3/29/64

Scripture: John 21: 1-17

As the days of winter lengthen toward the spring each year, we observe that period preceding Easter which we call Lent. Lent can mean different things to differing people. To some, Lent may have been a kind of voluntarily-assumed burden, involving self-denials of some sort; a time of solemnity and sober reflection. To some it is a time for laying hold on the truth that we otherwise hardly take time to perceive. It can be a time of eagerness as we approach the event which is central to Christian conviction. Easter is a time of great joy -- not because it brings release from restraint; not because of the color and the music and the freshness which we associate with the day; but because it celebrates the resurrection. There are great truths; there are great spirits; there are great causes; that do not cease to be, in death.

Shortly before the death of Mr. William Howard Taft in 1930, he was strolling in Washington with the Rev. Dr. Henry Sloane Coffin. Dr. Coffin, a minister and seminary president, ventured to ask Mr. Taft what he thought of the prospects of the League of Nations. It was evident that the League was feeble and seemingly collapsing. This big former president, Mr. Taft, stopped abruptly, squared round to face Dr. Coffin, and said: “You ought to know that, in this world, the best things get crucified; but they rise again.”

Indeed they do! The United Nations is a stronger manifestation of merit than the old League. And if it should one day be crucified, something will again appear because the truth that all people and nations are part of one world will not be put aside. It must live.

We have the deep feeling that personality lives immortally. Scientists can not demonstrate it in just the same way that they can test a chemical formula or demonstrate a biological reaction. But great thinkers have long been persuaded that there are significant evidences of immortality.

One of the great philosophers at the turn of the century was Professor William James of Harvard. He suffered poor health for some time. But his mind was accounted one of the great. Someone asked him the question: “Why do you believe in personal immortality?” To which he replied: “Because I am just getting fit to live.” He was sixty-two when he made that reply.

One of the intimations of immortality appears in what Howard Thurman calls a “sense of presence.” A great old teacher was Dr. Edward Increase Bosworth of the faculty at the Oberlin Graduate School of Theology. He was the kind of fellow who would walk two blocks out of his way just to speak an encouraging “Good Morning” to the custodian who was shoveling snow off the sidewalk. Many years ago, the churches of the village of Oberlin used to unite with the College in a service of Thanksgiving. One morning, when Dr. Bosworth was conducting such a service, he made time, after the sermon, for a period of testimonials. Whoever felt moved to do so, would rise and give vocal expression of their thanks to God. This particular Morning, a very elderly Negro woman rose to speak. She had learned to read when she was 62 years old, in order that she might read the Bible for herself. She was, at first, a bit overcome with emotion. But she recovered herself and then said quite simply, “I know that my redeemer lives, for he lives in my soul. Glory Hallelujah!” Then there was silence. Into the stillness came the voice of Dr. Bosworth, “What the sister has just said is the final word that the human spirit has to say about the meaning of life and the meaning of God. I rejoice to be in her fellowship, and I can only repeat her words, ‘I know that my redeemer lives, for he lives in my soul. Glory Hallelujah!’”

These words of faith are preserved in music. We hear them again today as the soloist sings: “I know that my redeemer liveth, and because he lives, I, too, shall live.” The great message of Easter is that Christ, the Redeemer, lives in the soul of each one who will have him. And because he lives, we, too, shall live.

What form our immortality takes is partly a mystery. It is obvious that we live in the lives of everyone we touch. It is obvious that having lived here in this world of mortal existence we are forever a part of its being. Nothing can change that. Eternity is now as well as past and future. But eternity is much more than time. It is being. Therefore let each day be crowded not alone with minutes, but with meaning.

Howard Thurman watched a man for a long time. The man was so busily engaged in his task that he did not see Thurman approaching until he spoke. Then the old fellow raised himself erect with all the dignity of a man who has long since exhausted the cup of haste. He was full of years; 81 of them. He was also full of something beside years. He was engaged in planting a small grove of pecan trees. The trees were tiny things. It would take many years of growing before they could be expected to produce their first crop of nuts. Thurman’s curiosity was unbounded.

“Why do you not select larger trees to plant, so as to increase the possibility of your living to see them bear at least one crop of nuts?” The old fellow finally said, “These trees are cheaper and I have very little money.” “So you do not expect to live to see the trees reach sufficient maturity to bear fruit?” “No, but is that important? All my life I have eaten fruit from trees that I did not plant. Why should I not plant trees to bear fruit for those who may enjoy them long after I am gone? Besides, the man who plants just because he will reap the harvest has no faith in life.”

The years may pass. And the old man’s words persist with a truth. “Besides, the man who plants just because he will reap the harvest has no faith in life.” No man gathers merely the crop that he himself has planted. There is another dimension of the brotherhood of man.

This is the Easter season; this is the day of resurrection. This is the day for looking ahead! It is a time for growing!

