On Putting Out into Deep Water
Sermon for Sunday, February 7, 2010 (Year C, Epiphany 5)
[Jesus] got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. (Luke 5:3)
The vignette which provides this morning’s gospel reading is Luke’s version of the call of Simon Peter, James and John. All four gospels agree that these three became disciples early in Jesus’ ministry, but they disagree on the details. St. John says that Andrew encountered Jesus at or near the place where John the Baptist was working, and then brought his brother Simon Peter to the Lord. St. Mark and St. Matthew say that Jesus called Peter and Andrew as he walked along the shore of the Sea of Galilee (also known in scripture as the Lake of Gennesaret or Tiberias or Chinnereth), and then called the sons of Zebedee. Luke also places this incident along the lakeshore, but his account is more elaborate. This story also tells us how Luke’s community — and by extension, you and I — are likely to encounter the Lord.
We should note here that Jesus and Simon Peter probably knew — or knew of — each other before Jesus called him as a disciple. Galilee is not a large place, and for 700 years before our Lord’s time the population of Galilee had been heavily Gentile. The Jewish minority was almost certainly a close-knit community in which two tradesmen, a carpenter and a fisherman, would frequently cross paths. That means Jesus is no stranger when he begins his Galilean ministry. In fact, his rejection at Nazareth is due, at least in part, to the fact that people know him so well and are unable to accept him in a new role. Moreover, Luke reports that shortly before today’s incident Jesus had cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a fever. I assume, then, that Simon Peter at least knows Jesus’ reputation as a wonderworker, and the two may have been well acquainted.
That may explain why Simon Peter so readily agrees to let his boat be used as a teaching platform. It is morning, Jesus is teaching at the lakeshore, and the people crowd in on him so heavily that they are about to push him into the water. Meanwhile, Simon and his fellow fishermen have worked all night without anything to show for it and are now washing their nets. Weary, they probably want to go home and get some rest. I don’t suppose that Simon and his colleagues are overjoyed when Jesus indicates that he wants to use Simon’s boat. Had it been someone else, some stranger, Simon might have declined. But how can he say no to Jesus, who had so recently healed his mother-in-law? Simon and his business partners James and John put out onto the lake again.
After teaching awhile, Jesus says to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” (Luke 5:4) Now, the Simon Peter we meet in the Bible is an emotionally reactive and impulsive personality. This morning he is tired. He has just now finished washing the nets. And this carpenter Jesus doesn’t know the first thing about fishing. So I suspect Simon is not enthusiastic. I hear a grudging tone as he says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” (Luke 5:5)
As Luke tells us, the catch is so great that Simon must get the help of James and John to avoid breaking his nets. Even then the quantity of fish is so great that the catch threatens to sink the boats. Overwhelmed by this miracle — indeed, feeling at risk in the presence of such unexpected power — Simon pleads with Jesus to just go away and leave him alone. (Luke 5:8) James and John are equally amazed. Jesus reassures them all, saying, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” (Luke 5:10) For Simon, James and John this is a life-changing experience. A few minutes earlier they were mere fishermen. Now they are disciples.
We could chalk this up as another gee-whiz miracle story. However, we have to remember that the gospels are faith statements. They speak not just to the problem of having faith, but to the more vexing problem of what to do with the faith you have! Luke’s community experienced their resurrected Lord as a living spiritual reality who made claims on their lives. When they said, “I believe,” it invited the question, “Now what?” That same question has confronted every generation of Christians, including our own. So what does Luke’s story of the calling of the first disciples tell us?
The first thing this story tells us is that Jesus is very inconvenient! Remember that Simon Peter and friends have just finished a long, fruitless night of backbreaking work when Jesus wanders by. The last thing they need is more hours in the boat and more casting their nets. I’m surprised Peter doesn’t tell Jesus (quite literally) to go jump in the lake! Likewise, you and I are busy people. We have family, work, school, and community responsibilities. We’re also Christians, so we have spiritual responsibilities as well — prayers to say, services to attend, and meetings to keep our programs running and our roof from falling in. And then along comes Jesus! — Mr. Inconvenient — asking for just a bit more of our time, talent, treasure, energy, creativity, and commitment. “I have something else for you to do,” the Lord says to us, as if we need something else on top of everything else. But then, if Jesus waited until we had a free moment, he might wait a very long time.
In other words, it is the nature of Christ’s work to be an imposition upon our spiritual and material resources. His ways are not our ways, and his work is not what we, left to our own devices, would probably choose to do. Peter and his colleagues already had full lives; they didn’t need this. But our Lord needed them. And our Lord needs us.
