St Columba’s Church, Gruline,
The Fourth Sunday Before Lent, 10 February 2019
I wonder if you’ve ever considered that if Peter and his colleagues had not been fishermen, but doctors, then Jesus would have called them to be healers of men; that if Peter and his colleagues had been bakers, then Jesus would have told them their calling now was to bring people the bread of life; or if Peter and his cohorts had been plumbers, Jesus would have said that from now on they would serve people by supplying them with living waters.
For the metaphor which Jesus used to describe the disciples’ new vocation related directly and deeply to their existing vocation.
And this must have surely come about through Jesus observing the fishermen at work, contemplating the ways they went about their days, training his eyes to see the nuances in the skilled tasks they performed, appreciating their teamwork - and then, as their teacher, affirming their everyday skills and encouraging them of their value, in the work he was now inviting them to share: the gentle, generous task of furthering the kingdom of God.
What does it take to be a fisherman? Intelligence in understanding the ways of fish and their whereabouts. A strong stomach and the ability to keep going in all weathers. Patience above all, I imagine. The willingness to be alone, adrift, a long long time, living in hope of a catch.
“All goes back to the earth”, writes Wendell Berry,
“and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman's silence
receiving the river's grace” [1]
And so in contemplating the qualities of the fisherman, Jesus discerned there also the latent qualities of the disciple, the apostle.
And so the phrase “fishing for men” is how Jesus encourages his friends the fishermen to the exercise of a soft power in their world, utilising the gifts they had been given in the service of the kingdom.
For Jesus’ phrase “fishing for men” - or women - is not a way of forcing the idea that the chief goal of a Christian life is to “catch” human beings by proselytising. That would be to rather oversimplify how human interaction and exchange really works; somewhat diminishing the humanity of both the one caught and the catcher whilst reducing Christian activity to something like a Ponzi scheme; a sales pitch which can only build a pyramid of hope and disappointment. [2]
Rather Jesus’ fishermen metaphor invites us to consider vocation as something which evolves over time, in which the gifts and character we develop continue to be reshaped and reused by God in the ongoing work of service.
When asked, as you’re being asked today, to consider your vocation in life, many of us respond like Peter responded at first, to Jesus. You recall that he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’
We may have taken onboard the falsehood that our particular vocation is somehow unworthy of God; that God’s work is way above and beyond anything we can do. Nothing could be more wrong; as the entire gospels show - Jesus is interested in being alongside everybody, affirming and valuing people from all walks of life and gifts of character, from those skilled at sea to those gifted in finance; from widows minding their minute household budgets so tightly to priests receiving the abundance of sacrifices at the holy altar. All are one in Christ Jesus, one in their diversity of vocations.
I like to suggest to those of us who are maturer in years that an important part of our own service of Christ now involves identifying, affirming and developing the vocations of others, particularly the young. How much the young need the advice, experience and encouragement of the old to help them find their way through the unchartered waters of their lives, today with all its distractions and challenges. How wonderful when old ones give time and effort to the young.
This scripture story invites us to discern signs of the kingdom of God in the lives of those around us, to honour them, and to nurture them to maturity. This is about empathy and the celebration of God at work in the everyday. This is an encouragement to walk alongside others out in their world, and together “to find out what God is doing and join in”. [3]
Part of my Christian formation was as an apprentice welder, creating in metal and fire; it was the first job I had on leaving school at sixteen, and at that time I was especially impressed that part of Jesus’ own formation was as a craftsman.
Some years later I was drawn to the Iona Community, whose ethos is rooted in a keen affirmation of the deep connection between work and worship; as you doubtless know, begun with a collaboration between respectably-educated trainee ministers and rough-edged craftsmen who rolled up their sleeves and together got on with the task of rebuilding that Abbey, and saying their prayers together each day too. They have a lot to offer when it comes to contemplating vocation.
I close with this prayer from the Iona Community’s daily liturgy, a prayer of George Macleod. Perhaps you might make it your own:
O Christ, the Master Carpenter, who at the last, through wood and nails, purchased our whole salvation, wield well your tools in the workshop of your world, so that we who come rough-hewn to your bench may here be fashioned to a truer beauty of your hand. [4]
Notes
'On vacation' because this sermon was preached whilst on locum minister duty at St Columba's, Gruline, on the Isle of Mull. I've given previous versions of this talk to a Deanery Clergy Chapter and on the occasion of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh's 70th wedding anniversary, both in Somerset in 2017.
[1] Wendell Berry, The Want of Peace, New Collected Poems.
[2] Robert Hamerton-Kelly, Fishers of Men, February 4, 2007.
[3] A phrase widely attributed to Archbishop Rowan Williams.
[4] Iona Community, Iona Abbey Worship Book (2001 edition), p.19, and various other titles of Wild Goose Publications.
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