We know how the big fish stories work. As we talk about our magical experience out on the water, the catch gets larger, the danger gets more deadly--"The thing almost pulled me into the water with it!" And the singular fish becomes larger and larger as a way of conveying not only our skill but that we experienced the epic, maybe even good fortune, or to say, "God was with us." Regardless of catch, fishing stories are often re-told when the nets come up empty or with a small haul. We exaggerate when times were good.
Calvin Coolidge used to go fishing in the cold, clear streams of
Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Once he was asked how many trout there
were in his favorite creek, and he replied, ‘about 45,000. I haven't caught
them all yet,
but I've intimidated
them.’ Fishing lends itself to such stories.”[1]
It
was the great English writer G. K. Chesterton who said, “exaggeration is the
definition of art.”[2] And
that is what the gospels are, a form of art, a poetic, rather than a literal,
historical accounting of what happened. They were written for
meaning rather than historical accuracy.
Today we are witness to one of those big fish stories from the
gospels. Jesus has been out and about, preaching and teaching in the
local Galilean faith communities. He expels demons and heals the
sick. When the crowds try to make him stay, he shares that he has to
continue his barnstorming tour proclaiming the good news of the community to those
decimated and traumatized by the system.
They now gathered to find life around Jesus—he helps them to imagine
life beyond day to day survival. Jesus calls
this ragtag Beloved Community the Empire of God. He heads south on
his barnstorming tour to Judea. When he returns north to the
homeland, he comes upon Lake Gennesaret. It is not the first
time he has met Simon, the fisherman. Earlier, Jesus has healed
Simon’s mother. This will not be the first time Simon sees the
miraculous happen in and through this guy.
Jesus expects and assumes spirituality. The air is
thick with it. The earth is abundant with it.
Fisherfolk should have no reason to expect the activity of God
in their midst. For the Roman politician philosopher Cicero says,
“And the most shameful occupations are those which cater to our sensual
pleasures: fish-sellers, butchers, cooks, poultry-raisers, and fishermen.”[3] The
fishing occupation required certain work habits that lent toward its shameful
reputation. Peter and his lot would fish
naked, their bodies smelling like fish.
They would fish at night because there was no way to keep fish fresh in
the daytime sun. Fish were then sold in the morning and eaten that
day. Being away from home and family at night contributed to the low
honor status of fisherfolk. Even more so, in Rome’s extractive and
exploitative economy, taxes would have left the vast majority of fisherfolk
leasing boats and nets, most of their profits siphoned off with only the very
wealthy able to afford a regular diet of fish.[4] When
these smelly, night workers, left their boats and nets to follow Jesus, to be
his disciples, they also left that extractive and exploitative economy.
Jesus
calls these low-lifes, these people from a dishonorable profession, and assumes
their spirituality, assumes God’s activity in their lives. Simon
protests. “Go away from me, for I am a sinful man.” He
believes his life’s vocation, his dishonor, must be a result of his
sinfulness. As I have shared in a previous sermon, too often
Christian teaching is focused on sin and forgiveness because Jewish prophets
had told the people that their sin of violence and injustice would lead them
back into slavery, occupation, and oppression. They were to rightly
fear God and God’s judgment. So conversely, many people saw the
suffering in the status quo as something they or their ancestors must have done.
Their low status was a signpost of their sin.
Jesus will have none of it. Do not
fear. I’m about to teach you to fish differently.
And
Jesus isn’t interested in doing this as a miracle for miracle’s
sake. He is foreshadowing. He says to those strapped to
this economy there is a new way of fishing that yields abundance. But you have to leave your wading and do some
underwater diving into the deep. Jesus is not in the entertainment
business. He is in the discipleship business. The old
tools of the trade are left for a way and a path that is vastly different.
This
is the last time Simon, James, and John will fish in this way, the old
way. Jesus is asking them to think differently about what it means
to fish and to re-imagine who the fish might be. As people of faith,
Simon seems to believe that they must keep fishing in the same shallow waters
and trust that one day God will fill their nets. Jesus sends them
out to the deep, where it is riskier and a little bit more murky. Jesus asks them to begin thinking who the
fish are now, what are the nets.[5]
Sisters and brothers, siblings and cousins, is this not the
challenge we face in each age: to constantly re-learn who the fish
are now and what are the nets? But that is so hard,
right? Even if we know that the way we are now doing it just leads
nowhere. At least we know the old way. We know the
repetitive, grinding down of our souls, the lack of energy and life where we
just assume we are strapped to our past, defined by the wider culture, and not
worthy of God’s activity. And Jesus steps through all that, assumes
that you and you and you are places where abundance can be found, that there is
a spiritual depth to you. Jesus says, “Fear not. Go deep.
Follow me.”
Unfortunately, in the present day, our big fish story has been
transformed into a “get people into the church story” where we can put the fish
in the same barrel and club them into the sameness of
submission. The boat, so often a symbol for the church to
later be founded upon Simon “The Rock”, is not meant to be hugging the shore,
safe in harbor, like the church so often does, clutching for safety, often
performing maintenance tasks, wringing our hands over the nets when the deep
calls. Christ wants us out in the deep where his message and life
can be seen in the great world.
We get often caught on bended knee, declaring our sinfulness,
when Jesus doesn’t seem to be preoccupied with our personal sin like we
are. Jesus assumes we are spiritual
beings called to deep discipleship. God does not spend time
inventorying our past. There is too much work to be
done.
With that wisdom, that is my question for all of you, not
worrying or being anxious about your past, our personal sin or our past: What are the deep places to which God is
calling to us? Maybe full of risk? Maybe a little
murky? Maybe places of chaos and a little unsafe? I want
to give you a minute to think about that. Please do that thinking
about where you yourself are called. But also, where are we as a
church called to the deep? If Jesus assumes that God is already at
work to create our own big fish story, where, with whom, and how might that
be? How does that happen? Take a minute to think about it
and then I’ll ask you for your reflections.
Who or what are the fish we are trying to pull in? What nets are we using or do we need to use?
(Pause to ask)
We are called to the deep because Jesus always assumes that God
is active in your life even when you feel like your nets are
empty. Jesus assumes your own spirituality and calls you individual,
and us, as a community to discipleship.
Who cares about your stinky b.o. or your night time reputation. You.
We. Are called. To the deep. Praise
God. Amen
[1] Grant Gallup, “Epiphany 5C,” Homily Grits, https://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/homilygrits/msg00007.html.
[2] Gilbert Keith Chesterton, The Collected Works of G. K.
Chesterton, Vol. 15: Chesterton on Dickens (San Francisco: Ignatius
Press), p. 48.
[3] KC Hanson, “The Galileean Fishing Economy and the Jesus
Tradition,” Biblical Theology Bulletin 27 (1997) 99-111,
Quoting Cicero, On Duties 1.42, http://www.kchanson.com/ARTICLES/fishing.html.
[4]
Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh, Social Science
Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis, Augsburg Fortress,
2003), p. 353.
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