Catch

The first time Peter saw the bounty of fish (Lk 5:8), his immediate reaction was to recoil from the Lord and say, “depart from me, Lord, I am a sinful man.” That was the time they had been running on empty, fishing all night, and the boat was put to better use by the Lord as a platform on which to preach to the crowds. When the Lord asked him to put out for deep water, to let out their nets for another try, the veteran fisher in him must have thought twice and doubted. When he eventually conceded and saw the plenty, he was seized with fear: You Lord would have nothing to do with me. I am not worthy to be in your company. 

This time, after Calvary, with the Lord taken from them, it was different. After putting out for shallow water (“for they were not far from shore, only about a hundred yards”), and working the sea the whole night, they hear a stranger on the shore at daybreak asking if they had caught anything. When they are prodded to cast their nets once more for another try, they are still clueless until of course the bounty catches them off balance.

Now this is why Peter is Peter: when he saw (deja vu) the prodigal catch, he could have replayed the script: you Lord are better off without me; I promised you I’d stand up and fight for you, but when the going got rough, I ran away from you; I disowned you. He could have rewound the tape to say: I no longer deserve to be called your apostle. Treat me as if you never met me. 

But Peter doesn’t replay or rewind the past. When he recognizes the Lord he has loved and missed, it is not fear or shame that seizes him. It is joy. When the Lord appears on the shore, he knows it is not to judge or punish him. When the Lord takes the first move to call out to them, Peter knows it is to forgive them. And so he frantically puts on more clothes, abandons the catch, jumps into the water (clothes and all), and swims toward the Lord.

The Lord must have smiled to see all this frenzied splashing at sea. The man was a sinker the last time he tried walking on waves. The Lord chided him then, but now the Lord must have been moved to see the love of this fisherman bobbing up and down in the water.

This endearing portrait of Peter catches all that is glorious about Easter. It is through Easter eyes that we see the Lord’s abiding presence in and through the waves of emptiness and abundance in our lives. It is the presence of the risen Christ, no longer just in our memory, but in our “liberty, understanding, and entire will,” that gives us hope. And it is hope that gathers our resolve to cast our efforts again “over the other side,” to find another way and try again. 

When we put our nets out upon the Lord’s bidding, we realize that the abundance is gift, and that the emptiness (like evening) is not forever.

As our nation moves toward a change in leadership this May, we may be tempted to lose heart because of the little we can show for all our trying to change things for the better. When we look at Basilan and the mayhem in Mindanao, the scandals hurting the priesthood and Catholic faith, the exodus of our talent for better shores abroad, or even the straining we must do to keep our relationships above water, we may be tempted to think that the Lord has abandoned us to our ways. We may rewind the script to say our sinfulness overwhelms us and we are no longer worthy.

Or we may listen to the Man on the shore asking if we have caught anything through the night. We can answer in a blind and stoic way, denying we are empty. Or we can let this Easter season be a truthful time, humbling enough for us to see how we can still be found wanting and empty.

If he should tell us to cast our nets over the other side, we can protest politely and doubt. Or we can let this season deepen our faith until we learn to surrender to his bidding.

We can replay the regret and harp on the emptiness, or we can let this season open our eyes to the abundance that will be found even in shallow water. Such is the abundance that still surrounds us: the goodness of family; our compassion for the small and weak; our natural musicality, wit, and creativity; our heroic willingness to do sacrifice in the midst of poverty; and our enduring faith in God’s infinite love and mercy.

With eyes thus opened, we may look to Peter, and be heartened by the faith and hope and love of this man, bobbing up and down in the waves, treading water for dear life, swimming for the Lord.

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Fr. Jose Ramon T. Villarin SJ is President of Xavier University, Ateneo de Cagayan. For feedback on this column, email [email protected]