Scripture
Once while Jesus was standing beside the Lake of Gennesaret and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to burst. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’s knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were astounded at the catch of fish that they had taken, and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.
Sermon
Today we begin a journey with Simon Peter.
I have a confession to make. I was drawn to this worship series, designed for our use in the season of Lent, for two reasons. First, it appealed to me because I think I have given Peter short shrift over the course of my years of preaching. When I look back at his appearances in my sermons, I haven’t been very kind to Peter. I’ve made a caricature of him—had an attitude of “Oh, that Peter. There he goes again. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, missing the point.” And that’s simply not fair. If we look at the whole of Peter’s life with Jesus—the high points and the low points, the moments of deep insight and the moments of deeper learning—Peter feels awfully familiar. Peter starts to feel like us. Ordinary people who find themselves in a lifelong relationship with a Lord who challenges them, affirms them, lifts them up when they’re sinking, and calls them to be his witnesses in the world. What better guide could we have in our Lenten journey than someone who, just like us, is always working to figure out his faith? What better companion along Jesus’ way? Because, of course, a journey with Simon Peter is sure to turn out to be a journey with Jesus.
When we meet Simon Peter in today’s passage it’s his second appearance in the gospel according to Luke. His first is in the prior chapter, when Jesus comes to his home and heals his mother-in-law—we shared Mark’s version of that story two weeks ago. So this episode is not Peter’s first encounter with Jesus. Not long before this, Jesus had entered his home and performed a healing miracle.
Peter’s role in this story is almost incidental, at the beginning. Jesus has a problem. The crowd is big—too big for him to manage speaking effectively to them if they are trying to crowd around him here by the lake. And Jesus has a good sense of some basic physics, when it comes to projecting sound. Sound travels faster on water than on land—more than four times as fast. He sees the boats of fishermen who are washing their nets, and climbs into Simon Peter’s. He asks whether the fisherman would be willing to put out a little way from the shore, into the water. Simon agrees, and Jesus sits—the traditional teaching position of the rabbi—and continues his teaching.
Why does Jesus choose Simon’s boat? Does it matter which boat he got into? Maybe—almost certainly—Jesus remembers healing Simon’s mother-in-law. Or does Jesus already see in Simon something he wants in a follower—something he needs? The ability to work, alone, in pairs, in a small group. A work ethic (or maybe, just the need to put bread or fish on the table) that has Simon out on the water all night. Something about how the man carries himself. Whatever the reason, it's Simon Peter’s boat Jesus climbs into.
Once the preaching is over, instead of asking to be rowed back to shore, Jesus encourages Simon to go farther, go deeper. We had a bit of a conversation in Bible Study this week about “going deeper,” a phrase that can mean a number of different things. Is that where the fish are? Certainly, as we will see shortly. Is that far enough away from the crowds that their noise won’t drive the fish away? Maybe.
But going deeper can mean more than simple measurements of fathoms or feet. I’m reading, “The Prince of Tides” for the first time, basically because it’s the favorite book of Dr. Sharon Fieldstone, the psychiatrist on Ted Lasso. Early in the book the main character, Tom Wingo, is talking about how unhappy he is, and he muses on the help his sister has given him. He says,
“I had lived life in the shallows for too long, and she led me gently toward the deeper waters where all the bones, wreckage, and black hulks awaited my hesitant inspection.”[i]
Moving toward deep waters can be a metaphor for learning more deeply about ourselves, about who we are, and why we are who we are, and, hopefully, who we are meant to be. If Simon Peter’s journey is anything, it is the unfolding of a man into the fullness of himself, and who God is calling him to be.
Jesus asks Simon Peter to go deeper, and to let down his nets for a catch. Peter responds: “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.”
Peter’s answer is patient and respectful. He knows the water—he knows these waters, if he knows anything—and he is yet to see any sign that Jesus has any seafaring expertise or even experience. Still, Simon Peter calls Jesus “master,” or “lord,” a term of respect probably stemming from the healing he witnessed and which affected his own family so profoundly. So, he complies, lets down the nets, and is rewarded by a haul of fish so large the nets begin to tear. After calling on their fishing partners to help, the haul threatens to sink both boats.
