"Moishe and Fish," an Easter Friday sermon by the Rev. Dr. William Seth Adams, Professor-emeritus of Liturgics and Anglican Studies, given in Christ Chapel on April 21, 2006

John 21.1-14

Blessed be the Name of God

At this very hour, only a week ago, he hung, suspended in mid-air, on the cross of his death. And today he is teaching by the lakeside. And we are glad, indeed.

Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus…'Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some [fish].' So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many.

When [the disciples] had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, 'Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.' So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; …Jesus said, "Come and have breakfast.' Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, 'Who are you?' because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. [Jn 21.4, 6, 9-13]

The glories of Easter include our reading some of the richest and most colorful stories the gospels have to tell. Through Easter week and each Sunday thereafter, we are graced with yet another recounting of the miracle of resurrection. Ironically, in each story, Jesus goes unrecognized. At the outset, no one knows who he is. The women, particularly Mary Magdalene, mistook him for the gardener. The two poor souls on the road to Emmaus, didn't get it until he broke the bread. Those gathered in a secret room met him as he entered mysteriously through a locked door and even though he greeted them as he had so many times-peace be with you-it was only when he showed his wounds that they recognized him-and Thomas, ever the doubtful skeptic, had to be convinced by touch. Great stories, probably as familiar as any in the Scriptures. Small glimpses of the mystery of God.

We have another of these stories before us today, a story that John, the gospel writer, has eagerly reported in very fine detail. And it's with that level of detail that I want to work.

In order for us to travel together properly into these details, I need to equip you with a technical term, one taken from the tradition of Yiddish storytelling. As in every tradition of ethnic tales, in the world of Yiddish stories, there are standard characters, characters who carry and call to mind predictable attributes. When these folks appear in a story, the hearers know what to expect. And "what they expect" is taken for granted, duly noted, nothing extraordinary. It's just the way that particular character "is."

There are two such characters about which I must tell you. These two are normally described together, tho' only one of this set is relevant to our task. The first character is the "schlemiel." You have probably heard of him. A "schlemiel" is a person who is always doing something wrong, making mistakes. For example, if the schlemiel were portrayed as a waitperson, it would be his nature to be forever spilling soup on someone.

Now the other part of this pair is called the "schlimazel." Whereas the schlemiel is constantly doing things wrong, the schlimazel is constantly having things happen to him. If the schlemiel is forever spilling soup, the schlimazel is forever having soup spilled on him. [It may be that the world could most easily be divided into these two dispositions.] It's the second of these two that is of interest to us. There is, in the miraculous story that John recounts, a schlimazel. We'll engage the story, and retell it, from his point of view.

* * * * * * * * * *

He had never liked fish. It was odd to live by the Sea of Tiberias as Moishe did, and not like fish. They were everywhere. Most of the men in his village depended on the sea for their livelihood, one way or another. But Moishe wasn't one of them. He just didn't like fish -- didn't like the way they looked or smelled or tasted. Living in a fishing village and not liking fish-people who knew Moishe weren't surprised, of course, Moishe was like that. Things happened to him -- like turning up in a fishing village and hating fish. The soup stains on his tunic were testimony -- if you know what I mean. Things happen to Moishe.

That was why it was odd that when he got home on the day in question, he smelled of fish. His loving wife, Felicity, greeted him at the door as she usually did but instead of her usual warm "hello" and a hug, she said rather sternly, "My goodness, you really smell bad! What on earth happened to you?"
"It's an odd story," he said-and Felicity knew, more or less, what was coming. "Odd stories" were typical for her dear Moishe. After all, things happened to him.

They sat at the kitchen table and Moishe began. "I was down at the labor hall, looking for a day's work, just like I usually do." Moishe and Felicity pieced together a living in this sort of way-she sewed for the ladies in the village and Moishe worked as a day laborer. "This guy came in," Moishe said, "and asked if there was someone there who could count."

"I thought it was a stupid thing to ask but I said, 'Sure, I can count. What's the deal?'" "'The guy said, 'Come on, I've got some counting for you to do. I'll pay you for the work. Meet me at the seashore.'" "The seashore,' Moishe thought, " -- that doesn't sound good -- but I need the work and the money so I said, OK."

"At the seashore, I saw the most remarkable thing. There was this naked man -- later I learned that his name was Peter -- standing there. All of a sudden, he put on his clothes and jumped into the sea. What a way to begin a day's work-a naked man putting on clothes to jump into the sea! Clothes or not, he jumped in to help these other guys haul in the fullest net I have ever seen. Peter was really a big strong fellow and, with the others, he managed to get the net ashore. One of the other guys said they had fished all night and caught nothing-but that this stranger had come along and told them to put the net out again, on the other side of the boat-actually he said "on the right side of the boat." They thought it was a ridiculous idea but they did it anyway. And, bingo, look at what happened. Truly, it was an amazing catch."

But there was something even wilder, said Moishe, than the great catch of fish. This guy said that the stranger was Jesus, you know the man who was crucified in Jerusalem-and that he had been raised from the dead. This whole business scared me-it was really a weird deal!" [Again, Felicity, smiling, was not surprised-her Moishe, just by himself, was a weird deal, but she loved him.]

"So," Felicity said, "what did they want with you?"

"Well, the fellow who hired me, he said he was writing this story -- at first I thought he was a reporter for the Tiberias Times but later I didn't think so-he said his name was John. He needed my help.
"He said that to get the true sense of the miraculous event, he needed a count. 'Count what?,' I said. "The fish," John said, "count the fish."

"My goodness sakes alive, I said to myself, or something like that, I hate fish! I'm not about to do that. I don't care if I did tell him I'd do it -- I didn't know what he had in mind. I was just looking for some work-and some pay. Well, yes, some pay. Dear Lord, how do I get myself into these things. They just fall on me like the soup on my clothes!"

"Ok," I said, "I'll do it." With something less than enthusiasm, Moishe began. One, two, three, four, five….

Meanwhile, Jesus, the One who had been raised, said to the fishermen, "Come and have breakfast." [Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…] Moishe noticed that the fishermen who were invited to breakfast, didn't say anything. [Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three…boy, do I hate fish.] Moishe saw Jesus take some of the bread and give it to the people around the fire. They were transfixed, as if in a trance. [One twenty four, one twenty five, one twenty six…] Then, the stranger brought a piece of bread to Moishe, too, and when their hands touched and Moishe said thanks, he too was transfixed-he almost lost count. There was something remarkable going on. Something more than remarkable. [One forty two, one forty three, one forty four…] Then the stranger took some of the fish off the fire and gave it away, too. And he brought some to Moishe, just like the bread. Moishe didn't want to be rude, but he couldn't help himself, "No thanks, he said, I hate fish. [One fifty three, that's it, thank God!]

When the whole affair was over, John asked for the total. One hundred fifty three, said Moishe. John wrote down the number, said thanks and paid Moishe for his time. Exhausted, Moishe went home.

As usual, he told Felicity all about it. She listened attentively. Great catch, a stranger alive after death, more than remarkable, and all those fish. Just another day's work!

They sat in silence together for a moment. Then, as if to get back to the rest of his life, Moishe stood up from the table, walked to the back porch, stretched his arms, and took a deep breath -- glad the whole thing was over but altogether certain that some things had changed, changed forever. And, of course, some things hadn't. Moishe desperately needed to wash, so he headed for the creek in the back yard. On his way, he fell down the back stairs.

Blessed be the Name of God

wsa