A week ago today, there appeared in the Milwaukee Journal an article about a woman who was an active part of University life in Madison at the turn of the century. Gertrude Slaughter apparently had a keen mind and a vital interest in living. She was involved in not a few of the community battles of her time, and appears to have lived with zest. Yet she has written a book, published posthumously, under the title Only The Past Is Ours. “We mortals,” she wrote, “possess no future; it is always just out of reach. The present vanishes as we touch it. Only the past is ours.” With all due respect to the philosophy of a fine lady, and realizing that one has little right to judge the content of a book by its title alone or by a single reference from it, I want to suggest the converse, and to say, “The Future is Ours.” The past we can not change. We grapple with the present as it is. But the future holds so much of hope! I think that this is the message of the resurrection!

It is easy for us to come to Easter day in the same frame of mind that we come to the story-book wedding in which the prince and the princess are married and so live happily ever after. Jesus Christ is risen and he reigns forever, King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Profoundly true! But that is not the end of the story. It is its beginning!

This morning I asked that the Scripture be read not from the 20th chapter of John with its narration of events on the first day of the week. I recommend that each of us should read it on this and every Easter Day. But I wanted to read also the next chapter of John --- the 21st. According to John, the disciples had already learned of Jesus’ resurrection. They had heard of it from the women; they knew that Peter and John, racing to the garden, had reported the tomb empty; they had sensed the Lord’s presence with them in a closed room so vividly that even doubting Thomas was convinced. It was great! It was wonderful!

So ------ what next?

As a matter of fact, they did not know what to do next. They knew of the risen Lord; they had his call to high service. Yet it seemed that day after day crept by and nothing happened. They just waited. Finally Peter’s patience gave out and he made a decision. Probably he had watched the familiar scene as the boats put out on the big lake for the fishing grounds. Several of the disciples had been fishermen. They knew the feel of the ropes, the laying of the nets, the roll of the boat. Peter blurted out: “I’m off to fish.” It may have been a wise move. Better to be about a familiar task than to dawdle in idle waiting. So other disciples joined Peter, and out they went to fish all night. But their luck was poor, and their skills were rusty. They caught nothing all night.

At daybreak, a voice called from the nearby shore: “Children, have you any fish?” “No,” they answered. “Cast the net on the other side of the boat and you will find some.” So they did. And (wouldn’t you know it) the net surrounded so many fish that they couldn’t pull it in! John took another look toward shore. Then, to Peter, he said, “It is the Lord!” Big, impulsive Peter, just jumped into the water and made for shore as fast as he could, leaving the rest to get the boat, the net, and the catch of fish in to the beach as best they might.

As the gospel writer tells it, the scene was quite matter-of-fact. Jesus had a charcoal fire going. He said, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” And presently there was bread laid out, and fish all cooked for them. Jesus said, “Come and have breakfast.” The writer says that no one ventured to ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord!

And so they ate. And when they had finished, Jesus spoke to Simon Peter. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than all these others?” “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” “Well then, feed my lambs.” Apparently that wasn’t enough. For Jesus said a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” “Then, tend my sheep.” Even that wasn’t enough. For Jesus said to Peter a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was a bit grieved to be asked the same question so many times. “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” And once again Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.” [John 21: 1-17].

In a few hours now the time for Easter is going to be past. We will have sung, “Christ the Lord is Risen,” will have rejoiced in the festivity, and will have gone home to our eating, our fishing, our lessons, our selling, our figuring, our baking, our bridge or golf, our sawing and our sewing. But Jesus has not just risen and flown off to a distant kind of heaven. He is calling us to take food. He is asking us to be about his business. There are lambs to be fed and sheep to be tended and wolves to be fended off and souls to be sought. There are churches to be gathered, and houses of worship to be erected; there are homes to be established and good friendships to be formed; there are great causes to be supported; there is justice and fair play to be proclaimed. There are people to be rescued and fed. There may be crosses to be borne, and there is goodness to proclaim.

It is said that an angel told those who looked at the empty tomb; “He is risen, he is not here.” [Luke 24: 6]. Can not every one of his faithful now say, yes, “he is risen; he is here.” He is right where we live --- right where we eat and work and play. And he has work for us to do. Let us be about it. For work is bright with hope, when it is his work!

Next week, Don and Sue Minnick will begin work in a parish that is new to them. I hope that the people of Mukwanago and their pastor will find themselves so surely led by the risen Christ that their work will be sheer joy and that we here shall all be glad that we have known and shared with them in preparation for the next step!

This week, we here in Wisconsin Rapids expect to begin the steps that shall undergird the building of a new church home. Let it be but the housing for a church that is truly a gathered company of Christ’s people, seeking to work that which is well pleasing in his sight! I hope that it will be so fine and so truly a church that every one of us (Don and Sue too) will be glad that we have had a part in it. For we live not in the past except for what the past can teach us.

It is the future that is ours! It is ours by right of hope. It is ours by right of immortality. It is ours by right of Christ’s resurrection. Let us live it -- every day of it -- with gratitude; with dedication; with assurance that we are not alone. Let the risen, living Christ make us perfect in every good work to do his will.

Amen.

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, March 29, 1964. (Easter)

Also at Waioli Church, March 30, 1975.