What Are We Looking For?

“What are you looking for?”
Let me rephrase that: What are we looking for?
Over the last week, many of us have been looking for answers to the horrible event in Arizona. Answers to questions like, “Why?” “How could this have prevented?” and “What is wrong with this country?” During the last unsettling eight days, I noticed, and I hope that you did also, a rumbling, a stirring, maybe a whisper, of calls to right action, to put things right. Most notable to me were Jim Wallis’ call to transcend politics in response to violence; the First Lady’s call to service, inviting us to emulate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and speak out against poverty, injustice and violence; the President’s speech at the memorial service at the University of Arizona, which was actually praised by some of his detractors; the calls by many, many, more, famous and not, to stop the bickering, stop the hate, and come together. Finally, there was a comment posted on iTunes by a young person in a review he posted about the 1979 film, Jesus:
“Man, if people just went by a few of his teachings, we wouldn’t be duckin’ all the time!”
And for those who asked, “Where was God in all this, or what would Jesus do?” I say, God was present, God received those who died in his loving embrace to live another life apart from ours, God opened the hearts and eyes of many to begin a dialogue of unity, sanity and reconciliation – we only pray that it continues until love is the answer, and not violence, when it comes to resolving differences.
And Jesus? What we’ve lived through is nothing new to him.
Jesus was born and lived in times more violent than ours. Israel was occupied by a foreign empire that sucked the life and taxes out of it – people struggled to exist and live through adversity and they undoubtedly thought they had lost favor with God. There were people, however, who looked for answers and wondered about life and their relationship with God, and they nurtured and kept alive the hope that began with Abraham and Moses as they waited for the Messiah. They flocked to teachers who stirred up that hope and kindled a flame for the Kingdom of God. John was one of those, and as he gathered his disciples to him on the banks of the Jordan River, he called them to repent and return to God. More and more people looking for answers, searching for a relationship with God, came to him. But he wasn’t who they thought he was – he wasn’t the anointed one. He told his followers that the one they were searching for would come and was already among them and He would restore the people of Israel to God.
John turned seekers toward Jesus, too. When Jesus walked by, John pointed him out to two of his own disciples, Andrew and another, and told them to follow.
And so they did. Following in this sense of the word meant a commitment to discipleship. But in this instance, not yet. Jesus, who didn’t miss a thing, turned to these two future apostles and says:
“What are you looking for?”
Rather than state the obvious, they response to the question with a question. Their answer is just strange – perhaps they were taken off guard that he actually noticed them, or they were nervous or tongue-tied – we’ve all been there, right? The moment when someone you open your mouth and the wrong thing comes out as you try to impress the new boss, a potential lover, your professor? These disciples ask, “Where are you staying?” If they had asked, “We’d like to know what you’re all about,” or “We want to join your movement,” and as a result got blunt answers and a glimpse into their futures, would they have followed? Instead, they ask a strange question. Jesus tells them, “Come and see.” It is gracious, simple, and it opens up new challenges, new possibilities and a new relationship with God for them. They went and saw; they spent the day with Jesus and later went to tell their family and friends about what they had done, who they had met. Our community, our Church, began with this invitation that was extended generation to generation, down to us.
“What are you looking for?” Jesus asks us.
Even today, especially today, we have curious seekers of the truth and light, looking for meaning in their lives and to events that we cannot understand. When you and I ask, “what are we looking for?” Jesus turns to us and says, “Come and see.” He states no conditions, no regulations, no two-year contract or small print at the bottom of a rapidly moving screen.
And so we come to Jesus, and we look for and we see in Christ a life as it should be for all of us. We are given hope, unconditional love and the promise of eternal life through our belief and faith. With these, we have the means to bring harmony and love to our communities, to the world.
We are children in and of the Kingdom, called by Christ to grow and change, to be living examples of our baptismal covenant: to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves, and to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.
Can you imagine a life as wonderful as that? Can you imagine an entire world like that?
“Come and see,” he says, and we say.
You and I are called to extend that simple and gracious invitation to those searching. We are invited to call to them and say, come stand in the light that dispels the darkness, come and realize love, come be with sisters and brothers of like mind, come and help work for change, take right action, come help stop the violence, come to the Father and stand at this table, come and embrace the Word.
Come and see, for Christ invites you, and you are welcome.

