Sermon for the 3rd Sunday after Epiphany

Fish

Charlie Barton • January 22, 2012 • Saint James, Monkton

He wore faded overalls that were decorated with the signs of past adventures - a brushed line of yellow paint there, a few drops of wood stain on one knee. The dark blue denim was frayed at the edges, softer and much lighter in color.

His small boat was tied at the dock, one among many. In one of his hands was a pole, and in the other hand, his tackle box. That box holds the wisdom of the ages.

Every group has its lore, its power symbols and its sacred stories. For example, every person who fishes, in salt water or fresh, has his or her tale about the one that got away. Those mythical lost fish are something about which Herman Melville would have been proud to write.

Then there are the tales of perseverance and endurance - "we got up a half an hour before we went to bed and left in the dark… and it was raining, hard…and it was cold rain…with sleet in it."

People who fish probably spend as much time talking about fishing as actually putting a line in the water.

But if you really want to have an animated, and probably lengthy, conversation - ask an old fisherman to open up his tackle box. Then prepare to hear everything about what makes fish bite.

It's a heavily subjective topic, but the observable facts do indicate that some bugs, some baits, some lures work better than others… if used at the right time.

Let's imagine for moment that there's a scientific field called "Fish Psychology." Wouldn't it be interesting to know what fish are thinking? For nothing in its right mind would bite down on something that would culminate in being hauled out of the environment in which it normally lives only to experience considerable pain and possible death. Is yellow plastic, or a wiggling spoon really that attractive?

Now I'll go out on a limb here and say that fish probably don't talk to each other about the dangers of hooks. I'm also going to guess that fish don't think about the future. And I think it's pretty safe to say that elemental urges like hunger govern most of the actions of fish. So maybe a wiggling spoon, that looks like lunch, is that attractive.

People on the other hand, do talk about danger and think about the future - most of the time. But almost everybody has had an experience where the lure was so attractive that they bit.

Think about that job you took, leaving a perfectly good situation for one full of unknowns.

What about those investments many of us have made - remember the bright yellow plastic of the prospectus and the wiggling spoon of imagined profit? Remember the one that got away? It was this big!

Consider how any of us end up married. Once there was that very attractive person across the room, and suddenly we've had a wife or a husband for years. What happened there?

Was deciding to have children a completely rational exercise? For most people considerable passion is involved at some point.

And what about our faith? At its best, it's like falling in love. If we let ourselves get caught up in it, we'll experience more than we can imagine or pray for.

In each case, something drew us… and we bit. And once we bit we were pulled into a different life - as different from our previous experience as air is from water.

Even as we were biting, none of us could have predicted how it would all turn out, but even so, we bit. And so did the first disciples.

Now Jesus was not a wiggling spoon, nor was he bright shiny plastic. Jesus was the real deal. Even a very old fisherman like Peter or James may not be able to explain exactly what the lure was or why the disciples bit. But the observable fact is that they did, and not just once.

Twelve times Jesus put a line in the water and came up with what would be seen as really big fish. Over the years Jesus would pull in hundreds of smaller ones. The disciples sat with Jesus as he told fish tales and explained what was in his tackle box and they listened and learned. And they in turn went to the places where fish congregate and they gathered them in, scores at a time. As we sit here today we know that millions have been caught up in the stories, the call and the work of Jesus.

So why are we here, today, swimming in this part of God's ocean?

Are we fish deciding whether or not to bite? Are we disciples looking to do as Jesus told us? Are we vestry members and stewardship community chairs eyeing the water and looking through the tackle box for better lures? Yes, all this and more.

People come to church for a variety of reasons. Some are so battered by the wind and the waves that they just want a quiet pool in which to rest for a while. And they can find that here - look at the eight o'clock Sunday service or the Tuesday morning Healing liturgy in the meditation chapel or the time of silent prayer with the Daughters of the Kings on Thursday mornings at 8:30.

Others folks who come to St. James are like salmon ready to leap waterfalls and swim upstream, eager to make something new. Think about the Art Show Committee, the fundraising work of the Out of the Box Committee, the various projects of the Men's Organization and the Social Ministries Community. Saint James is a big enough body of water to have both still pools and rushing rivers. And we need them all because all kinds of fish swim here.

There is a lot about which we can feel proud and pleased. But much as we might like it to be otherwise, even the church is not perfect. All churches have fish young in understanding that come seeking something they can't quite identify and who in their hunger will strike at anything, even each other. And all churches have wiser fish with years of experience that know better than to bite on every lure.

A church is a place to learn and grow, a school for fish of all sizes, levels of maturity and needs. As in life itself we will encounter all manner of things in the water as we swim through the seasons at St. James. The same challenges are present in our families, at our work, in our politics and in the marketplace because the same fish may be found everywhere.

And this is where discernment comes in. Before we chase every wiggling spoon or get seduced by the latest yellow plastic, let's notice what's being presented, who's trying to catch us and then think about what boat we might end up in if we bite.

Let's compare whatever is dangling in the water to the fishing stories we have from the disciples and to the actions of the best fisherman ever.

Let's take that common phrase, "what would Jesus do?" and change it just a bit. "Is this how Jesus would fish?" we can ask ourselves as we contemplate an action at church, at work or out in the world. "Is this the right place to play out my line?" we can wonder when we're invited to fish in a new pool.

And when the call from Jesus comes, and it does - in little ways and ones larger than we might imagine, listen to Him. Are you being drawn to swim deeper, to leave the water you have known, drawn by a promise and by hope? Go for it! Are you being called to something more - to not just be a fish but to help Jesus fish for others? Gather a discernment group to help you consider what that call might be. Vic and I would be glad to help.

God only knows what in store for any of us. And that's good news! For God is trustworthy, loving, and wise. Saint James is one of God's fishing schools: fishing skills are freely taught here and no license is needed for most things. All you that are hungry and thirsty come to the water and you will be filled. AMEN

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