This is the moment. This is the moment when Simon Peter’s understanding of who Jesus is changes. Expands. Why? Wasn’t the healing miracle enough? While Jesus is gaining a reputation for his deeds of power, there were other belief systems in place during his lifetime that also claimed these healing miracles. Devotees of the Greek god Heracles, Asclepius (a Greek physician who was believed to have become a god) and the Greek goddess Isis all claimed miracles in their names.
Is it that Jesus’ deeds of power are extended beyond the healing of a woman to the natural world? To be able to either know miraculously, or to somehow convene the fish to jump into the nets—and such a large haul, so large, two boatsful of skilled men struggled to bring the fish to shore—does this place Jesus is at another level, so to speak?
Maybe that’s it. It would have been astonishing, to anyone witnessing it. But Peter’s response—falling to his knees—suggests something more, something deeper. His words—"Get away from me, I am a sinful man…” tell us that Simon Peter feels somehow unveiled, stripped naked, emotionally speaking, in front of this wonderworker. Had Jesus gotten into the boat because he’d seen Peter’s discouragement at the frustrating night of much labor for no fish? Did Jesus sense Peter’s despair at the thought of returning home with no food, much less no income? Whatever it was, Simon Peter feels known, seen, and, in this moment, that is terrifying.
For most people, it takes at least a little time to let down our defenses, to allow new people in our lives to know who we are. Knowledge is power—especially knowledge about our fears, our insecurities, the things that make us feel unsafe. That’s why they’re called “defenses.” We try to keep ourselves safe. But Jesus knows. We can attribute it to powerful human intuition or to his status as the Christ, the second person of the Trinity. Whatever the case, he knows. But Jesus never uses this knowledge to harm—it is only to heal. The more I read scripture the more I beleive that every single thing Jesus does in his ministry is some form of healing. Whatever his hurts, fears, or insecurities, Peters healing journey with Jesus begins now.
Jesus responds to Peter with some of the most potent words in the Bible: Be not afraid. Be not afraid! When we hear those words, we hear echoes of angel announcements. We remember a night sky lit by their glory. We remember—and Peter starts to realize—God is with us.
Jesus continues, “From now on you’ll be catching people.” And Peter is in. And so are the other fishermen. They drop their nets and never turn back.
We are seeing the beginning of Peter’s healing journey, which seems to coincide with the beginning of his faith journey. What was the beginning of your faith journey? Mine began with tiny books of the saints given to me by my mother, all of which awakened in me a question: Who is this Jesus? How about you? Were you taught to pray by a parent or grandparent or teacher? Were you introduced to Jesus through a song or a hymn? Were you given a children’s bible?
Or was it something else, something later—sometimes, a spouse is the one who has the greatest impact on a faith journey. Sometimes, it is the moment when we become parents that pulls us toward either church or a greater spiritual connectedness than we’ve known before. Sometimes it is a simple search for community that blossoms into something more. What was the beginning of your faith journey?
I mentioned earlier that there were two reasons I was drawn to this Lenten series. Now I’m ready to tell you the second: it’s the song we will sing together in just few moments, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” This hymn informs, not only the sermon titles (for example, “Jesus sought me”) but also the overall theme: Wandering Heart. “Jesus sought me when a stranger,” we sing, “wandering from the fold of God.” It’s amazing how hymns make their way into our hearts. Hymns teach us scripture. They teach us theology. They teach us about service. And they teach us about ourselves. I’m not sure I’d have seen myself as having a wandering heart were it not for this hymn, but at some point it helped me to recognize and understand myself better.
So, dear, wandering hearts: Ponder this week the beginnings of your faith journey. Chat about it on our Facebook group. Talk to one another about it at Bible Study or at Lunch Bunch on Tuesday. Wonder about if when you get home from your shift at the Food Pantry on Wednesday. Make it a topic of conversation with God any day, any time. Join Peter on his journey, which is all of our journey this year. And God bless the journey, and God bless all the wanderers.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides (Boston, MA: Mariner Books, 1986), 18.