I was astonished that Sara Maitland (11 April) posed the question, “Who cares how many fish there were?”I care. I was delighted to discover that the flat I was missioned to in a very poor area of Manchester was numbered 153. We did experience humanity in all levels of need knocking on our door, but of course, like the fishermen, I didn’t count them. I reckon that St John would be rather miffed if we dismissed his inspired narrative as “not needed on board”.I could not agree more with Sara that there is great joy and cause for dancing when “while it is still dark” and “stooping to look in” the treasure cave of Scripture, we enter into the “narrative space” and discover our “Rabbouni!”Throughout my life in c