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Third Sunday After the Epiphany, 23 January 2005 |
Matthew 4:12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. 13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, 14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: 15 "Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles-- 16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned." 17 From that time Jesus began to proclaim, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." 18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea-- for they were fishermen. 19 And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." 20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him. 21 As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. 22 Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. 23 Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. What do you do? I heard an interesting essay on the Public Radio show “All Things Considered” some time ago. It was written by a public school teacher, dreading his approaching High School class reunion. He feared the inevitable comparisons that these events bring, where people compare jobs, families, cars, anything in a desperate attempt to say, “I’m worth something to someone, or at least I’m worth more than you.” In the Broadway play “Rent” the Characters sing about the hours, minutes and seconds that make up a year and ask the question, “How do you measure the meaning of a life?” For many of us this question is serious, because our identities are so caught up in what we do. The way we dress, the cars we drive, the houses we buy may form a part of our identity, but ultimately when people ask us what we do, they are in some sense trying to get to know who we are. Some of us even bear the titles of what we do on name tags, “John Smith, Asst. Manager” or when I go to conferences, “Luke Bouman, Pastor.” To many, we are what we do. And while for some this is a source of pride, for others it is a definite source of depression and anxiety. I talk to plenty of folks, both casually and seriously, who are concerned about their vocation; who see it as a kind of trap. They followed their parents urging when they went to school and studied whatever they needed to be able to get a “good job” when they were done. The only problem is that their heart is not in their “good job.” Now that many companies are about as loyal to employees as free agents are to baseball teams, they question whether they have made the right choice. The world is too unpredictable and life is too short to spend it in a cubicle knowing that any day could be your last on the job. Behind this is the real question of our identity. Where DO we get it? Are we defined by what we do? If so, how can we be sure that what we do reflects who we are? It is no surprise to me that books like Rick Warren’s “Purpose Driven Life” are so popular. People are waking up everyday to the question, “what does my life add up to?” And most are thrilled when someone else can give them an answer. But for Peter and Andrew, James and John, the question may never have come, had they been left to themselves. Fishing was a physically demanding career, but at least in the ancient world it was lucrative, so long as the fish were plentiful. I’m sure that when they were mending nets and casting them over the fish in the water, none of these four soon-to-be disciples were contemplating the purpose of his life. Each was struggling to make it through the day, to catch enough fish to sell at market and have enough left over to make a meal that night. They were likely content with their identity as fishermen, and did not have time or inclination to question whether that was who they truly were, or what they were supposed to be doing. A strange new calling Then one day, Jesus comes walking along the lakeshore. He says simple words. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” It’s not much of a recruitment speech, and yet tucked inside are words that commanded and inspired enough faith in at least these four that they would leave boat and net, career and kin, and come to follow. What is it in what Jesus says that would turn them? Did he plug into some inner turmoil that Matthew and we who read his account have no access to? Did Jesus’ Messianic message stir the inner patriot in these Galilean fishermen so that they wanted to enlist in God’s new army? Did Jesus offer simply himself and his presence as enticement enough for them to follow? It could be any or all of the above. But I think there is also something more basic at work here, in these short words of Jesus, something about our identity and purpose as well as about God’s love and mission that we all need to attend to. We recognize Jesus’ call to these disciples, somewhat different than the story we heard last week in John’s version. Here we have fisher folk who are plying their trade when Jesus arrives at the Sea of Galilee after the arrest of John the Baptizer. Jesus’ call is easy to understand, “Follow me.” But with the call comes the surprising words, “and I will make you fish for people.” Jesus understands that Simon and Andrew, James and John know how to fish. They know how to cast the net broad across the water and pull in what is trapped beneath. They know how to keep the good and toss those that are not ready, not yet, for the net. They know how important it is to keep the nets strong and the boat near, and buoyant. They know fishing. Jesus means to call them to apply that knowledge to the task of caring for and collecting God’s community from among all the peoples of the earth. For us, this is welcome news because we too are called by Jesus to follow. Not all of us are fishers, though. In fact, most of us do not fish as a profession anymore, and