where, on the shore, He had already assembled, as a table, prepared for expected guests, a charcoal fire, some fish laid out, and, being himself the bread, a loaf laid for good measure.
No need, of course, for the fish they brought. No need, either, for that excess in their boats. To feed seven mouths plus His, that net-bursting horn of plenty was, as old Judas, wilting, would have had them know, not quite au fait.
Yet fitting – that He who made Leviathan solely to frolic should choose to play with the resources of Galilee to make much of these staples, to invite, to delight, and in the olive branch of this table set in the presence of friends and enemies
to ask, as the mercy-cup overflowed in the background, Simon, do you love me?