesus crucified and buried, having heard from Mary about the empty tomb, and having encountered the resurrected Jesus in a locked room, it seems that the disciples are seeking a return to some sort of normalcy, to the stability of their previous lives. So we find them by the Sea of Tiberius. And Peter decides to do what he knows how to do: go fishing. And his boys go with him.
But even after staying out in the boat overnight, they’ve got nothing. And that’s when Jesus appears on the shore, in their weariness and despair. Although, apparently, he’s incognito, because they don’t recognize him from afar. So this friendly stranger offers them some practical wisdom, another strategy: try the other side of the boat. Suddenly, fish are so abundant that they can’t haul the net in.
And that’s the sign that helps Peter recognize Jesus: the more-than-your-nets-can-hold abundance of Christ. And his generosity doesn’t stop there: when this motley crew makes it to the beach, Jesus has a warm fire and hot breakfast ready and waiting. There’s no wine for this Eucharistic meal, for this Last Brunch, but there’s bread and fish and the continued presence of one they love which draws them together.
As they savor the food and the company, the disciples “receive a recommissioning…They are reminded who they are and what they were originally called to be. They are challenged to get back in the boat and try again—in more ways than one.” (Karyn Wiseman, Working Preacher).
“Do you love me?” Jesus asks three times over. “Then follow me and feed my sheep,” he says in response.
While the metaphors are perhaps mixed, this seems to me to be a subtle, but continued thread of Jesus’ practical wisdom for how we might experience his generosity and participate in extending it to others: Try the other side of the boat. If you love me and the nets are empty, then do things differently—even if you’re tired or grieving or worried about the future; follow me into a new way of fishing and feeding because there is still abundance to be shared, generosity to be practiced, and community to be built. That is the way of more-than-enough life to which you are being called.
I can’t help but be drawn to how many fish the disciples caught. 153! That is an enormous load of fish! Fish of all kinds, perhaps. While any potential symbolic significance of that specific number, 153, is lost on us modern readers, the meaning of the story is not. What we see here is that when the disciples are willing to follow Jesus’ practical wisdom and do things differently—to try a new way in the face of devastating loss and an uncertain future, to put their nets back into the sea even though they tried and had no success—they draw in an over abundance of fish.
Oh, that we would be so readily willing to try new things in the face of our own loss and uncertainty and that we might know such an over abundance as we do God’s work in the world as fishers of people, too!
Today, on All Saints’ Sunday, we remember the saints, our beloved departed family of faith, and align ourselves with that chorus of witnesses who in happiness and difficulty, found their hope in Jesus and made their way as part of the kingdom of God. We remember with deep gratitude the myriad ways in which these family members and friends shared themselves and their lives with us, and we celebrate the gifts of generosity and community they offered, as well. Their faithful living and stewardship inspires our own, and we commit anew to joining the work they’ve begun as we seek to build the beloved community here and now.
In the presence of the great cloud of witnesses, we are called following Jesus with creativity, imagination, and joy. We are called to offer generosity and build community among the tired and the lonely; the vulnerable and the poor; the silenced, those at the margins, and those most in need of love. We are called to be living, breathing blessings in this community of faith and outside these doors so that our reality is transformed, so that all is made new.
Friends, on this All Saints Day, who do you remember and celebrate? Whose continued presence and spirit among us inspires your faithful response to God’s abundance and generosity? Whose life and spirit do you give thanks for as you think about your experiences of community and belonging and love?
In the company of all the saints: we’re going fishing. And we’re following Jesus. And we’re feeding God’s sheep. In new, different ways! Abundance is near, dear ones. So let’s have our nets ready. May it be so. This day and each day. Amen.