Journey's Weekly Homilies

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C 
February 8th, 2004
Homily by Joe 

Isaiah 6:1-8
1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Luke 5:1-11 

In my current service on jury duty I regularly see defendants being led to arraignment through the halls of the courthouse in handcuffs and leg irons; these are people on whom the full force of the legal process has fallen. When I see them I count myself lucky that only the full tedium of the legal process has fallen on me. Several weeks ago we were all immobilized, if not plunged into darkness and cold, by the snow and ice storm that hit the region. A reasonable reaction to situations or events like these would be feelings of helplessness, frustration, rage and even terror. 

These are the sorts of things I imagine the participants in the events in tonight’s readings must have felt: Simon confronted with that large catch of fish, Isaiah’s vision of the angel with the glowing coal, Paul at Jesus’ appearance to him on the road to Damascus. Simon especially shows that he is mystified and frightened; this reminder of his insignificance translates to an examination of conscience: “what must I have done to deserve this?” But Isaiah, Paul and Simon Peter eventually emerge from their ordeals with a new sense of purpose. 

The story that Luke tells us of Jesus calling his first disciples is not that much different from the accounts in Mark and Matthew.  In all three Jesus attracts fishermen away from their livelihoods with a promise that they will “fish for human beings.” The words are so familiar that we flatter ourselves that we know exactly what they mean. It’s all about gathering people into the church, isn’t it? In Washington DC I even remember a storefront church called “The Fisherman of Men Church.”  

But this is where Luke raises a few questions, at least for me. In situating the call of the disciples in the context of a miraculously large catch, the gospel does two things. It emphasizes just how much they are asked to leave behind. At least in terms of commercial fishing, they’ve just won the lottery. But the sheer volume of the catch also serves to emphasize that fish are just a commodity, a source of livelihood. Unlike sisters and brothers in a fellowship, unlike even sheep in a flock, fish were gathered, in those pre-refrigeration days, to be slaughtered at once, either for immediate consumption or to be salted for later use. 

In this light, “fishing for human beings” takes on a distinctly predatory connotation. Comparisons to that science fiction film wherein a book titled “To Serve Man,” is revealed to be a cookbook, or even to Charlie the Tuna spring to mind. If I suspect that I’m allowing the Jesus of the Gospel of John to cloud my perception I have only to recall that Jesus is offering to teach his disciples to do what he’s doing at the moment. They are fish for his nets just we’ve all been fish for the nets of their successors down through the centuries.  

Not only that, Jesus invites his hearers to be caught as he himself has been caught: caught  up in a passionate yearning for the Reign of God. In this he stands in the tradition of Jeremiah: “God’s word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.” Paul says, elsewhere in his first letter to the Corinthians, that he is “compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!” 

These three know what it is to be consumed by a cause, a purpose, a force larger and more powerful than themselves. We are all destined to be consumed in one way or another, after all, but we don’t have to go like the fish in Simon’s nets.  

Douglas Adams, the marvelous author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, told this story on numerous occasions: 

Imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, “This is an interesting world I find myself in – an interesting hole I find myself in – fits me rather neatly, doesn’t it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!” This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it’s still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything’s going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise. I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for. 

Our “consumedness” (consumption doesn’t seem like the right word, somehow) doesn’t have to be a surprise or a frustrating inevitability. Rather than spend our lives in denial of it, we can choose to be all used up, choose to share what we’ve received, choose to direct our emptying out toward justice and mercy. It might not be earth-shaking or as dignified as we’d like, but it is necessary. 

One day a hindu yogi was talking with a hermit, and the hermit said “yesterday a fish saved my life.” The yogi was impressed by and a little envious of his rapport with the spirit of the fish until the hermit explained, “I was starving, and there was this fish.”

Maybe we are called to be fish. But we have our choice of which nets and which hooks. Paul chooses to work for love rather than hate. Simon and his companions choose to give themselves to Jesus’ promised society of justice rather than to subsistence fishing. And Jesus shows that he is able to teach them by making his first catch.

How shameful that you are full of food that rightfully belongs to others. 

How shameful that people speak well of you and thereby express approval of your disgraceful behavior.   

Remember in our first reading that Jeremiah reminds us that we need to trust God first rather than people, but Jeremiah does not speak to making change happen.  Yes, trust and faith are cornerstones to my belief system but personally I prefer the Jesus-approach:  Jesus was a person of action—he taught, he healed and cast out unclean spirits and he preached continually to issues of justice and inclusion.     

Now let’s fast-forward 2,000 years and reflect on what this Gospel lesson means to us, today.  Jesus has left us a roadmap—a blueprint for our lives as people of faith.  As we are able, we are called to share our gifts—whether that be teaching, healing and casting out demons, or something less dramatic.   

We are called each day to bring the kingdom of God into living reality and I feel this so powerfully.  For myself, each day I might work with a homeless person, a destitute disabled person or a senior who is alone, hungry and lonely.  We are challenged to turn away from the allure of power we see each day on TV and instead embrace the powerless.  One extra effort each day to acknowledge the disenfranchised among us—just imagine if we all brought one can of food each week to place on the alter.  Thirty cans a week—1,500 cans a year.  Just imagine the impact that Journey would have.  Let each of us reflect on how we each embody today’s lesson of honoring the outcast and “walking the talk” that Jesus spoke in today’s Gospel.