A Light Shines so Very Brightly...

A light unlike any other shines brightly this morning. It isn’t a beam of winter sunlight like those crossing a floor, but a spark has been ignited, an ember smolders deep within, and I believe it has been struck within me, within you, and you – all of us. All that’s required is fanning the flame with love, trust and belief. That kindling comes from a sentence as simple and as powerful as they come:
“In the beginning was the Word.”
It has been said that the the Gospel of John, the prologue to which you have just heard proclaimed, is a summary of Christian life -- conversion, baptism, Eucharist and quest for higher spirituality. It is a revelation of the true identity of Jesus and his connection to God. It has been called an apologia written in a time when the Johannine community was divided over the question of Jesus’ divinity. Or it is all of these.
This prologue continues the mystery and beauty of the Christmas story. We are invited to carry that mystery and beauty with us during the rest of the year, to move out of the dark spaces and corners in our lives towards the light that embraces, offers grace. John’s poetic language tells us that God wanted to lift us out of darkness so very much, that he did something deities and monarchs rarely do – God climbed off whatever throne we frail humans planted him on, and came down to our level. What’s even more amazing is that when God arrived, it was in the form of a helpless infant, born to common, yet uncommon people, and as he grew into manhood he experienced the joys, sorrows and delights of your average first century Galilean -- and inconceivable pain.
Why? Why did this extraordinary incarnation happen?
The obvious answer is atonement for humanity’s imperfect nature and actions, to bring us closer to God.
Here’s a better answer.
Love.
God loves us and went to a great deal of trouble to show us how it is to love perfectly and completely and it was done in the form of Jesus, who is our light dispelling darkness.
I used to call the days after Christmas Day the dark time. This started when I was a little girl and continued until I began to understand the difference between darkness and light where it concerns God.
Why did I call it the dark time? Christmas was over – Christmas trees were kicked to the curb; gone were the shiny decorations, the bright, colored lights, the fake snow in a can, the Glass Wax snowflake stenciling on the windows, the endless carols on the radio stations – the happy season of peace on earth and good will towards all was torn off the block of calendar sheets for another three hundred and sixty four days. It seemed to me, and this is my humble and personal observation, that the smiles on the faces people from Thanksgiving to Christmas, that look of expectancy, the sounds happy greetings and optimism, faded and people looked grim, worried, preoccupied – again.
The dark time was upon my world.
But, like so many other times in my life, I was dead wrong.
No, it is really a time of light; it started with the story of a child born in a manger, and continues with healing, of power beyond belief, a fullness of being, of humanity receiving grace upon grace and to be blessed with the gifts God has bestowed upon us through Jesus. Unfortunately, there were and are those who for whatever reason cannot recognize that Jesus is the light of the world and rejected the man and the message. But to those who accept him, then and now, and that is to say, put their trust in him, and made a commitment to the Word, a deeper relationship is formed with Jesus; he becomes our brother, and therefore, we become children of God.
Whatever darkness may envelop the world, whatever gloomy clouds may hang over us in our own lives, it cannot dim the light. We have grace from God to keep the light going. The smallest gesture of kindness, act of compassion, or work of mercy will light up the life of someone else, and in turn, will light up the world.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."
With Christmas, we embark on a journey in light towards light. I invite you, my sisters and my brothers, to keep the candle in your hearts and souls burning after the merchants and high rises have packed away the decorations and silenced the carols for another year. Let every day be Christmas in your hearts. In just a week, we will embark on a new year with new possibilities, new hopes and dreams. As with every New Year there is a fresh canvas before us, waiting for us to apply the first brush stroke. Do we want to live in light and experience the love and grace offered to us, follow a path of endless possibilities in a life in Christ, or is it going to be business as usual with grim, set, faces, preoccupied with matters that we have no control over and live in a dark time?
Come, let’s dispel the darkness and walk in the light that is our brother the infant in the manager, the man walking in Capernaum, in the Temple, and our savior on the Cross.

