Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”
As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea–for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him.
As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.
May the words…
Nearly every time scripture is set at the Sea of Galilee, I’m swept up into my trip to the Sea. In 2009, The United Church of Canada sent a group of 16 young adults to be witnesses and offer solidarity to our partners in Palestine/Israel. They had invited us to come and see. Though many of us continue to serve the church today, some ordained into ministry, some lay members leading in congregational and community ministries, and even one who put their name forward to serve as the moderator, this wasn’t a call to ministry – a burning bush – moment. We arrived at the Sea on the way to somewhere else, early on in our trip. The group decided to stop, to go for a dip. At the church on top of the hill, we changed into our suits. I had decided that it was too complicated for me to go in, but I was happy to wait in the church. But that wasn’t going to do for the group who insisted that I come. When everyone had changed, we went down to the water. We weren’t greeted with a soft sandy beach, but a hard rocky shore. Again, I sought to convince them this was fine, they should go ahead … I was quite happy on the shore. But that wasn’t going to do. Partly by piggy back over stones, partly by walking with people supporting me on all sides, we got in the water. I swam with various friends holding me. Other friends piled rocks on top of each other until, yes, they were able to walk on water. A scene of splashing, laughing, letting loose. That unwillingness to leave me on the shore continued throughout our pilgrimage: groups took turns pushing my chair up hill and down, walking with me upstairs into meals with partners and teachers, and taking apart and putting together my wheelchair as we passed through turn-style checkpoints that keep most disabled Palestinians out. We were on the journey together, and we trusted that we would figure things out as we went along.
In our journey through this season of Epiphany, we witness Jesus beginning his ministry. He doesn’t start by traveling to the economic, political, and religious centres of power – Jerusalem, or maybe Washington. He starts away from what and who the world deems as powerful. His initial call is for repentance, much like how John met us in the wilderness. Change your way of thinking, wrap your mind around a new reality, one that we’re already living into.
In a beautiful way, Jesus encountered people whose names weren’t yet known by all at the lakeshore – meeting them in the midst of their daily lives. Jesus wanted his ministry to be a shared one, and so instead of students seeking out the teachers they want to learn from, he sought out his first followers. He starts his work of disruption, of announcing the kindom of God to a man under a fig tree, a few fishermen here, and a few fishermen there. In doing God’s work, these are the people Jesus insisted come.
As a person who likes and needs to think through things and who find plans reassuring, I am struck by the urgency of his call and the immediacy of their response. They followed Jesus based on a dozen words or so. (As in my story, I even take time to dip my toe in new waters.) Answering his call, they drop their nets and follow Jesus. In dropping their nets, their livelihood, their communities, Simon, Andrew, James, and John trusted Jesus’ call into a new world, trusted their response, and trusted the community they were being gathered into. As we quickly learn through Mark’s stories, the disciples were not perfect. They fumbled and faltered at different points along the way. When waves rocked their boat, they panicked. When they were asked to feed the crowd, they were helpless. When fear came upon them, they left the cross. And yet, Jesus trusted them to repent and return, to follow and to grow in and through love.
Be it in personal family relationships, in community organizations, or in national and international conversations, we know how fragile trust really is. Often it is built over a period of time, or an intense formative time, and it can break in an instant. It can be trampled on, tearing into more and more pieces. People can build walls, take land, and cut off water from each other. Leaders can sow hatred and division … their words becoming harmful actions and those actions widening the distrust among peoples.
We know of its fragility in the church, too. Stories of clergy abusing women, or other abuses of power and role. Stories of children being taken from their indigenous communities to attend church-run residential schools. Stories of disabled people for whom the church prayed for healing, and who suffered blame when it didn’t happen as expected. Stories of black and brown people whose cries for justice are dismissed, who suffer from white supremacists that claim to speak in the name of God. Stories of congregations where people are stuck in conflict, not able to trust one another.
When trust has been betrayed, it takes time, energy, courage, and grace to rebuild. This is especially true when the church has not lived up to God’s kindom vision, when we have caused harm instead of shown love – harming people’s relationship not only with the community, but with God. And yet, as Jesus trusted the first disciples to repent, to follow, and to grow, Jesus trusts us to do likewise. Even though our actions may fumble and our words may falter, Jesus calls to us again and again. He insists we are the ones needed to rebuild the beloved community. He insists we are the ones needed to mend the nets of the church and the world, in and through God’s grace. It is in those moments, great and small, that the kindom is ushered in.
And so, as our partners in Palestine/Israel insisted we come and see, as my group insisted I come and play in the Sea of Galilee, as Jesus insisted his disciples leave their nets and follow, he insistently calls us and he trusts us to join in. May it be so.
— Rev. Miriam Spies