The Fifth Sunday after
the Epiphany, February 4, 2007. 5C-2007 (RCL)
Gone Fishing
Isaiah 6:1-13, Psalm 138, Corinthians
[15:1-11], Luke [5:1-11]
The Rev. Robert B. Wood, St. Aidan’s Episcopal Church, Alpharetta,
Georgia
Many cultural norms from Biblical times
are unfamiliar to us now, making it a little more difficult to
understand what Jesus might have been teaching. Now, for example, in
the US, there are not many shepherds. Traffic does not stop for herds
of sheep being led through city center—though that can still happen in
Ireland or Turkey. Since we don’t have first hand experience, we
really have to use our imagination to understand Psalm 23—the Lord is
my shepherd—who leads me to still waters, whose rod and staff comfort
me. The rod and staff are for wacking the sheep—keeping them in line.
The tax-collector is another one. We
know the IRS, the automatic withholdings from paychecks, and the extra
price we pay at the pump. No one comes to our door like in Jesus’
day—or in the time of Robin Hood—demanding the taxes due—and often
squeezing out a bit more for his own pockets.
But when it comes to fishing—now there
is an image we understand easily. Particularly if you lived in Maine
or Massachusetts, where whole communities are dedicated to fishing or
lobestering. They know about boats and nets—and days of good catches
and bad—when all their work has nothing to show for it.
The closest I ever got to fishing like
James and John might have experienced it was in Ecuador in the small
fishing village of Esmereldas. We were down by the shore—late
afternoon—cooling off after a day’s work. Some men of the village
were beginning their second shift—pushing off in their boats, and they
asked if I wanted to ride along.
Stepping into that boat was like
stepping into a time-machine. There was nothing industrial about
anything I saw. It was a primitive, hand-carved boat without a keel.
The nets were home-made too, and the long, wooden oar they handed me
to use was ten times as heavy as any canoe paddle or row-boat oar I’d
ever lifted. That day, I saw just how difficult fishing for a living
can be. Fishing for a living. Fishing as vocation. That’s our image
for today. Not recreational fishing—like most of us are used to.
Recreational fishing comes when we can
get away...when we have extra time…more than a spoonful of
patience…and a little know-how with bait-and-tackle. Besides
equipment, time, and patience, there’s another challenging part of
fishing: the fish. Fish don’t just swim to shore and turn themselves
in or jump in the boat and smile up at you. The last time I checked,
people are pretty tricky to “catch” too, so what in the world does
Jesus mean by saying, “do not be afraid, from now on you will be
catching people”?
That’s the call…with a capital “C”…the
instruction to James, John, Peter, to Aidan and to us. Your vocation
is now fishing for people. Start hauling them in! Which begs the
question: Are we, the people sitting here today fish? or are we
fishing? Or ask it this way: When you come in to church on Sundays,
are you fish in a net? or fishermen in the bait and tackle
shop…getting a little more of what you need to live out your vocation?
Maybe some of you are fish, not that you
just sort of jumped in the boat, but that you’ve swum up close to get
a closer look and check out the bait…or more accurately to find some
food that’s really more meaningful, more healthy, that the world’s
plastic worms.
Maybe you’re here for the first or
second time, or maybe you’ve been here for a year…just swimming and
waiting until the time is right. Maybe you were lured here by a child
who you wanted to get into Sunday school…or a new year’s resolution to
go to church more. And somewhere in the back of your mind, in the
back of your heart, you WANT to get hooked. You want what you find
here to take you out of your old world…your old way of being… and into
a new world, a new way of life.
Or what about you who were really caught
in the nets of faith years ago? Who came up out of the water—and were
transformed by grace. Being saved in those nets is not the end of the
story. You turn, you transform—you learn to cast, to get back out on
the water, and haul in other fish. Priests and deacons are not the
only ones with fishing licenses! Ordination is not the time of
licensing. Baptism is! And now you, in the line of Peter, James, and
John…of Paul and Timothy…of Aidan! You are called to take up your
vocation to catch people.
As good as it is to have some fish
swimming with us today, as happy as we are to notice a nibble or two
please remember there’s more to fishing that saying “Hello, I don’t
think we’ve met before” to somebody in the chair next to you or in
Sunday school. That type of fishing is important, don’t get me
wrong. Each and everyone of us should take notice of visitors, for to
miss a chance to say hello and to share something of this church and
yourself —maybe even your faith—is to fish with an empty hook…is to
daydream and forget to watch your bobber.
Yes, we have to do some intentional
fishing here at church, but fishing at church is also like fishing at
Andy’s Trout farm up in Dillard. You walk in, and there they all
are. You’re going to catch something… and in about three
seconds. Real fishing is out there in the deep seas of Alpharetta,
Milton, Roswell, Cherokee, and Forsyth. People say it takes a lot of
modern devices to fish those waters, like the internet, signs at
intersections, or trolling around town with cute little Episcopal
Church stickers on the back of our cars.
Those are good and important, and I hope
you all have one, but I still say the best way to fish is the old
fashioned way--nothing industrial needed as long as you have your
hands and your voice and your heart. It’s not recreational
fishing—it’s vocational. It’s relational fishing. Relational:
sharing the relationship you have with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Relational: loving your neighbor as yourself. As Christians, that
sharing is your vocation. So remember your fishing license and
remember, it does not expire.
And one last thing about fishing, before
I drag this analogy out too long. Some who fish
like to brag and tell stories and hang
trophies up on their walls, and I can understand that…some. They are
happy. They had success…a good day at sea. But truthfully, our kind
of fishing is not for bragging rights. It’s not even for our
benefit. It’s for the fish.
Our happiness, our joy, is primarily for
them, not for us. If they are hanging on anyone’s trophy wall, it’s
in God’s house…just like you are. So to God be the glory, and the
catch, and let’s go fishin’!
© The Rev. Robert B. Wood. All Rights
reserved.
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