You Can't Park that Hummer in Heaven, My Friend...

The Kingdom of Heaven is a place where equality is and always will be. There are no barriers due to class, color or gender. All are loved and respected. Friends, do you believe that such a kingdom is within our reach, or is here and now?
I believe that it is within our grasp, and we have the means to make it tangible and real. We don’t have the extreme class divisions like those in the first century – oh, we have divisions aplenty, and they are visible, but today we have hope and opportunities to change our conditions. Unlike the poor today, Lazarus would not have been allowed to rise above his class even if he had been given purple cloth to wear instead of sores, or have a medical plan that offered antibiotics instead of a dog to wash his wounds. Nor would he have had a chance at a lottery for a bed in a local shelter rather than sleeping outside the Rich Man’s gate, or counselors to help teach new job skills..
The message we have this morning is a continuation of the themes we’ve heard over the past few weeks – coveting and hoarding wealth is not the way to earn points with God. God loves you, but don’t think for a minute God likes how you’re living large. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty are evident in society, but the wealth and richness of Christ’s good news are the treasures we should hold on to, as well as sharing what we have. As we have heard, “what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God.”
Now we all need money – it gives us the necessities of food, shelter, clothing, livelihood. Poverty can destroy one’s soul. But if we have the Gospel to live by, and we have the love of God through Christ, we have the foundation for the life that is true life, don’t you think? A bit simplistic, but Jesus asks us, and we are reminded every time we come to his table, that love is paramount, that we love one another as he loves us. Nothing simple in that message.
Two of the baptismal charges are that we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves and to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. The Rich Man didn’t have these, but he did have the words of Moses and the prophets to live by. Had he used his resources wisely for the benefit of the community, had he honored an obligation expected of him to the poor and oppressed, his end would have been different. The Rich Man did not grasp that his lack of compassion toward Lazarus was against the will of God. The tables turned on him. Lazarus did not earn his place in the hereafter, but received compensation for the misfortune and misery that was his earthly life and were beyond his control. We know what his life was, and we can guess what his needs were: clothing, shelter, food, medicine, companionship, what we know as basic necessities, and yet, they were denied him.
The Rich Man had needs too – he needed to serve his brother Lazarus, to experience a life that was a true, real life and one that he might have shared with people like Lazarus. But, in failing to recognize that money is a root of all kinds of evil, and, in failing to recognize Lazarus as an equal, the Rich Man builds a chasm between them – and so he finds himself staring up at Lazarus with Abraham. And even then he wants to use Lazarus for a servant, to give him a drop of water on his tongue.
Jesus’ parable illustrates that there is something better for us and more real than those materialistic things we long for – the reality that we were not created in isolation, but to love and be loved; not to use one another, but to be partners in a world that has endless possibilities for equality and justice. We were created not to face one another across chasms that we make, but to build bridges.
This parable has immediacy. It is for all who have ears to listen. And as we listen, perhaps we wonder which character in the story fits us best.
Lazarus? We all have needs and longings.
The Rich Man? There is that acquisitive, materialistic tendency in our society that is almost hypnotic…
If we are anyone, I think, it would be the brothers. Still living, we have the benefit of hearing this parable and knowing history, and as its current audience, we can learn what is required of us.
There is hope in our lessons today.
For all the wealthy in the world who are like the Rich Man, there are people who take their wealth and invest it in projects that may turn out to be the earthen jars containing deeds to life for millions of people. Not too long ago, I rallied parishiones to combine our wealth and gave over seven thousand dollars to Episcopal Relief and Development’s “Gifts for Life” to benefit emerging communities throughout the world. We’ve also given generously in time, talent and currency to help our own community in Berkeley.
We have the hope that is the Word, the prophets, we have God in Christ.
All of us have a Lazarus outside our gates; someone who presents an opportunity for us to live up to our baptismal promises. How we respond will decide our lives here and in the hereafter. The choice is up to us; we can build bridges across class divisions or create chasms to keep us apart. We can choose to offer our love now and not wait for the after life.
The Kingdom of Heaven is here and now; look around you. It is a place where we all have a part helping people at the gates, in the shelters, in hospitals and homes, in the workplace: some ‘do’ the work and some ‘lead,’ and there are some who go back and forth, leading over bridges, repairing them if they must – I like to call those people deacons. But let me tell you, deacons are not lone rangers or God’s commandos solving the world’s ills alone and standing up to injustice and inequality like a super hero – we cannot be a faith community of one – it is a community of many, a community where the poor in their common cloth may sit down at the table with the rich in their purple, where we all drink from the same cup and share a loaf of bread, where all are truly welcome.
My friends, the Kingdom of Heaven is like that, and like this.

