Rev. Tara Barber
The Community Church of Sebastopol
February 8, 2004
Luke 5:1-11
“Let’s go fishing,” my dad said. Wow. I had never been fishing before. Immediately I pictured the large salmon I would catch. Enough to feed my family of six, and then some. So, we gathered poles and hooks, went to the hardware store that had everything, including a huge table of fishing lures. I wanted a glittery one, or maybe one with a feather. “Worms are all we’ll need,” my dad said. If nothing else, fishing is an exercise in hope and imagination.
So my dad, brother and I hiked out on the jetty, cast until our lines went out into the water, and then we waited. Waited and watched for something, anything, to happen. I think maybe God knows something about waiting. As the rocks grew even more pointed and hard, as the sun became more intense, we waited and watched. Hoping for something to happen.
All of a sudden my pole moved a bit. Quickly I drew up the line. Nothing. I mean nothing. No bait, no nothing. Another worm was sacrificed for the cause, and I cast out again.
Fishing is a little luck, a little technique, and a whole lot of perseverance. This time I was determined. Somebody was down there – eating my bait. Now if I could only catch that fish. After what seemed like hours, darn if my pole didn’t start to move again. I jerked it a little, and it jerked back. “Dad, dad, I think I have caught something.” “Help!!”
Together we reeled in the line. Anxiously, I awaited the big fish. The big, beautiful salmon. I hoped I liked salmon. Suddenly, I caught a glimmer of something moving. It was my fish!! My dad pulled it out of the water, and there it was – the ugliest fish I had ever seen in my whole life. I mean, it was ugly. Big bulging eyes, funny wide-spread, spiky fins. And it was pinkish-orange. Ugly. Really ugly. “What kind of fish is that, Dad?” “Well, I’m not quite sure.” My dad didn’t even know the name of this fish! “It’s a great fish, though, isn’t it?” I wasn’t so sure.
If it hadn’t been my first fish ever, I would have been tempted to throw this one back. Who could be proud of such a strange looking fish? God, maybe. Well, all right, God who created even this fish; loved even this funny looking fish.
And that’s where we go. We talk about the catch. We tell fish stories, and judge our success based on what was caught. I know that it wasn’t the waiting for the fish to bite that made the difference. It really wasn’t even the thrill and uncertainty of making the catch. And it certainly wasn’t the fish that I caught – though it was an amazing fish. And at nine years old, I am sure I didn’t know about my call, or much about what it meant to follow Jesus. It was simply a fishing trip.
They were fishermen. They had spent the whole night fishing, and caught nothing. They knew about hope and disappointment, about waiting and discernment, and about the messy, uncertain business of fishing. Discouraged, they sat cleaning their nets on the shore. Then Jesus comes up and asks to be let out on their boat. They were probably reluctant to go back out there, after a night of catching nothing.
Did they even hear the words he preached to those who sat on the shore? Did they hear the hope and passion, the belief and vision of this man – this holy, mesmerizing man? And what did they think when he told them to cast their nets out again, one more time? Did they feel a spark of hope – or were they just humoring him? Can you hear the conversation they had – out in the deep end? The fishermen were probably thinking to themselves, “it’ll never work. We tried all night, we already tried that, and it didn’t work.” Or maybe, they thought, “we’ve never done it that way before. I’m not sure I want to risk trying it his way.”
Well, Simon Peter and Andrew let those nets out, and amazingly, caught more fish than they could bring in by themselves. Big fish, small fish, ugly fish. An abundance of fish. Oh, Simon’s guilt after recognizing his sinfulness, his lack of faith, was real. You know this guy. He’s also called Peter. He’s the one who later denied knowing Jesus when the questions were asked. Over and over again, he struggled with faith, fear, and doubt. Interesting that he’s the one who helps found the church. Anyway, he had taken the chance, flung his nets wide, and witnessed a miracle. It would be enough to bring anyone to their knees. After a haul like that, I’m sure they were excited about fishing again. A catch like that could inspire anyone to be a fisherman.
