Loading...Luke 5:1-11
I planned to begin this homily with a good fishing joke. Trouble is, there aren’t any good fishing jokes. So here is a bad one.
Fellow was fishing. Guy walks up and says, "How's the fishing?"
Fellow says, "Fishin's fine."
Guy says, "How many you got?"
Fellow says, "None."
Guy says, "None? Thought you said the fishin's fine!"
Fellow says, "Fishin' is fine, catchin's bad!"
It was bad catchin’ and good catchin’ on the day Luke describes. The long hours finally paid off as so many fish were brought on the board that the boat began to sink. This haul redeemed long hours of work that had been fruitless throughout the night when lake fishing was usually the best. A long, hard night which ‘netted’ nothing (pardon the pun.)
Lutheran Pastor Steven Molin tells this fishing story:
I was about five years old, and my dad, who was a construction worker, had a job one summer in Park Rapids, Minnesota, and he brought me along. The deal was, he would work all day, while I sat in the truck, or threw dirt clods at the construction site, but we would go fishing every night. That was the highlight for me; fishing with my dad for five straight nights.
Well apparently I couldn’t wait, because the first afternoon, my dad looked down from the roof of the building he was working on, and saw me sitting on a bucket, fishing in a puddle in the parking lot. I’m sure it was great entertainment for all the workers on that site, and of course, over the years the story got better each time my dad told it.
But what I recall from my dad telling that story is that he got me to stop fishing in that puddle by explaining that there were no fish there. He didn’t criticize me for fishing in a parking lot. He didn’t humiliate me for casting my line into muddy water that was probably only five inches deep. He told me that there were no fish there, and that later that day, we would go to a place where there were fish. And that made total sense to a five-year-old boy; to only cast our lines in places where we knew there were fish.
From today’s’ Gospel: it must have been just after dawn on the shores of the Sea of Galilee when Jesus began to teach the crowds that had assembled. Early in the morning, miles away from the city, the people were searching for something that was missing in their lives; searching for acceptance, or love, or for a purpose for their lives. Whatever the people were looking for, they must have found it in Jesus’ words, so they followed him wherever he went, and listened to his teaching.
So Jesus was there on the shore, speaking to hurting folks just like you and me. And because the crowd was so large, and the people were pressing in on him, he jumped into Simon Peter’s boat. How bold of Jesus! Peter knew who Jesus was, but they were not yet friends, and you don’t just jump into a guy’s fishing boat – not then, not now! But Jesus needed that boat, so he got in and continued to preach.
When the sermon ended and the crowd began to disperse, Jesus said to Peter, Push out into deeper water and let’s fish!
Into Deeper water.
And Peter protests: I’ve been up all night and I haven’t caught a thing.
That’s the excuse Luke tells us about, but I wonder if Peter whined a bit more, saying:
-
The deeper water is colder.
• The deeper water has bigger waves.
• The deeper water is far from the security of shore.
• It is dangerous out there.
• (Let’s not forget the Episcopal whine: we’ve never fished there before!)
• And perhaps an unspoken excuse: Jesus, I don’t think I can take one more failure today. So let’s skip the deep water.
It is that last one which may be the real reason Peter wanted to avoid the deeper water.
You and I have been called into deeper water.
Some deeper water we encounter as individuals include:
- You get a promotion at work, but the job is a lot more difficult, and you’re not certain you can cut it. That’s deeper water.
- You get a part in a musical production and as you go through rehearsals it seems like everyone else sings or dances or acts better than you and you question your abilities. That’s deeper water.
- You’re involved in a relationship and it’s getting serious; maybe headed toward life-long commitment, and it scares you. That’s definitely deeper water.
Some deeper water we encounter as a diocese:
- What are people in our neighborhoods and the Commonwealth saying they need from the Church. In other words listening to what unchurched people say they are seeking rather than being sure we know what people are seeking is deeper water.
- Taking a long hard look at those things which have been life-giving in the past which must now be blessed and set aside is deeper water. Not only taking a long hard but then acting appropriately deeper water.
- Constantly listening for the voice of Christ who tells us what our parish and diocesan priorities must be about and letting nothing else replace the Lord’s voice, including nostalgia and purely parochial agendas, is very deep water.
Every time we make a change, take a step forward, move in a new direction, that’s deeper water. It’s always risky. It’s never a sure thing. And it’s when the excuses begin to fly.
Peter protests, and Jesus still tells Peter to cast out into deeper water because . . . THAT’S WHERE THE FISH ARE!
And Peter’s responds by asking for forgiveness for not understanding why Jesus wanted him to go to deeper water. (Steven Molin, quoted and adapted.)
Our diocesan community is called by Jesus to go into deeper water . . . because that’s where the fish are. And we seek these fish not because they are potential pledging units, but because we can become stronger servants of the Lord by learning from and inviting more servants to join our mission of loving God with our whole being and our neighbors the same way.
The justifications as to why we should remain near the shore are familiar and strong and not without some merit, for as the Gospel lesson tells us, there will always be work to do on and near the shore. But there is also a bountiful harvest of good work to be engaged in deeper water.
St. Luke says the catch of fish caused the boat to begin to sink. Luke does not describe a rich fish, or a poor fish, not a red fish or a blue fish (that applies to politics as well as certain university sports allegiance) nor is one fish more important than another fish. No fish are discarded, and no fish are described as trophies that are especially desirous.
That is not surprising – because God sees us all the same. We are beloved daughters and sons, made royalty – his children – in baptism, forgiven by grace, and sent on a holy mission. Phillip entering into relationship with an Ethiopian seeker, and Peter are models for all baptized people, models for those about to be baptized.
Head to deeper water, where both the fishin’ and the catchin’ are fine. Forsake the parking lot puddles. Baptism means – go where the fish are.