A Servant, But Not Servile...

Years ago, colleague at my secular job made a comment about my vocation that stuck, and comes back every now and then to remind me of who and what I am.

I was asked very innocently, but respectfully, when I explained that diakonos translated to 'servant' in Greek, someone who waited at tables. I went on to explain that the stole the deacon in the church wore, the Byzantine stole that is worn across the body and throw over the left shoulder and down the back could very well signify the towel Jesus wore when he washed the feet of his disciples on that last Thursday night, or it could be the draping of the cloak. Take a look at ancient illustrations of Jesus and paintings of him and you'll see what I mean - the drape of the cloak is similiar to our stoles. I could be wrong, but the comment always invites an interesting conversation.

The comment my friend made was, "Why do you want to be a servant? People walk all over servants, take advantage of them, they get lousy wages."

I replied that waiters made good tips, and that one could serve others and not be servile.

I've lived and grown into that model over the years.

I've had excellent role models - the deacons Stephen and Laurence are excellent examples. Stephen was the one of the first seven to be ordained by the early church and the ministry Christ gave to him is illustrated in the Book of Acts at Chapter 6, verse 1 and continuing into all of Chapter 7. Stephens preaches a powerful sermon, an apology of the infant church, and is stoned to death - the first post-resurrection 'martyr' recorded. Martyr in greek translates to 'witness,' and Stephen's powerful, eloquent, preaching, is a witness to his faith and the power of Jesus working in him. Over a hundred years later, another deacon, Laurence, one of the seven deacons of Rome who served the Pope, would also use his words as witness and received death in response. Laurence was asked by the prefect to Valerian to bring to him the treasures of the church in three days' time. Three days passed, and Laurence brought the poor, homeless and the sick before the prefect stating that they were the treasures of the church. His comment got him grilled, literally, and he reportedly said before he died, "Turn me over, for I am done on this side." Wit and compassion, conviction. Faith, power and fearless before one's detractors.

Not very servile traits.

One can serve and still hold one's convictions and be powerful, using the strength of Christ as one lives out the Gospel.

I try to every day.

Go in peace, dear one!

E+

Previously, in the Good News....

