Before we departed to our separate purposes, we decided to meet again in this same room a week later. Our mandate was clear. We would organize and make plans to do exactly what our Lord had asked of us. This time we were joined by Thomas, who was not with us when Jesus first appeared to us. Thomas remained unconvinced. When we told him that the Lord had appeared to us, he responded with, "Unless I can see the nail marks . . . no, unless I can put my finger on the spot where the nails were driven into his hands . . . unless I can touch the wound in his side, I cannot believe he has come back. I cannot believe he is alive!"

So when we met again, Jesus came and stood among us just as he had done before. The doors were locked, just as before. No one could enter the door unless it were broken down, or opened by one of us. But Jesus didn't "enter"; he just appeared. He just materialized among us, as if easily, effortlessly moving from one dimension to another. He greeted us with the same words, "Be at peace, my brothers!" Here he was again, and we were just as overcome with his presence and excited as we had been the week before. Thomas sat alone and afraid, his eyes wide with apprehension. He didn't know what to do or how to react. Jesus walked over to where he sat. "Thomas," he beckoned gently, "come. Touch me, my friend. Put your finger here. See the wounds in my hands? It is good, my brother. Reach out your hand and touch the wound in my side." Thomas was hesitant, afraid. "Come, dear friend, and do not hold back. Do not be afraid to believe." Thomas started to reach out his hand and then stopped. He fell to his knees, tears flowing from his eyes. From his lips came these whispered words, "My Lord and my God!"

Then Jesus told him, "You have seen me, Thomas, and you have believed. But there are those who now live and those yet to come who will never see me, yet they believe. I say this not to shame you but to encourage them."

Once we reached Galilee, not unexpectedly, Peter wanted to resume his fishing trade. He persuaded Thomas, Nathanael (both non-fishermen), James, John, and two others to join him. Some of the others, including myself, decided to tag along. The moonless sky was brilliant with stars. Lights from nearby Capharnaum glowed softly. So we went out and got into the boat and spent the night dragging the nets. Bone weary and sweat-soaked, for all of our labor, we had caught nothing.

By morning we lay about the deck and against the gunnels, exhausted. We were anchored only about a hundred yards from shore, sail reefed, boat floating in the smooth glass of becalmed water. I noticed a man standing there watching us. He hailed us with the words, "Hello, out there. How's your luck? Have you caught anything?" When fishing, how many times had we all heard these words? It was the universal question asked of fishermen everywhere.

"No, not this time," Peter shouted back. I remained silent. I was much too tired to be sociable.

My interest awakened, however, when the man on the shore said, "There is a large school of fish on the other side of your boat. Throw your net there." Peter stared intensely at the man. No doubt his thoughts were wandering back a few months, or was it years ago? He remembered the time when the Lord told them to cast out into deeper water. As these thoughts made their way through our collective brain, our movements became mechanical, driven by a force beyond our comprehension. Without question or hesitation, we did what we were told.

Immediately we felt bumps and pulls against the nets. They began to strain. We felt not only the weight but the thudding of the fish as they struggled to escape the net. We were unable to haul it in. It was too full of fish. Then John said what we all already knew, "It is the Lord!" Like the rest of us, Peter did not need to be told this. As soon as the words broke the air, he removed his outer garment, tied it around his waist and jumped into the water.

Peter was still Peter, still bumping his head. A strong swimmer, the fisherman knew full well that clothing would be difficult to manage in water. Perhaps he thought he wouldn't need to swim. Perhaps he thought he could try walking on water again. There was no storm; this time maybe he wouldn't sink. Who knows what Peter thought?

The rest of us weighed anchor and sensibly followed in the boat; some of us were calm enough to remember the dragging net still full of wriggling fish. We were glad it was not far to shore. Where the prow of our boat brushed against the sand of the shoreline, there was a fire of burning coals with fish already on it. Several loaves of bread lay nearby. Jesus said, "Bring some of the fish you have just caught, so there will be enough for all of us." Bull of a man that he is, Simon Peter climbed aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of sizable fish, but even with so many the net was not torn. Then Jesus, as though a dead man now alive happened every day, said, "Come on, let's have breakfast. I'm starved!" Was he always hungry like this? Is that what dying and coming back to life does to a man? Rubbing his hands together, he said with obvious pleasure, "There's nothing like broiled fish on an open fire on a crisp spring morning."

Weary from a night of fruitless net dragging and mouths watering, we didn't argue the point. He took the bread and served each one of us and then did the same with the fish. James remarked, "We have no wine."

After a moment's hesitation I said, "But there is a whole lake full of water here." All eyes turned toward Jesus. He took a morsel of cooked fish and flashed a mischievous smiled. It was good.