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Sermon preached by the Reverend Patrick T. Gray at
The Church of the Advent,
Sunday, January 27, 2008 My father wasn’t much of a fisherman, so I guess it’s not much of a surprise that I’m not, either. My dad grew up on the South Side of Chicago, where I’m assuming not much fishing occurred. I grew up in the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware, and although the options may have been more plentiful for me than my dad, neither of us were particularly motivated to take advantage of them. We must have had fishing rods somewhere in our house, though, because, despite our lack of motivation, I have a memory of my dad taking me down to the Brandywine River to fish when I was about six or seven. The details are sort of vague in my memory, but I do remember that probably what kept us from making the effort to fish in the first place, happened. Which means nothing happened. We didn’t catch any fish. I’m sure my father put the worm on the hook for me, and I probably had a pretty good time throwing the bait into the water, and letting it float around for awhile. I’m sure it was nice just to be with my dad. But it didn’t take long for us to move on to something else. For whatever reason, my dad had gotten up the gumption to take his boy fishing, and even if I was motivated, even if I was the one who begged my father to go fishing, it didn’t take much to move me on to something else. Because to go fishing meant you caught fish, that seemed like the fun part to me. And to not catch fish is to not have much fun. And although I’ve seen movies like A River Runs Through It, and know that fishing can be this incredible experience for some people, even if they don’t catch anything, that’s not me. Who knows, maybe my son will break this non-fishing cycle in my family, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. My dad never saw the light on this one, I haven’t, either, and chances are, neither will my son see the light. Now our Gospel lesson this morning is obviously about fishing, but it’s about other things, too. It’s about seeing the light, or perhaps more appropriately, seeing the light in the midst of darkness. Matthew’s Gospel agrees with the other Gospels, that Jesus did not begin to announce the Kingdom of heaven, the Kingdom of God, Jesus did not begin to announce the Kingdom until the one who had prepared for the coming of the Kingdom had been put in prison. There must have been something about John the Baptist being put in prison that motivated Jesus. That the powers of darkness had reached its height, and Jesus could wait no longer. It was time for the light to shine in the darkness.(1) St. Matthew tells us that once Jesus had heard of John’s imprisonment, that he left Nazareth and established his base at Capernaum, St. Matthew stressing that Capernaum was by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that Jesus was clearly the one fulfilling what the prophet Isaiah said about Zebulun and Naphtali. Now if you remember your Old Testament, the old tribal lands of Zebulun and Naphtali were the first portions of Israelite territory that were swallowed up by the Midianites in the 8 th century B.C. Zebulun and Naphtali fell before the rest of Israel did by a good ten years. Eventually, all of Israel was subjugated, but the first territories to feel God’s wrath, as it were, was Zebulun and Naphtali. But according to the prophet Isaiah, the first to fall would also be the first to receive the news, the good news, that a child has been born for us, a son given to us; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. (9:6) Those who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined. (9:2) So according to St. Matthew, it wasn’t accidental that Jesus chose Capernaum. It was a fulfillment of what God had promised. That salvation would come, and it would come to those who first fell. What God had promised, was now reaching its fulfillment.(2) But what Matthew also makes clear is not only where Jesus went, but what he left behind. Matthew tells us that Jesus went to Capernaum from Nazareth, his hometown. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, but he grew up in Nazareth. Maybe you were like me, and couldn’t wait to get out of your hometown, but you just didn’t do that in ancient times. Family was more than people you called on holidays; the family in biblical times was the means of your engagement with society, with life in general. It was your security, and most likely, your livelihood. And Jesus left those behind. Jesus may have known that his call was to be a light to the world, but he immediately began to feel the cost of that call, by simply leaving behind all that helped give definition to his life in this world. And Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Now if that sounds familiar, it is, because it was the very same message that John the Baptist had been preaching. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Jesus simply picked up what John the Baptist had already said. The difference, however, is that the kingdom of heaven is no longer “at hand,” meaning that it is near, it is coming, it is nigh. The difference was the kingdom now actually had hands, if you will. And feet, and a face. John spoke of another, Jesus spoke of himself. He was the one to manifest the words he spoke, that John spoke. But if you remember, Jesus was alone now. Jesus had left family behind, probably his job behind, to establish this new kingdom. And the very first thing he did, according to St. Matthew, was to call followers. Jesus left one community behind in order to form a new community, the people of God’s kingdom. And he found two sets of brothers – Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, and James and John, the sons of Zebedee. They were all fishermen who worked along the Sea of Galilee, and Jesus found them, and apparently called both sets of brothers in much the same way – “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” And Matthew makes it clear that both sets of brothers immediately left their nets, their boats, and for James and John, even their father Zebedee, and followed him. Now we have to remember that these brothers didn’t have a lot to go on. This was before any of Jesus’ rather remarkable healings. This was before Jesus had done much of anything, other than say “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” and “Follow me, for I will make you fishers of men.” Now I suppose it’s possible that these two sets of brothers were just waiting for someone to come along and offer them something, anything to escape their boring, humdrum lives. Fishing day after day, and maybe the fishing wasn’t so good. Maybe they needed another job simply to survive, so they were willing to give anything a shot. “Fishers of men? Sure, why not? It can’t be any worse than what we’re doing now.” I suppose these things are possible, but not likely. Fishing was a decent living, if not a very good living, given what we’ve learned about the fishing industry along the Sea of Galilee. And as to whether they were tired of what they were doing, whether they were looking for something more challenging, our modern-day understanding of boredom was not a category that the ancients really worked from. Being a fisherman wasn’t just a job, it was identity. It was exactly like all those things that Jesus left behind in Nazareth. It was their life. And they left their life behind to be a part of something new, a new life, without knowing where it would lead.(3) So why did they do it? If it wasn’t poverty, if it wasn’t boredom, why would they do it? Well, I don’t think there’s any easy answer, although I do think the answer is, in fact, easy. It’s what Isaiah said, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” And it was Jesus. It’s as easy as that. But I don’t think it meant he had some sort of glow about him, that he shined like he did at his transfiguration. That’s next week, not this week. But there was light, there was life, and these brothers gave up everything to follow the light shining in darkness, they chose to follow the path the light illuminates.(4) And we know what the disciples found out, that this strange proclamation, this strange invitation, got a bit stranger. This king of the world was crucified, died and rose from the dead. And the message of this strange king created a new family out of nothing, a family who exist because of the light, and whose purpose is to shine that light, to shine that light into a dark world. But I would venture to guess that many of us barely feel like a flicker of light at times, if not most of the time. Our wattage is rather limited. But if you have children, my guess is you have a night light in their room, because children don’t like darkness. And all you need is just a little bit of light, and you can see, you can see. So if we want to be followers of Jesus, we have to be lights to dark places. That’s clear. But it doesn’t take much, to start being a light. A little wattage goes a long way. Just ask any kid who doesn’t like the dark. And isn’t the world dark enough? As a famous theologian once said, the question is not why is the world so dark, the question is, where’s the light? Where’s the light? So go to the dark places in our world, in our communities, and chances are, if we show up, there will be a little more light than there was before. Let us follow the light, let us follow the path this light illuminates, and it’s a path that’s dark up ahead. It’s dark because there’s no light, so we need to walk into it, we need to walk into it, and bring the light of Christ into a darkened world. And we can count on one thing – Jesus will be with us. He will be with us, and he will even teach us how to fish. He said he would. Amen. (1) N. T. Wright, Twelve Months of Sundays: Reflections on Bible Readings, Year A ( London: SPCK, 2001), 22. (2) F. Dean Leuking, The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts: The Gospels ( Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), 23. |