It’s low Sunday, but spirits are high – Jesus is risen and we are glad indeed. And here we are again to hear more of this marvelous story. Here’s a recap:
“. . . and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and the all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and the other women with them who told all this to the Apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. . .”
No idle tale, is it? And now the story continues from last week’s Easter gospel; it doesn’t end with a shadow on the beach, or a close up of a shroud in a grave as Hollywood gives us; the news spreads, the imperial government and its Temple collaborators get nervous, the excitement and joy builds. The story continues in the Book of Acts, Paul’s letters, the anonymous writings of first century Christians and not-so-anonymous persons, and in the lives of everyone who has heard the Good News and proclaimed it. The story has an epilogue, and we are it.
We are those who have not seen and yet, have come to believe. Jesus’ blessing on those who come to faith without the necessity of sight or touch is not a chiding of Thomas for his lack of faith at that moment, but an affirmation of the generations who have relied on the Word and Thomas’ actions for their faith.
Thomas is called the Doubter. He was bold to have stood before his friends and fellow disciples to say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Where did this come from? Was it that Thomas still didn’t get it, or was it grief, fear or shame taking up space in his heart and mind? His teacher and leader had been executed as a criminal, after all; perhaps he didn’t want to believe for fear of what it meant – crucifixion. Or, it was grief at the loss of someone he loved taking hold and putting him into denial. Perhaps all of the above. We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t with the others when Jesus first appeared to them – there’s no clue – but it begs the imagination, doesn’t it? He might have been going out for food for the rest, but what if he engaged in the work Jesus called him to, in full sight of Jesus' persecutors. Imagine Thomas saying, "Yes, you killed him! But it doesn't kill the message or the meaning! Here I am, doing exactly what he was doing! What are you going to do about it?"
But he is called Doubting Thomas and that nickname has become an appellation for those of us who steadfastly refuse to believe or take at face value what we cannot see.
Haven’t we all at one time, questioned what we’ve been taught or told, or seen, especially when the hour and the day are dark and feel without promise? When those moments come, God puts into play or reveals something that turns one from being faithless to faithful, something like the Resurrection. Remember Paul’s words to the Hebrews: “now faith is a well-grounded assurance of that for which we hope, and a conviction of the reality of things which we do not see.”
Faith requires that we who have not seen, believe. Belief that the Kingdom is here and now, belief that God is always with us.
God came to us in the form and blessing of Jesus. So many prophets came before Jesus claiming to be the Christ but they slipped away into obscurity, suffered ignominious deaths like Jesus. What made him so different?

He was who he said he was. He did what he said he was going to do. The resurrection of Christ gave new life to humanity, to those who believed. What was promised by Jesus in his teaching was and is being lived out. The apostles, the first followers of Jesus, proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom - what Jesus promised in his teachings and ministry was made true. The followers of Jesus live out the new commandment - that they love one another as Jesus loved them, and in attending to the needs of one another, what Jesus commanded was made tangible and real.

The apostles became the leaders of the movement and strived to live as they were taught, showing that “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great family of different people, living together, loving one another and all living in equality.” What Jesus demonstrated in his ministry was kept alive by the faith, belief and right action.

And this is where we come in.

We are now the disciples, called to keep the Good News in play, to keep the Word in our hearts and minds, and to keep it alive. How you and I do this depends on the gifts God has given each one of us, and how the Spirit moves within us.

We’re always looking for new ways to proclaim the Gospel, to tell the story, to keep it fresh and alive. Jesus walks with us every step of the way - sometimes we have to open our hearts and minds a bit wider to see him, get past our own wounds so that we can see his. No, we haven’t seen the five wounds except in artwork and in scripture, but we know they are real. Every time we say ‘peace be with you,’ Christ says it to us. And when I send people out at the end of the service to go in peace to love and serve the Lord, I mean it. Again, how you follow through is dependent on what you called to do.

It’s time for us to pick up our pens and continue the story. What will you write on the page? Perhaps it will be to say that you and I can see Jesus working in our lives and we are continually blessed by that grace - sight unseen.

Let’s show the world in thought, word and deed, that Christ is our Lord and our God – show the world that we believe.

Found!

Here we are at Joyful Sunday, Mothering Sunday, Refreshment Sunday, Rose Sunday – many names for a day whose readings give us much to rejoice about, especially our Gospel lesson: love, forgiveness and joy. The focus of the Gospel, however, is not a mother, but a father whose actions are contrary to his society’s traditions, as are the actions of his sons, and his response. Even the parable is revolutionary and disturbing for its time. Nor do I think the shock and awe of this story has worn off after so many centuries.

What would you do if you were sitting down to dinner with a few friends others thought unsavory or unsuitable - tax collectors, sinners, outcasts, to name a few - and the local authorities started to complain about your behavior, the people you associate with?

We know what Jesus would do – he would teach them, illustrate his actions, his message, and what the Kingdom of Heaven was all about, with a parable.

