From Denis:
After his resurrection from the dead, Jesus met with his disciples intentionally so they could be certain he was alive. One meeting occurred at dawn on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias. The evening before, Simon Peter had determined to go fishing, and the others said they’d go with him. “They went out and got into the boat,” St John records, “but that night they caught nothing” [21:3]. It would have been a tiring task, throwing out the net, drawing it back in, moving the boat, throwing it out again, drawing it in. A long, tiring, repetitive night of nothing.
“Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach,” [21:4], and suddenly the intensity of the narrative picks up. He calls to them, asking, “you have no fish, do you?” [21:5], and they admit their failure. He tells them to throw the net on the other side of the boat, and “now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish” [21:6]. St John was apparently the first to catch on: “It is the Lord!” [21:7], he said.
They hauled in the huge catch and went ashore to see “a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread… Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them and did the same with the fish” [21:13]. The risen Lord Christ cooked and served them breakfast.
As I’ve spent time seeking to live into this story, as the quest for wisdom dictates, I have found it endlessly fascinating, replete with multiple layers of meaning. The primary one I want to emphasize in this first post about cooking is this: In preparing and serving breakfast, our Lord forever sanctified the act of cooking for hungry people. So, do we want to be like Jesus? Then cook food and serve it.
I have a supposition, completely unfounded, about his story. Normally I disdain such leaps of fantasy, but this one is mine, and I’m fond of it. This breakfast occurs near the end of Jesus’ time on earth, at the end of his earthly ministry before he ascends to his Father in glory. Remember back to the very beginning of his earthly ministry, when Satan temps him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread” [Matthew 4:3]. Jesus declines, insisting there is more life-giving sustenance in God’s Word. Now, here’s my leap of fancy. Since that’s how his ministry on earth begins, what if, now on the beach at the end of his ministry, Jesus lines up some stones, and with a disdainful look in Satan’s direction, commands them to become loaves of bread that nourishes his disciples? What a sweet way to bring the narrative of Christ’s life full circle.
OK. Let’s get back to what the text actually says.
The novelist, David James Duncan has a keen insight into this story. An avid fishing enthusiast himself, he points out that one detail points to real authenticity. “Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred and fifty-three of them” [21:11]. Notice, they didn’t record the catch as “huge,” or as “100+,” but as “a hundred and fifty-three.” The precision in counting, Duncan says, is a mark of historical authenticity, a detail that tells us these were true fishermen. As the King James version translates it, “an hundred and fifty and three.”
I grew up in a world where cooking was either subtly or blatantly denigrated. It was “women’s work,” even though the misogynists that claimed this would admit, under pressure, that many of the best chefs in the world were male. In the fundamentalist sect in which I was raised, cooking was not a truly “spiritual” activity, like witnessing or Bible study, and so was considered somehow less pleasing to God. At best, cooking was deemed merely a means to an end: we had to eat, and so had to cook. Grandmothers were the best cooks because they were old, unable to engage in more spiritual activities, and had time on their hands.
In preparing breakfast on the beach for his hungry friends, our Lord demonstrates how we as his followers must see cooking in a renewed light. It is a holy act, and nothing less.
During this breakfast, the disciples also are provided with insight into Jesus’s resurrection power and glory. He knows they’ve caught no fish. He tells them where to throw their net for massive harvest. Though their catch is enormous, their net remains intact. And he serves them breakfast. This last is equally a revelation of Jesus as Lord. In this he met their need for food, and a bit of rest after a tiresome night. And in doing so, adorned with glory their humanness as persons created in God’s image.
I repeat: In preparing and serving breakfast, our Lord forever sanctified the act of cooking for hungry people.
From Margie:
This breakfast dish for a special day is easy, economical and, impressive. It makes a wonderful gift to drop by a friend who could use some extra comfort or help.
Caramel French Toast
1/2 cup melted butter
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
English muffin bread (fits perfectly in a 9 x 13-inch pan)
6 eggs
1½ cups milk
½ tsp salt
Melt the butter directly in the pan. Rotate so butter spreads around.
Add brown sugar and cinnamon to the pan and stir it into the butter.
Place two slices of bread on top of one another. Repeat until the whole bottom is covered with stacks of bread.
In a bowl whisk together eggs, milk, and salt. Pour over bread.
Refrigerate overnight. (In a pinch, a couple hours will do if you rise early.)
Bake at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes, or until the top is puffed up and the edges are brown and crispy. You can also check doneness by inserting a knife in the middle to see if it has set.
Optional: Serve with maple syrup.
[This Place, p. 157]
[P.S. For more—many more—recipes, look in Margie’s Place Trilogy, of which This Place is the third volume, which can be ordered from Hearts and Minds Book Store]
Photo credit: Photo by Ben Khatry (https://www.pexels.com/photo/fisherman-casting-his-net-on-the-river-at-dusk-17213805/)
