Sunday, January 22, 2017

Third Sunday after Epiphany

Matthew 4
17 From that time on Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
18 As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 19 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” 20 At once they left their nets and followed him.
21 Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets. Jesus called them, 22 and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.
23 Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.


Jesus said ‘put down your nets,’ but it didn’t happen in Toronto until 1807.

1807 marks the first attempt at environmental regulation in Upper Canada, limiting the use of commercial fishing equipment at the mouth of the Humber and other rivers. You could still use a hook and line, or a spear, but no net.

It was an attempt to protect the most important native species in an around Toronto, the Atlantic Salmon. It was so abundant that it was said you could fish our rivers with a shovel or by hand to get all the salmon needed to feed your family. Yet, early on it was obvious this was a precious resource.

But human impact was not to be stopped. Stonehooking, taking river stones for construction (a Weston obsession) destroyed spawning grounds, the construction of mills (60 of them on the Humber by 1846), and the sudden and mysterious appearance of the Sea Lamprey all conspired to reduce the number of salmon in the lake. By the 1840’s stocks were down and by the 1890’s the salmon were gone.

Over the next century, there were numerous attempts to reintroduce salmon, mostly fish from B.C. This, of course, was also the peak era of industrial pollution on the lake, so efforts largely failed. It would take a generation of environmental action to clean the lake to the point that such reintroductions could succeed. And just in the last decade it has, with the annual salmon run on the Humber (late September) an event once more.

I share this because so many stories and images from the Bible are never local to us. Weston never had a lot of ‘shepherds in their fields abiding,’ and I doubt there was ever a vineyard worthy of a parable. But the one thing we had (and have once more) is fishing. And while it’s still illegal to use a net, Jesus could pass by the Humber, find some fishers, and say ‘will you come and follow me?’

So what is he really asking? One of the very striking elements of this ‘ask’ is the way in which it seems so gentle, so playful. “Come, follow me,” he said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” And at once they left their nets and followed him. It seems so effortless—ask and they follow—like the simplest thing in the world.

And follow they did. Maybe they thought it would be for an afternoon, something infinitely more interesting that mending nets. Maybe they were willing to give it a day or two, and see how it went. Or maybe, by some miracle, they had a sense of the real magnitude of what they are being asked—but we can’t know.

For now, there seems to be mostly openness: openness to this message that the kingdom of heaven is near, openness to the gentle invitation to follow, and openness to the project that perhaps they already knew, and is so neatly summarized at the end of our passage:

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.

And what’s not to love? Matthew gives us a thumbnail sketch of “Jesus: The Early Days” with his three part movement of teaching, proclaiming, and healing. It’s easy to imagine that this would be follow-worthy: leaving the mundane behind to watch this man begin his project. Still on the gentle invitation, the program is very easy to follow.

First, everyone wants to learn. Some may say they don’t, but even the learning averse want to know tomorrow’s weather or what the neighbours are doing. So following this teacher is intriguing, sharing new news about God and God’s way, talking about human nature and how these these things collide. Opportunities to learn were scarce, so a new teacher is very exciting.

And sharing the Good News of the Kingdom, or even trying to explain what it is, would take up a large part of Jesus time. Here, the interesting part might be watching puzzled faces, people scratching their heads as they try to get a handle on this kingdom. If every parable is an attempt to explain the kingdom, then Jesus obviously had to try and try again, and even now we struggle to understand.

And his healing ministry, the ability to cure the sick (and later raise the dead) would be the icing on the cake of following Jesus in those early days. Seeing lives utterly transformed, making new witnesses to the power of God manifest in Jesus, this is the part of his ministry that becomes the most compelling. All in all, Jesus makes it simple in the early days, and fishing for people must have seemed the easiest thing in the world.

Until it didn’t. There was likely a moment that these twelve began to sense that there was more to following Jesus than simply accepting the adulation of the crowd, congratulating the newly healed, enjoying all the bread and fish you could eat. There was likely a moment when there was more to following Jesus than debating the merit of the latest parable or keeping track of the latest example of being blessed.

Maybe the moment came from the edge of the crowd, when someone remarked about healing on the sabbath. Maybe the moment was when those most threatened by his message—teachers of the law, for example—came forward to complain. Or maybe it was one of the many references to sacrifice Jesus described: forgetting yourself, facing rejection, or the then vague idea of picking up your cross.

There could have been any of a number of moments, when the twelve began to see that following was blessing and burden, and maybe more burden, but I want to suggest one in particular. And it the moment happens when they are back in the comfort of the very familiar, their fishing boat:

23 Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. 24 Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. 25 The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”
26 He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
27 The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”

What kind of man, indeed. Before this moment, Jesus was teacher, prophet, and healer. Wise words were shared, a new message proclaimed, and a new sort of medicine enacted—all remarkable—but nothing compared to this. Jesus demonstrated his unique relationship to the natural world and everything changed. This was the power of God present in a new way.

Here, in the liberal church, we typically stop here. Jesus can teach us, cast a vision, even practice some sort of healing in a primitive society, but we tend to stop at the wind and the waves. We are deeply ambivalent to outright dismissive when it comes to Jesus control over nature. And I don’t think we’re alone. Whether you’re pre-scientific or fully scientific, it’s hard to believe.

But I’m going to argue that belief in Jesus and his unique relationship to the natural world is a vital precisely because this is the moment the twelve go from being followers to being disciples. They witness the power of God on our behalf, and they are overwhelmed. Asking “what kind of man is this” is the moment of recognition, the moment that they become truly aware that God is at work in the world in a new way.

It’s quite distant from “come and follow me.” It’s a far cry from explaining the kingdom and arguing with Pharisees. One day it’s mending nets, and another it’s witnessing the power of God. This will lead to more than one miraculous catch, and eventually to a morning meal—when Jesus will serve them grilled fish and explain to them the resurrection. There is a long path to come, one that will test them and cause them to wonder—and we’re invited to follow too.

May God guide us, and help us believe, now and always, Amen.

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