Second, Jesus tells us to put out into deep water. As he instructs Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” The fishermen most likely want to stay near shore, but that’s not Jesus’ plan for them, or for us. Our Lord invites us to go where the risk is likely to be greater, but where the rewards may also be greater.
There’s a story, probably apocryphal, which speaks to this point. A young boy kept falling out of bed every night. Soon after his parents were asleep there would be a “thud” and much crying, and his parents would have to console him and put him back to bed. And then, awhile later, there would be another “thud” as the process repeated itself. His parents were at a loss on how to keep their son in bed all night. Then the boy’s uncle came to visit. That night, like all nights, there was a “thud” and the young man was on the floor again. The next morning his uncle asked him why he kept falling out of bed. The boy thought for awhile, and then said, “I don’t know. Maybe I stay too close to where I got in.”
The same is true for us. We want to remain close to shore, because we know the risks and we’re comfortable there. To put out into deep water — to go places and do things that are unfamiliar or seem risky — can be a real challenge, but it can also bring rewards beyond our imagining. For example, I think many of us expected St. John’s to call a new priest who was in many ways rather like Fr. Henry, only a bit younger. That would have been an altogether understandable decision, a safe, close-to-shore choice. But St. John’s put out into the deep water, let down our nets, and hauled in someone who does not fit the familiar, comfortable image of what a Rector should look or sound like. In much the same way, each of us must, at least from time to time, put out into deep water. If we always stay close to where we got in, the result will be just that predictable “thud” in the middle of the night.
Finally, few things can be as intimidating as God’s blessings. When Simon Peter and his friends hauled in the net, they were overwhelmed with the catch. Luke’s community knew what that was like, for in just a few short years after the resurrection, the Christian Church had spread from one end of the Mediterranean Sea to the other and was starting to expand into every corner of the world. As Paul reminded the Corinthians, “I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received….” (1 Cor. 15:3) They, in turn, handed on that faith in Christ to others. The resulting growth of the Church during the Apostolic period seems to us the greatest of blessings. However, I wonder if Luke’s community felt entirely blessed to have new converts showing up week after week — a relentless flow of new people with new ideas and new needs, to which the existing church members had to respond. Was their boat at risk of sinking under the weight of the catch?
Most Episcopal congregations pray that God will bless them with new members, but we usually do so without realizing how disconcerting growth can be. You may imagine, for example, that St. John’s could add another 100 people worshiping on a Sunday, and the only change would be more people sitting in the Nave and more dollars in the offering plate. Aside from that, we tell ourselves, St. John’s would be just the way it is now. But people who study evangelism and church growth disagree. In fact, they tell us that growth always changes a congregation, often in ways that long-time members find disturbing. Just as in Luke’s time, new members arrive with new ideas and new needs to which the existing congregation must respond.
Another story: New York City has always seen sudden, significant shifts in population among the boroughs, because New York is where so many immigrants wash ashore. I’ve heard a number of delightful stories about Episcopal priests tending small, down-on-their-luck churches — clergy happily snoozing their way toward retirement — who suddenly find their neighborhoods awash in new arrivals from the Caribbean. These new Americans, being 10th and 12th generation Anglicans, naturally head for the nearest Anglican (that is, Episcopal) church — and Fr. Snooze becomes Fr. Frantic! In short, adding 50 or 100 new members is about the most disruptive thing you can do to a congregation. All those fish may swamp your boat!
So, here we are — stuck with our inconvenient Lord who sometimes asks us to put out into deep water, and sometimes requires that we haul in an overwhelming catch of blessings. That’s life in the Church! We have to remember that God has a long-standing habit of making burdensome, and sometimes even perfectly outrageous demands on those who love him. God did so to Abraham and Sarah… to the prophet Isaiah… to the Blessed Virgin Mary… and to Simon Peter, James, John, Mary Magdalene, and the other disciples. God did so to Paul of Tarsus. And God has has been just as inconvenient and demanding to Christians of every stripe and color, in every age, by inviting them to become “fishers of people.”
So why should the Lord treat us any differently? Amen.
— The Rev. John E. Laycock, Interim Pastor
Readings for Year C, Epiphany 5: Lesson — Isaiah 6:1-13 • Gradual — Psalm 138 • Epistle — 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 • Gospel — Luke 5:1-11
Collect for Epiphany 5:
Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.