After that tempest of the Lord's passion—unexperienced by the earth, dreadful to the heavens, unheard of by the ages, unbearable to the nether regions—the Lord came to the sea, and found His disciples tossing in the nocturnal darkness. For with the sun fleeing away, what could remain of the moon's splendour? what of the stars for a solace of the night? For there was one earth and a confounded gloom, which blinded not only the sight of the body, but the very gaze of the mind: nor did it allow the sailors to seek, or to seek again, the shore of faith, the harbour of salvation. 'When morning was now come,' says the evangelist, 'Jesus stood on the shore; yet the disciples knew not that it was Jesus' (John 21).
The whole creation had fled from the wrong done to its Creator: the world strove to avoid the death of its Lord, knowing that vengeance extends to the whole house in which the Master has been slain by the crime of the servants. Hence it is that the earth, its foundations deserting it, trembled; the sun fled away lest it should see, the day departed lest it should be present, the rocks—which by nature could not withdraw—are split by a new wound, accusing the crime only by their sound, because by voice they could not; hell, when it saw the Judge Himself penetrate to it, was conquered, and wailing, lost those whom it held; hence it is that the souls, restored to their bodies, announced to the living that the dead would rise again, whom the world had thought to have utterly perished.
Therefore, while the whole frame of the world was thus tossing about with its order thrown into confusion, and believed itself to have been plunged back into primeval darkness and ancient chaos by the death of its own Author, suddenly, by the light of His resurrection, the Lord brings back the day, and reforms the whole world back into its former body; so that Him, whom He had seen to suffer with Himself in such a manner, He might raise up together with Himself unto His glory, as the evangelist says: 'When morning had now come'—that is, the night of the Lord's Passion being past—'Jesus stood on the shore.'
This He did in order to recall all things to their ancient bounds, to strengthen the doubtful, to restrain the storm-tossed, to compose the troubled, and by His own standing-place to steady the very foundations of the world, which had been so shaken; that the world, which had fled away to the injury of its Author, might soon run back to the obedience of its Author. 'And when morning had come, Jesus stood on the shore'—that above all He might lead back the Church, in which the disciples were then being tossed by the waves of the sea, to the faithful station of her faith. And then, because He found them destitute of the strength of faith, and discovered them cast down from their manly vigour, He rebukes such men by calling them children, when He says: 'Children, have you any fish to eat?' For there was Peter, who had denied Him (Matt. 26); Thomas, who had doubted (John 20);
and John, who had fled (Mark 14). Therefore He addresses them not as most valiant soldiers, but as children, that is, as timid ones; and those whom He had not yet found fit for battle, He invites as tender ones to the table, saying: 'Children, have you any fish to eat?'—that He might recall their humanity to grace, their bread to confidence, their food back to faith; for they would not believe that His body had risen, unless they beheld Him eating with the full order of a man. Hence it is that He who is the very fullness of all things asks for food: the Bread Himself eats, because He never hungers for food, but always for the love of His own. 'Children, have you any fish to eat?' They answered Him, 'No.' And what could they have, who did not yet have Christ set beside them, who did not yet see with their own eyes the Lord standing before them?
'For the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. He says to them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and you shall find.' He recalls to the right hand those whom the whirlwind of the Passion had driven and pushed back to the left. 'They cast it,' He says, 'and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes.' They had cast on the right, they had cast on the manly side, but being still as children they had not the strength to draw it: yet from the very weight they perceived, they perceived that the fishes had come at the command of Him who ordered it, and had not fallen into a capture of human skill. 'But that disciple whom Jesus loved said: It is the Lord.' He who loves is first to see, because the eye of love ever gazes more keenly, and he who loves ever perceives more vividly. When Peter heard it,
What was it that had so slowed the mind of Peter, that he heard of the Lord from another, he who had been accustomed to announce Him to the rest? Where is that singular utterance of his own? 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God' (Matt. 16)—where is it? He had fled away into the house of Caiaphas, prince of the Jews, and he was slower to see his Lord, who had readily heard the whispering voice of a maidservant (Matt. 26). 'When he heard,' he says, 'that it was the Lord, he girded his tunic about him, for he was naked' (John 21:7). A wonder, brethren! When the Lord was seized, John cast off his linen cloth, and Peter was found naked: because flight covered John, but denial thus stripped Peter bare. A wonder, brethren, and truly a wonder, that he who was stripped naked in the ship, plunges into the sea clothed (Matt. 14):
because innocence is never naked, and guilt ever flees back to a covering. In short, just as Adam (Gen. 3), so now also Peter, after his fault, is eager to cover his nakedness—the two who, before their fault, were assuredly clothed in holy nakedness. 'He girded his tunic about him, and cast himself into the sea'—that the sea might wash away what his denial had so defiled. 'He cast himself into the sea'—that he might be first in returning, who had received the primacy in rank. 'And he girded his tunic about him'—he who was to be girded by the suffering of martyrdom, as the Lord says: 'Another shall gird thee, and lead thee whither thou wouldst not' (John 21).
'But the other disciples came in the boat—for they were not far from the land, but as it were two hundred cubits off—dragging the net of fishes.' The others arrive in the boat, and drag the catch of fishes, that they might lead to the Lord, with themselves by faithful labour, the Church of the age tossed by tempests, and those whom by the evangelical net they snatch up to the light above and lift out of the deep. 'They were not,' He says, 'far from the land.' They were not far from the land of the living, whom the end of things present had already made near to things to come. 'But as it were two hundred cubits off.' From the Jews and the Gentiles He doubles the number of a hundred, He who joins together the life and salvation of two peoples. The remaining part of the reading we will treat, with the Lord's help, in the following sermon.