But the great catch was not the point. Jesus didn’t want to inspire them to keep fishing for fish. Jesus was hoping to inspire them to catch a glimpse of something greater. A God who provides an abundance. A God in whom we can hope. A God who gets messy with us, who helps us discern, a God whose net of love works miracles, and catches everyone. A God who hooks and calls each of us. We have all been caught and released. Caught in a loving embrace, and released to go fishing.
And that miracle happened out where the water was deep. Out from the shore, where exhaustion and failure were turned around by God’s amazing presence, made real in an abundance of fish. Out in the deep, where Simon Peter’s unbelief was transformed into faith.
“Let’s go fishing,” Jesus says. Let’s catch people. What? Not me. I’m no fisherman. It’s too boring, too messy, too dangerous, too uncertain. I am sure that Jesus only meant that those who have the particular gifts, the specific skills of fishermen should indeed be called to fish. Maybe only those who are brave or foolish enough to risk letting go can hear Jesus’ words.
Nope. Jesus invited everyone he met to fish in one way or another. The Bible is full of the most unlikely characters being called by God. Called out of the deep water, having glimpsed God’s abundance. Called to bring in the miracle, with the help of companions, community. Called to keep walking and from now on, to catch people. To show people God’s love and care.
When Annie was out in the deep end, grieving the life ripped from her husband, through the ravages of leukemia, she had an idea. Her friend Chris had an even more bold idea. They let down their nets – and their shirts – to make a calendar to raise money for a new sofa in the family lounge at the local hospital. The Calendar Girls did what they did best – just without attire. Their calendar was a huge success. Annie received piles of letters. Letters written by others who had lost a loved one to cancer. So, she decided to answer every letter. While the other calendar girls were caught up in the crowds of fans, Annie offered herself to others, and caught people. Others were focused on the catch of money and fame. Out of the deep end, Annie’s pain was transformed, and she began to catch people.
Barbara Brown Taylor says that when we hear this passage, instead of focusing on transformation, we tend to focus on our choices, and decisions. She writes: “Most people hear (this story) and right away start worrying about whether they have what it takes to be a disciple…What we may have lost along the way is a full sense of the power of God – to recruit people who have made terrible choices; to invade the most hapless lives and fill them with light; to sneak up on people who are thinking about lunch, not God, and smack them up side the head with glory…
Can you hear it? This is no story about the power of human beings to change their lives, to leave everything behind and follow. This is a story about the power of God – to walk right up to a quartet of fishermen and work a miracle, creating faith where there was no faith, creating disciples where there were none just a moment before. This is not a story about us. This is a story about God, and about God’s ability not only to call us but also to create us as people who are able to follow …in that God drenched moment of their turning to follow, the miracle occurred: their lives flowed in the same direction as God’s life. Their wills were not two, three, or four, but one will. Time was fulfilled. The kingdom came – and comes – every time our own lives are brought into the same flow, so that we too allow ourselves to fall in love, and follow God, and can do no other…”
There’s no magic formula. No guaranteed way to make our lives flow with God. But this story gives us a plan to follow – and follow – and follow. Shall we review?
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Let Jesus get into your boat.
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Listen to what he has to say. (God is still speaking!)
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Then, take some risks. Go out where it’s deep.
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Fling your nets wide. See the miracle.
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Gather your community to help bring in the catch.
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Be honest enough to recognize your sinfulness.
And by that I mean, to admit when you are separated, dis-connected from God.
Share God’s abundance – and then, keep walking. From now on you will catch people.
Barbara Brown Taylor concludes, “Belonging to God is not a matter of going limp in God’s arms, after all. We are called to love, to serve, to heal, to forgive. We are called to imitate Christ and to make choices that resemble his…” Let’s go. God is here, and the kingdom is coming. May we make it be so.