Epiphany 5 February 7, 2010

Epiphany 5
February 7, 2010

Today Luke’s Gospel is a fish story meant to catch you and me!

It takes place along the shore of the Sea of Genesseret otherwise known as the Sea of Galilee, is a fisherman’s paradise.
Commercial fishermen still fish the waters, as Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, and John and his brother John, did 2000 years ago.
It’s a long, deep, freshwater lake, really, rather than a sea, and it still teems with fish just as it did in Simon Peter’s day. Catches of 600 pounds are not uncommon.
And yet you fishermen know how crazy fishing can be. One day you can’t keep them off your hook and the next day—not a bite.

Poor Simon Peter! He’s worked hard all night and caught exactly zero fish.
It’s a tough life, being a commercial fisherman: constant worry about money, risking disaster every single night.
Now to cap it off, this unknown teacher Jesus shows up out of the blue and commandeers his boat. Simon goes along, but really just wants the crowd—and Jesus—to go away.
But Jesus doesn’t go away. Instead he tells Simon, “Go out into the deep waters.” Fed up, Simon answers, “But we’ve just spent the whole night fishing” with the subtext—“we are fishermen, you are just a preacher, go away.”
But Peter finally gives in and against his better judgment picks up his nets, and rows out to the deep water with Jesus in the boat.
He dips in his net----and suddenly the problem shifts from “not enough” to “way too much”!
Flopping fish everywhere, too many to count.
Peter falls on his knees, hides his face from Jesus’ smiling face looking down at him, and cries out—“Go away! This is too much for me. I’m no saint. I’m just a regular guy.”

That’s it! That’s the whole point! Jesus didn’t choose Simon Peter to be his disciple because Peter was in any way at all extraordinary. Exactly the opposite—Jesus chose Peter because he was so completely a “regular guy.”
Look at his “regular guy” credentials: He worked for a living.
He had good days and bad days—presumably they balanced out, but Jesus showed up on a particularly bad day.
He had regular emotions. He lost his temper when Jesus, this carpenter from up north, presumed to tell him how to do his job.
And finally he had enough sense to be bowled over by the miracle of all those fish. He knew God was somehow right there in the boat. And he didn’t know what to do.

For the past few weeks, Joan Bowers has been guiding a small group of us in what’s called “group spiritual direction.”
Here’s how it works: We sit around the table in the CLC in silence, loosening ourselves from the busy-nesses of our day—all those buzzy thoughts about phone calls not made, e-mails not returned, those unwashed dishes at home—we just let them drift.
Then one person takes ten minutes or so to talk about something that’s bothering or concerning him or her, something weighing on them in their daily lives.
After they finish speaking we don’t start talking right away. We go back into silence.
Then for five minutes or so we ask the person questions. The point of these questions isn’t to fix the situation. It’s to provide an opportunity for the person to see more deeply into what is happening. We don’t always use “God” language, but we assume that God working with and calling to that person even in the hardest, most painful situations.

The situations we’ve been bringing to the group the past few weeks haven’t been questions about prayer or about the doctrines of our faith.
No—instead they’ve been gritty, practical, daily issues about family, friends, and work. They arose for us “regular” people in the course of our “regular” lives.
The process is amazing—When I presented, I brought up a painful problem involving a friend. During the question time I was bowled over by the hidden facets, the depths, the insights, revealed by the group’s responses. I had a clearer sense of what I am “called” by God to do in this situation.
At the end of my time, I felt a little like Simon Peter when he realized just who it was smiling down at him as he knelt down in awe in the fishy swill at the bottom of his boat.

That day on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus called Simon Peter and the others to be his disciples. And that’s how it works even today: he calls us regular people to be his disciples right in the middle of the events of our regular lives.
Sometimes the call is to leave those lives behind—as those Galilean fishermen did—and make a radical change—to go do mission work far away, or to seminary, or a monastery.
But most often God calls us to be disciples right where we are, with our families, friends, and communities.
But what does it mean, that odd word, ‘disciple’?
We don’t use it much in ordinary life. But here’s a simple definition: “disciples are people who live the Gospel in their ordinary lives so clearly that the people who come in contact with them can hear it and see it.” Again: “Disciples are people—regular people like you and me—who live the Gospel in their ordinary lives so clearly, so transparently, that people who come in contact with them can hear it and see it.”1
How will they know? What will they see? Here are some of the visible qualities of a disciple life: Kindness, patience. Care for the poor and the sick and the lonely. A passion for justice. Love for the unlovable.
Jesus casts his nets and draws us in: “Come, follow me,” Jesus says to us as he said to those fishermen so long ago, “come, follow me.”

1paraphrased Mary Hinkle