He called …they answered

Matthew 4

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. (Matthew 4)

This happened yesterday. And you should know that it may take quite a while for me to fully understand what I witnessed. In my mind, this was something that should never have happened.

I will explain. But first let me give you my version of this event. 
It was hot, and the wind was still, making it seem even hotter for this late summer day. I had just tied up my fishing boat at the shore in Capernaum, my home village. To my left, as it has been every day for years, was the boat belonging to Simon and Andrew. And to my right was the boat belonging to Zebedee and his sons, James and John. Our families were neighbors in Capernaum, and I suppose you would say that we are all friendly competitors.  

Though it was only about noon, our day was over. You surely know that the fisherman’s day begins long before sunrise. By noon, the boats are all back in the harbor, the crews are unloading their catch and cleaning up. That has been the fisherman’s daily ritual for time immemorial, six days a week. 

“How’d you do?” I shouted to John.

“Worst I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “You couldn’t buy a fish out there today. Terrible, just terrible! And a really big one got away!”

You surely know that fishermen like to grumble. About anything, really, including the weather, the water, fishermen’s luck, even one another. Grumbling is just part of the job, part of our life.

“But tomorrow will be better, you’ll see,” James added. Of course, you also know that we fishermen are eternally optimistic, especially about our future prospects!

We continued to grumble and commiserate with one another as we tossed our trash to the squawking shorebirds who fought over each morsel thrown their way. 

You should know that I can trace fishing back for generations in my family. The others, Simon, Andrew, James and John, would tell you the same. Ours is not a terribly well-respected vocation, but we do receive some thanks from the villagers who buy our catch. We are satisfied when we can earn a decent living. And none of us has ever expressed a desire to change our life’s work to anything easier or more comfortable. I think I can speak for us all when I say that we like the challenge and we like being on the water.

Maybe it was the determination and optimism of that life on the water that Jesus saw. You surely know about Jesus, the young rabbi who recently moved to our village. In a short time, he has made quite a name for himself, teaching and healing. And unlike other rabbis, Jesus seems to focus on troubled people, including the poor, sick and those who have been rejected as “sinners” by the respectable folks.

I observed how Jesus approached my friends in their boats. He was direct and to the point, shouting out toward Simon and Andrew while they were still offshore. And yet he did not elaborate about just what would be involved in following him. His comment about “fishers of people” was very puzzling to me.

Jesus calling Peter and Andrew

Duccio, 14th century

And besides, rabbis don’t actively recruit followers; they let people come to them. But not Jesus. Even though he explained little, he seemed certain that these four men should drop what they were doing and come with him.

And, to my great surprise, they did. They accepted his invitation. As I said, I was shocked. This was something that should never have happened.

Of course, they are giving up so much certainty for such a vague undertaking. As I said, generations of their family’s vocation were suddenly abandoned. You appreciate, I am sure, the comfort in knowing, each morning, what kind of day you have awakened to. And they knew that whatever kind of life Jesus offered, he could never offer such assurance.

What’s more, they were agreeing to a life with no economic prospects. Though we will never get rich on the sea, we at least can rely on a steady income. Simon, among us, is married and has a wife (and mother-in-law) to provide for. 

But Jesus offered no promise of wealth or even income. Actually, he offered no assurance of anything. 

If Jesus had asked me, I would have raised some questions. I mean, wouldn’t you?

 “Jesus, can you tell me more about what is involved? I mean, exactly what will we be actually doing?”

“Jesus, can you tell me how long you will need us? I mean, this is just temporary, isn’t it, until you have a bigger following? Until you can find disciples who are more qualified?”

“Jesus, we will be here in Capernaum, won’t we? I mean, we won’t need to be away from home, will we?”

“Jesus, exactly how many followers are you looking for? Surely more than just us, right?”

“Jesus, can you tell us if there could be any danger involved?”

“Hopefully, no public speaking. I mean, I am not good at speaking in public.”

“Jesus, can I invite some of my friends to join us?”

“Can we still fish part-time? I mean this won’t occupy us all day, every day, will it?”

“When our family and friends ask us about following you, Jesus, what should we say?”

I am sure that, had you been invited by Jesus, you would also have many questions of your own.

But these four friends asked nothing of Jesus. His invitation was all they needed.

As they were leaving, I called out to Simon:

“Simon, what are you doing? Where are you going?” I asked. “You can’t just leave, can you? You have responsibilities! You and Andrew have a boat! You have a wife! You have a mother-in-law!”

“Yes, I know but still, I am going,” he replied. “Maybe this is crazy, and maybe I should know more about this, but something in his invitation made me want to accept. I really can’t explain it.”

And then he was off, along with the others. Gone, for how long, is anybody’s guess.

Now, alone, in my boat, I could only ponder what is in store for them. And then, believe it or not, I began to ask myself some other, more penetrating questions.

First, why them? What did Jesus see in them? And then, why not me? What did Jesus see in them that he did not see in me? He must have seen something, I concluded, or he would have invited me too. What was it?

And finally, I asked myself this question: If Jesus had invited me, what would I have said? Would I have asked all those questions rattling around in my head, or would I have just accepted, as my friends did, on faith? Or, on the other hand, would I have turned Jesus down? Would I have lacked the faith that they seemed to have?

If Jesus had invited you, what would you do?

 P.S. As you read this letter from me, perhaps you know how all of this turned out. My guess is that these four friends won’t last very long as followers of Jesus. I mean, fishing is just in their blood and it will take a lot to draw them away for very long. So, I suspect that, by your time, their names will be, like mine, forgotten to history.