This story about the loving father taught the Pharisees and scribes that there was no either/or with God, nor with Jesus or the Good News he brought to us. Yet it was, and is still, difficult not to think in terms of black and white: good son or bad son, Pharisee or tax collector, saint or sinner. Fortunately, God doesn’t roll that way. In all of the lessons this morning, we hear how God works with, in and through us towards reconciliation and forgiveness, with love, and offers us new lives.

See what happens at the end of our story this morning.

A father responds with patience and love to both of his sons. He puts aside propriety and runs to greet his boy – patriarchs didn’t run in first century Judea; CEOs don’t run in the 21st century – Rather than wait at the house surrounded by family and servants, or with the Board of Directors in a conference room, and demand an explanation, and it darn well better be a pretty good explanation from the boy, the father welcomes his son home with an embrace. When his eldest son reacts negatively and with jealousy to the honor his brother receives, especially the party, and that fact that his brother is being treated as if he’s only been on a trip for the family business, the father goes out to him – again, patriarchs didn’t do that in first century Judea; do you think a CEO would go out to explain an interoffice memo to a line worker? – The father invites him to come in saying, “. . . you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” He also gives freely – to the youngest, he first gives an inheritance, then a robe, a ring and a party. To the eldest, he gives all that he has. No questions asked. No hesitation, no conditions.

This is how God responds to us. This demonstrates love and a willingness to forgive behavior that was unacceptable, and that God is willing to do the same. God is the father in this parable.

What I like about the story and you may agree with me here – or not – is that we have no ending. There’s no “and they all sat down to a fine meal and made merry and lived happily ever after.” It is left to us to decide what happens next, to think about what we’ve just heard and apply it to our own situations and lives – and isn’t that a way of God’s working in us? I would like to think that after the eldest brother got over the resentment and anger, he took a moment to reflect on the blessings in his life, on his family, and that he came around and welcomed his brother back and the relationship between them, and their father, was restored. Doesn’t this remind you of Joseph and his brothers, or Jacob and Esau? Or that fight you had with a parent, sibling, your lover? Your friend? After you came around, the initial moments of nervous conversation and confession were rough to the point of pain, but when you said, “I’m sorry, forgive me,” or you both said it at once, didn’t you just want to go out and celebrate?

Although the emphasis here is on love and reconciliation, there’s no denying that each of the players in this story is lost in some way. Both sons are lost - the youngest son for his bad choices and behavior, the elder son for his self-righteousness and anger, his jealousy. The father is lost by his society’s standards: he’s weak, a bit of a pushover, and he takes action out of love for his sons, rather than his standing in the community and as a patriarch. God is at work here and moves him towards forgiveness.

With this parable, Jesus takes us beyond a commentary on sin and righteousness to give us a sense of what it truly means to be in relationship to others and to the Lord. Yes, he socializes with tax collectors and sinners, but how glad will God be when those same people amend their lives because they have heard Jesus’ words and believed, they who were once lost, are now found? The dutiful son and the disobedient son, the Pharisee and the Savior, all are worthy of God’s love. The Kingdom of Heaven is like that!

We are all lost in some way - give us a garden to live in and we will disobey the simple rules on the gate and be evicted, offer us a covenant we’ll manage to break it, find a way to get out of it. Provide us with a Messiah – you know the rest.

But we are found, and that is more than enough reason to be joyful on this Sunday and every day. We are found, and it is through the prodigious, boundless, grace of God and love and the Good News of Jesus. And the parable we have just heard is not simply one of the best and well-crafted of stories, it is an illustration of what it means to be redeemed.

Here I am, Lord - now throw me one of those nets!

One of the few memories I have of my father is the morning he took me fishing. We sat on the end of the pier in Rodeo and he showed me how to bait the hook, cast the line – and wait. And wait. Oh, and wait some more. It was frustrating, just sitting there, though it was nice to watch the morning sun on the water, the barges coming in and out of the refinery wharf, the goats in the field across the road from the pier – I desperately wanted to keep those goats at a distance. So much preparation went into the adventure before we even left the apartment, that I thought surely we would come home with something to eat.

We did.

My father stopped by the market and brought home a can of tuna.