those that do work a trade that is much altered from its first century cousin. Does Jesus also mean for us to fish for people? The answer is two fold, yes and no. If “us” means all of us together, Christians as a community, then we are called to “fish for people.” We are called to care for and collect God’s community from among the peoples of the earth, but not each of us, by ourselves, will do the fishing. God’s community is now flung far and wide in a diverse and complicated global landscape. We have a mission to reach out to people and places that are different from our surroundings, different from us. And those people are in need of more than just fishing, farming, and other ancient and honorable trades. The church reaches out using talents from the sciences, from the arts, from many different careers, so that one might become an “engineer for people” or a “trash collector for people” just as easily as “fishing for them.” We are called to use our talents and skills, but like the disciples we are called out of a world and a mindset where we use them for ourselves and our own enrichment. We now cooperate together to use them for the enrichment, for the nourishment, for the building up of others into our community in Christ. At this point we might all nod heads in agreement. But this calling is harder to do than it is to agree to. Our culture asks with increasing urgency, “what do I get out of this?” We are called to ask what we can give, what we can bring, to the mission of God to unite all people under the “kingdom” that Jesus so confidently proclaimed to be at hand. We are called to use our talents and skills for others. That is indeed the secret to finding place and purpose in life. It is, to some extent to know and use our talents and skills, but it is also to put them into service where they meet the world’s great need, and not simply our own desires. If you are living only for yourself, then your life is likely to be empty and devoid of meaning. If, on the other hand you have learned to live for others, then you might find joy, even though riches and prosperity elude you. Such is the call to the disciples; such is the call for us. The cost of discipleship What keeps us from following, even when we know the above, is the understanding that with a positive answer to Jesus’ call comes a cost. James and John pay that price when they break with social convention, leave Zebedee, their father minding the business, and follow Jesus. They not only let their family down, but they also walk away from what society expects them to do. They will no longer be able to share in both the burdens of the family business and the wealth and security of its success. They will not enjoy their father’s reputation and protection should they get into trouble, as eventually they do. They will not be there to care for their father in his old age. In short, they leave a lot behind to follow. I’m not always sure that I could do the same. There are also costs in the world’s eyes to following Jesus for us today, in fact, different costs for different people. Since many people are unwilling to pay these costs, many religious leaders have offered them ways in which it seems possible to follow Jesus without paying the costs. Ultimately this leaves us with luke-warm Christianity at best, which is no Christianity at all. It masks both the sacrifice, and the joy, in finding life’s purpose. It leaves us addicted to a pop Christianity that offers therapy rather than Jesus and his death and resurrection as the savior of the world. People come back, sometimes in great numbers, not to be fed for the “kingdom” but rather for another feel good fix that is no permanent replacement for the call of God. Jesus knows the cost because he lived it for us and with us. Jesus announces the kingdom come near because in him it is present offering us a chance to become more than the servants of ourselves, calling us to be the people that God created us to be. Jesus, God enfleshed, served the world’s great need by bringing wholeness not only to those who were sick and diseased, but also for fishers like Peter and Andrew, James and John; for pastors like me, and people like you. Jesus gives us that wholeness as he calls us to be who we are, and a whole lot more. It may not be that our identities change a whole lot from where we started. We may still be what we do. But those identities are now shaped by a greater identity: that of God’s community, dedicated to care for and collect for God people from our diverse and fractured world. We are no longer just what we do. We are, and perhaps always will be God’s people, known for our compassion and the creativity we employ in finding ways to use our gifts in God’s world, no matter the cost. In the musical from “Rent” we finally hear that love might indeed be a better way to measure a life. In the PBS audio essay, we hear from our public school teacher that he has devised a way to answer those people who want to measure his life by what he makes. “I make students think that Shakespeare can be both fun and interesting. I make students who never before could read and write marvel at their newfound abilities. I make young men eager to see how poetic words can affect a young woman, and I make young women adept at reading between the lines. I make young people love language and what they can accomplish with it. In short, I make a difference. Tell me again what it is that you make?” Make a difference, O people of God. Make a difference because you are called. Find your purpose in Jesus’ calling, for he is the one who made a true difference and changed our world forever. Follow him, and prepare your nets. It is time to do some fishing. Rev. Dr. Luke Bouman, Pastor
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