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Calendar of Events
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February 4, 2007 (Amanda Hatfield preaching) And the rest is history. And don’t we love these kinds of stories? We always like to know how it all began, where strangers who will become friends first meet, whether first impressions are laughably ridiculous or sure portents of the future. We like to know how quests and journeys are set in motion. Margaret Atwood says, ‘Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, the lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.’ It’s hard to know when a phase in our life truly begins, and so we enjoy stories that can spell such things out for us. This is the beginning for the first disciples of Jesus. The moment that changed everything. Can you hear the background music picking up? Now we’re rolling. Now, things are starting to happen. And isn’t it fun to know exactly what is going to happen? For us, the gospel story is transparently free of suspense. We can stand here at the very beginning and with no trouble see clear through to the end. I had a preaching professor at seminary who said, ‘never try to make your congregation surprised at what happens in a text. They know how it goes.’ Luke’s version of how the first disciples were called is different from how the story is told in Matthew and Mark—those two accounts being almost exactly the same. For one, Luke places the event much later in Jesus’ ministry than the other two. In Matthew and Mark Jesus calls his disciples while he is still a wandering minister about whom much more is rumored than known. But in Luke Jesus does not begin to gather disciples until he has become well-established. By the time he meets up with Simon and the rest at the Sea of Galilee, he is famous. He is famous enough that it is not as hard to understand why men would leave everything and follow him without question. Second, Jesus never asks the men to follow him. This is a striking difference from the dialogue in Matthew and Mark. In Matthew chapter four what Jesus says is this: ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ The wording is exactly the same in the first chapter of mark. But from Luke we heard these words: ‘Do not be afraid, from now on you will be catching people.’ Today’s text has a close similarity to another fishing story in the gospel of John. This comes from John chapter twenty-one: ‘Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, ‘Children, you have no fish, have you?’ They answered him, ‘No.’ He said to them, ‘Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.’ So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’ With the John text there is one important distinction we must make—this is a post-resurrection story, in other words the end of the story and not the beginning. Some commentators believe that the text in Luke is also supposed to be a post-resurrection appearance, and that Simon’s exclamation, ‘Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ is a reference to his repeated denial of Jesus the night of the betrayal. However that may be, I still think there are some ideas to be pulled out of this text as it currently stands in Luke. I think that Luke’s version of the call of the first disciples is the one that most resembles the call that we modern disciples experience today. Let’s go back to the things that make the Luke story unique. First, Simon and James and John are not approached by a complete stranger. Just five verses before our text picks up Jesus has healed Simon’s mother in law of a fever. It is not clear whether the men have had any personal conversation with Jesus, but Simon at least has had some dealings with him. Also, though the fishermen may or may not know Jesus personally they certainly know of him, as Jesus’ ministry has already become well-established by the time he preaches ‘by the Galilean lake.’ Because Luke places the call relatively late in the story there are several interesting things the disciples did not get to experience personally. By the time these events of chapter five occur, Jesus has already been baptized, tempted in the wilderness, begun teaching in the synagogues of Galilee, been rejected at Nazareth, escaped a mob bent on killing him, cast out a demon in Capernaum, healed many people and become popular enough in the region that the people are quite upset when he prepares to leave town. In this context, the calling of the first disciples is Jesus’ response to a ministry that has grown past where it can be dealt with by one person. This is how it is for us, when we decide as children that we’re ready for the pastor’s class, when we decide again and again as adults just how seriously we are going to take our Christianity. We do not follow something we do not know—I think we may say that in the churches of today Jesus’ reputation is even more firmly established than it is at the beginning of Luke. We have listened, we have read, we have been taught and we have taught others of these sayings, these miracles, these events. We know plenty. However, like these almost-disciples, there is a lot we don’t know as well. The almost-disciples may have known Jesus by reputation, but they could not understand the full significance of what was happening to them. Nor could they know where the story would take them, or the course the rest of their lives would take. We may already know of the triumphal entry, the last supper, the betrayal, arrest, crucifixion, resurrection, mission that happened in the Bible, but we cannot know the individual ways in which we will be torn apart and created new by the implications of our faith. We cannot know what will happen to us. The Jesus we encounter in the Bible was never predictable, and Jesus who moves among us today is no different. So: like these blindsided fishermen, we think we know, but we still don’t know. Second, nobody asks us to do this crazy thing so many of us end up doing. We cannot have this experience of a voice and perhaps a smile and ‘Follow me.’ Like Simon, our decision to follow Jesus is a response to what we have come to believe about the nature of Christ and God and our place in God’s world and Christ’s ministry. When Simon and the others left everything behind on the lakeshore it was not because they were so impressed by a miraculous catch of fish. The miracle itself was not the point, it was that the miracle allowed them to catch a glimpse of Jesus’ true identity. It was not the fish so much as the sudden realization of being in the presence of holiness that made Simon cry out in a mixture of fear and shame. Having seen what they saw, and having come to the realizations that they did, there was no need for Jesus to ask them to follow him. They could conceive of no other choice. And when we can see so plainly God moving among us—bringing healing to our wounds, and peace to our troubled nights, comforting us in the form of friends and family members, when we realize all-too-clearly what and who it is that sustains us, protects us, gives direction to our steps and vision to our work—do we really need to be asked to follow? Jesus did not ask these fishers of fish to follow him, but he did speak to them. Not with a request or a command, but with a statement, maybe even an observation. ‘Do not be afraid, from now on you will be catching people.’ All Christians everywhere need to hear ‘do not be afraid.’ Of course we’re afraid. Suddenly we find ourselves hurled along by something we cannot control and we have no idea where we are going or who we will be by the time we arrive. It’s terrifying. What will be taken from us, what will we be forced to give up of our own accord, and which of those things is worse? What if we don’t get what we’ve always wanted? What if we fail? Jesus recognizes this fear—he does not deny its existence or its validity, but he would calm it. And we’ve finally arrived at the important part. ‘From now on you will be catching people.’ As I said, this is an observation, not a request. Jesus knows that whether they yet realize it these fishers will need new nets. In the twinkling of an eye, they have been fundamentally and irreversibly changed by their encounter with Jesus. Who knows when the fatal moment of beginning actually occurred. Perhaps Simon was suspecting something after his mother-in-law was healed. Perhaps they’d already heard some things whispered at the well. Perhaps it was when Simon takes Jesus out in his boat without question, or when he heard the teachings aimed at the people still on the shore. Maybe it was the miraculous net full of fish. Whatever really started the chain of events, all it took was one tiny moment of recognition. After that, nothing could ever be the same. ‘From now on’ means something new, and ‘from now on’ means forever. Our encounter with Jesus, however brief, however long ago, however ordinary-seeming, has already changed us past recognition and we will never again be what we were. We are on a new path; we are out to gain different things. We will need bigger nets. Let us pray. God who makes all things and all people new, we thank you for the transforming power of Jesus in our lives. Help us to live mindful of our changed priorities. In Jesus’ name, amen. From now on, you will be much the same as you were this morning. But not completely. Go in peace and know that you are God’s forever. Amanda Hatafield, Student Associate
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