Fishing is hard work, an art form, and one needs a lot of patience and perseverance to succeed, and for the people of living around Lake Gennesaret, the location of this morning’s Gospel, it was their whole economy. A day coming up empty was discouraging to say the very least. We’ve just heard that it was here Jesus asks Simon to take him out in the boat so that he could teach the crowds gathering at the shore. After preaching, he asks Simon to go further out, into deeper water and drop the nets again. Simon knows Jesus – he came to Simon’s house and healed his Simon’s mother-in-law – Jesus can heal, can teach, preach, but can he fish? And yet Simon says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing; yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Simon does what is asked of him, perhaps in the midst of doubt, for his experience is that the lake is empty. As always, when it is least expected, the Lord provides with abundance, and the catch pulled in begins to break the nets and a second boat is called for. Simon cries out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” This response is not so much a confession of guilt, or moral failing, but an expression of awe to be in God’s presence, and to witness the working of such power and to receive the grace offered without condition. Jesus reassures Simon, James and John not to fear, for they will be bringing in a different catch soon – men and women to new life, using as bait the good news of the Gospel in Christ.

The lessons we hear during Epiphany call us to focus on a new direction to ministry – they focus on the actions of those who hear and respond to God’s call, and this is illustrated in the Gospel and in the Hebrew scripture this morning. The lessons speak to the unwilling, ever-cautious, if not fearful, evangelist in all of us. Standing at the shore and listening to Jesus’ message is one thing, but climbing into that boat and throwing the nets overboard and expecting a catch is another. Doubt of our abilities, lack of self-assurance, stint our efforts. Maybe it’s the need to keep the faith to ourselves, or the fear that no one will hear us, or think we’re something we’re not, or just think we’re crazy. Sometimes, when we tell people we’re Christian, they take two steps backward and nod slowly. Or, it could be one simple thing - maybe we think we’re not up for the task or the challenge. We're flawed, intemperant at times, selfish, just not what what we think God wants in a servant, someone to proclaim the Good News.

Here’s where Isaiah and Simon are our instructors.

Isaiah assumed he would perish gazing on the Lord, and voiced a profound sense of his own unworthiness in the presence of the Lord, and as a sinner, he expected to die. Once he has the assurance of God’s grace, he jumps at the chance offered, answers the Lord’s call. “Here am I! Send me!” He is prepared to deliver a disturbing, dark message to the people of Israel - anything but Good News.

And then, there’s Simon.

Simon is a flawed hero – he is a failure more times than not. He tries, he swings and misses, he fails and tries again, and again. He doesn’t get it at first, and he bolts at the worst of times – but he comes back. He’s pretty brave. He doesn’t let his shortcomings block God’s work, or muddy the Good News with his own interpretation. Despite all these flaws, Jesus loves him so much that he entrusts the church to his care, changes his name from Simon to Cephas – the rock. The foundation.

Do you and I have that courage? Are we brave enough to try and fail repeatedly until we get it right? Remember how it felt to say, “Here I am, Lord!” when you heard the call? Remember the elation, and then the dread? Wondering if you could follow through?

Let’s think about the invitation Jesus extends.

For Peter, it was walking away from everything he knew and loved, and the certainty of death. For we Christians today, I believe it is laid out in the New Commandment, to love one another as Christ loves us, in his instruction to the disciples that whenever we act in compassion towards another, we do the same for Christ, and in the baptismal covenant, five questions after the affirmation of God and Christ: Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

To each of these questions we are compelled to respond, “Yes, with your help, Lord! Here I am! Send me!” Easy enough to say, but sometimes a bit difficult to live into – no? Yes? But we are up for the challenge and equal to the task. We are asked to do something revolutionary for today’s society. We are asked to put God before all else, we are asked to love, we are asked to reach outside our comfort zones and what is safe, to make a lifelong commitment to love and service. Christians of all denominations are truly blessed with a wealth of gifts that address each of the five questions in the Baptismal covenant. It is a living and continuing proof that each of us, with our unique gifts, and by the grace of God, continue to say “Send me!” when the call comes, and go willingly when Christ says, “Come, put down the nets.”