5 Epiphany.C.25
Luke 5:1-11
The Rev. Melanie McCarley

Most everyone who has fished has a story to tell. Here’s mine. My grandparents lived on the Caloosahatchee River in Fort Myers, Florida. Their house had a dock. One afternoon, someone had the idea to teach my sister and me to fish. Really—what they probably wanted was to get us out of the house, because I don’t recall much instruction being given. Sherri and I tossed our hooks, lines and sinkers into the water and began to wait. Finally, after what seemed like endless hours under the hot sun—but was probably little more than a few minutes, my line tugged and I reeled in a strange, somewhat rectangular looking creature which, once it landed on the dock began to do the most remarkable thing. It blew itself up like a balloon. This fish was at once amazing and absolutely terrifying. I had never seen anything like it. I had no idea what to do. An adult was quickly fetched who informed us that my sister and I had landed a puffer fish. They promptly disengaged the hook and the puffer fish was tossed back into the water where it floated down the Caloosahatchee River—looking for all the world like a buoy. Which goes to show—if you chance to go fishing and toss out your line, you’re never quite sure what you’ll be hauling in.

In the Gospel lesson for today our story begins with Jesus teaching a large group of people. As more and more gather and push in on him in order to hear his unique take on the word of God, you can imagine Jesus inching closer and closer to the water’s edge and bumping up onto one of the two boats sitting on the shore as the fishermen wash their nets after a night out on the lake. These fishermen are tired, and—quite frankly, discouraged. The fish had not been biting.

According to Luke, who is writing the Gospel, Simon Peter has already encountered Jesus before, when Jesus healed his mother-in-law in the preceding chapter of Luke’s gospel. So, based on what Simon Peter has already seen and experienced from Jesus, he respects him and is grateful enough to acquiesce to Jesus’s request to put out a little ways in his boat. And, though it seems clear that Simon Peter is doubtful about this fishing expedition, saying: “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” he’s even willing to put out his net for a catch.

And what a catch it was—so many fish that the nets begin to break. And in the midst of this wonder there is a remarkable moment occurring between Jesus and Simon Peter. Peter falls to his knees and says: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” Now, the word, “Lord” that Simon Peter uses is the same one which is connected to how the Septuagint (the earliest Greek translation of the Old Testament) refers to God. This, clearly, is a declaration of belief—maybe just as surprising to Peter as was the catch of fish he had just hauled in. And what does Jesus do? He tells Simon Peter not to be afraid. And with this comes a charge—“from now on you will be catching people.” Really, if you think about it, it’s the charge of all those who follow the Lord. Throw out your net, toss our your line and see what God sends you.

When I imagine that net being hauled into the boats on the lake of Gennesaret, I don’t imagine there was only one kind of fish in the net. I picture that net with a bounty of fish of all kinds and sizes: catfish, pike, eels, a big mouth bass, perch, trout and walleye and maybe a sturgeon or two. Perhaps there is some species which until now was hitherto unknown—maybe even a crab or turtle as well.

Which brings me back to my puffer fish thrashing about on the dock of my grandparent’s home and Jesus’ statement to Peter: “Do not be afraid.”. That fish was probably just as scared of me as I was of him—if not more so. He wasn’t what I had hoped for. He certainly wasn’t what I expected—but he was remarkable—absolutely wondrous—after, of course, I had gotten over my dismay that he might blow himself up right then and there in a big fishy mess on the dock. So amazing, that the memory has stayed with me over fifty years.

Take a moment and imagine a church as something like that great haul of fish that Jesus enabled in the Gospel story for today. Churches are composed of a remarkable assortment of all types of individuals. Oh, we might think we know all the species swimming in these here waters of Dedham, Massachusetts—but even so, we should prepare ourselves to be surprised. The last church I served in West Virginia described itself as a traditional, Episcopal Church—which, as we know means white and in comparison to the town, of the upper middle class. And, in truth, if you took a snapshot of that parish on any given Sunday, you’d probably see the pews primarily, but not entirely, awash in Caucasian white. But in that place there was a heavily tattooed family, a young person with blue, green or red hair (depending on her mood), A very proper, wealthy woman who once told me that she was going to chain herself to a tree that I happened to suggest be cut down (the tree is still there); a family that were also members of the Native American Church who once smudged the interior of Zion with sage. In that space there were Republicans and Democrats—and not a few libertarians as well. We had gay people and straight people in the pews, even a few folks who I had showed up with to court on more than one occasion. There were people who had endured traumas and tragedies I know not how; others who had incredible talents of which I would never have dreamed. Though some folks could be a trial, not one person was a disappointment, each of them were absolutely remarkable. I learned something from all of them. Not one of them was what I would have expected. If I’ve learned one thing over the years, it is that people are a perpetual surprise. Thank Almighty God.

When Peter pulled in that net, bursting with fish, Jesus responds with this statement: “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid, for from now on you will be catching people.” Notice that he doesn’t say—you are to fish for only one kind of people (like trout). It’s a blanket statement. People. All people. All the fish in the sea. Even fish that might blow up like a balloon, others with big teeth and still more that are, in their own way, wondrously different. That’s the best version of a church I can imagine—one in which we are all brought together—held together by the love of God. A love which embraces everyone. Like Peter, you and I, we are not to be afraid. We are to toss out our nets and let down our lines and fish for people to welcome into the kingdom of God. In Jesus’ name. Amen.