Philip’s Reflection: “Let Down Your Nets” (Luke 5:4)
“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you,
O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”
Amen
John and Bev Barton are busy with a move this week, so I think it’s quite safe to tell you
of the time, about 15 years ago, that I first met John, now the co-Chair of the St. David’s
Board. With customary generosity, John had donated half a day of salmon-fishing on his
boat, the sloop John B, as a silent auction prize in the annual fund-raiser for First United
Church, and it so happened that I was the successful bidder. It would be a wonderful
opportunity to spend an afternoon with my son Chris, and a couple of his friends on
John’s boat, with an experienced skipper and a knowledgeable fishing guide. And, of
course, it was a very enjoyable afternoon, full of good stories and good humour, a nice
picnic lunch and great company - but only one thing was missing – you guessed it, no
salmon, not even a bite!
And just as we were on our way home, passing Ambleside Beach towards the Lions
Gate Bridge, we got our first strike of the day, not just any bite, but the type of bite that
almost pulls the rod out of the downrigger and bends the rod at right angles, and my son
grabbed the rod and started reeling in the big fish. He had it on the line for what seemed
like an eternity, skillfully bringing it closer to the boat, and finally we could see the big
fish gleaming and flashing in the clear water. John had the net ready and lent over the
side to lift out the great fish. And then, in the blink of an eye, the salmon leapt clean out
of the water, only 12-15 feet from the boat, and as it leapt, the jaws of a sea-lion
emerged from the water and like Leviathan, grabbed the fish, hook, line and sinker, and
off it went – the line snaking away so fast it was almost red hot – until the sea-lion
stopped diving, and surfaced about 30 or 40 yards away, put its head above water with
Chris’s big fish still between its jaws, I swear grinning, as if to taunt us! And I have to
confess that my response was quite unbecoming of a future ordained minister of the
United Church of Canada!
Our Gospel reading today is a fishing story of a different kind – we hear that when
Jesus comes to the shore of Lake Gennesaret, the Sea of Galilee, he too found a group
of disappointed fishermen. Almost overwhelmed by the crowds, Jesus hops into one of
the boats and he asks Simon to row him out “a little way from the shore” so that he
could continue teaching the crowds from the boat. And Luke tells us that “when he had
finished speaking, [Jesus] said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let your nets
down for a catch.” And we might sympathize with Simon when he says “Master, we
have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet, if you say so, I will let down the
nets.” And you know what happens next – they catch so many fish that “their nets were
beginning to break” – they have to summon help to haul in the fish, and the boats
become so full they’re in danger of sinking. A nice problem you might think!
Simon realizes that what he’s witnessing is more than a prize-winning catch – it’s
nothing short of a miracle, and he falls to his knees in wonder and amazement,
addressing Jesus as “Lord” and asking him to depart, for now Simon feels unworthy in
the presence of the divine. And Jesus says to Simon: “Do not be afraid; from now on
you will be catching people.” And after they had brought their boats to shore, Luke tells
us that these first disciples – Simon (who would become known as Peter), and his
fishing partners, the brothers James and John – “left everything and followed Jesus.”
There are many ways of understanding this great fishing tale – we could start at the
end, as many do, and see it as a “call to discipleship” – and of course it is, Simon,
James and John, show exemplary faith in leaving “everything” behind, to follow Jesus –
the boats and fishing equipment, the source of a modest income to sustain them and
their families; and even leaving their father Zebedee, whose livelihood depended on
them. Or we might understand the story as revealing God’s abundance – how the
disciples’ trust in Jesus, despite their initial resistance, is rewarded – and scarcity is
turned into super-abundance. There’s truth in that too.
But as I’ve re-read and reflected on this story, I can’t help thinking about the nets -
because for many of us the nets are a troubling image; and we’re now only too well
aware of the way the metaphor of the nets and “catching people” has been interpreted
by the church, over hundreds of years, as a pretext for violence towards those of
different spiritual traditions, including the Indigenous, to convert them to Christianity. To
be fair, Luke doesn’t use the language of “fishing for people” that we hear in the other
gospel accounts of this story. But what are we to make of Jesus’ instruction to “let down
your nets for a catch” and “catching people”? Was he, as some have supposed, prefiguring
the “great commissioning” towards the end of Matthew’s gospel – “Go therefore
and make disciples of all nations… teaching them to obey everything that I have
commanded you” (Matt 28:19-20)? Or are we to understand his words in a different
way? What does it mean for us at St. David’s now, at a time when the very word
“mission” can trigger images of the violent legacy of colonization?
We mustn’t try to read Jesus’ mind or put words into his mouth. But as we struggle with
the image of the nets, I’ve come to see that this story is really about God’s love. We first
notice Jesus telling Simon to “put out into deep water” – to leave the shallow waters and
safety of shore line and find deeper waters, yes, potentially more risky and uncharted;
but “Do not be afraid” he tells Simon, “Let down your nets for a catch.” What if we view
these nets, not as instruments to capture: but as an expression of God’s love? Not as
the tools of coercion or conversion; but as the means of gathering, and saving the lost
or even the curious, from the darkness of the deep waters. “The people”, as Jesus says,
who may be swimming in a sea of unknowing, looking for a sense of meaning or
purpose, who we can help to bring closer to God, through the power of the Holy Spirit?
The nets that a community such as St. David’s might let down are not those that will
trap or coerce; but that will empower, inform and inspire, through transforming in-person
worship, Christian formation programs and by creating impactful opportunities for
justice-based outreach. Nets such as these become, if you like, the symbols of who we
are, and of whose we are, and what we do. They define a community that exists for the
other, for those who want to learn the gospel message, who perhaps have not yet
discovered a faith home to belong to, a community that practices what it preaches,
through unconditional love and hospitality to all people of goodwill. Viewed this way, I
now think of the nets that Jesus commands the disciples to lower not as gillnets, for
hauling in new members; but as safety nets – nets that are lowered in love, nets that
can bring new life and meaning.
Jesus says “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch”. Individually,
and as a community, it’s a call to leave the shallow water of the lakeshore, to leave
behind whatever it is that holds you back; let go of the familiar and explore new
possibilities – go further afield, and go deeper. But “Do not be afraid” says for Jesus, for
you are not alone; God will be with you. And as this story reveals, abundance will be
experienced in unexpected ways. Letting down your nets in love will be rewarded – not
necessarily by catching a very big fish – although that would always be welcome; but as
disciples, offering others the experience of abundant and everlasting life that is the Spirit
of Christ, for all who might believe. And that surely would be the best fisherman’s tale
we could possibly imagine.
Let us pray,
Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
alive and at large in the world,
help us to follow and find you today
in the places where we work and meet people
spend leisure time and make plans.
Teach us to see through your eyes,
and to hear the questions you ask;
by the power of the Cross,
and in the freedom of your Spirit, we pray. Amen.
(John Taylor, Bishop of Winchester, 1985)