Right Here, Right Away

 
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany, Year B, January 22, 2012

Jonah 3:1-5, 10  God changed [God’s] mind.
1 Corinthians 7:29-31  The present form of this world is passing away.
Mark 1:14-20  And immediately….

O God of good news, grant us the wisdom, the strength and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

This morning, I want us to notice that we have before us in our Gospel reading, Mark’s story of the beginning of Jesus’ ministry (we’re only 14 verses in to first chapter of the Gospel of Mark). After John was arrested, according to Mark, Jesus came out of the Judean desert and into the Galilee announcing that God’s realm was very near. Jesus’ instructions were the same as John’s: to repent, that is, turn around toward God. A complete re-orientation is what they were calling for. “Turn around, the God you are searching for is right behind you, loving you, supporting you!” Jesus began to assemble a team to help him spread this good news that there is an entirely different kind of kingdom – or realm – an entirely different way to be governed than the way the empire does it.

He saw Simon and Andrew casting a net. He saw James and John mending their nets. But before we talk about what might have made the two pairs of brothers drop everything to follow Jesus, I have to say that I’m particularly struck by the good news/bad news in the introduction to this passage. I grew up in a house where most announcements were prefaced with the statement: I have some good news and some bad news, which do you want first? (There was only one right answer – take the bad news first.) That’s what seems to be going on here: John (the Baptist) was arrested (that’s the bad news) and Jesus came to Galilee preaching (that’s the good news). For any of you who were taught to understand that the good news was something like “Jesus died for our sins” or “Jesus Christ was raised from the dead,” I have to say that, while that may be perfectly good news for some, it’s not the good news Jesus was talking about here at all. This is the good news that fear and oppression, the military and economic power of Caesar, the despair and indifference of many, doesn’t have to have the last word. This is good news that would make sense to people minding their own businesses and get them excited about spreading the that news – that word.

The summary of the word, the whole of Jesus’ message according to Mark, is what Jesus proclaims here: the time is full or complete or fulfilled and the realm of God approaches; change your mind (and your behavior). Stop relying on whatever the empire calls ‘good news’ and rely on the good news of God.” The Greek words here are so heavily associated with the Roman empire – the word for kingdom and the word for good news are words that Caesar used. So to my ears, this is clearly an anti-imperial proclamation, subverting the empire. God’s good news is freedom from oppression, enough to eat for everyone who is hungry. God’s good news is dignity and grace abounding. Turn around – repent – and see or believe in the possibility of dignity and grace abounding. Start acting accordingly.

If you were to read the Gospel of Mark from beginning to end (it’s not that long… only about 20 pages) I bet you would notice the breathless pace of Mark’s storytelling. In fact, it’s even faster – and more spare – in the original Greek.  The word that here gets translated as “immediately,” [euthos] appears 42 times. The eu part of the word has to do with goodness, wellness and has moral undertones. Think “right away” which conveys a sense of closeness in timing and uses the word right with its allusions to being morally sound, correct, and decent. The word can also be used to mean directly, open, frank, without reserve. Mark uses it over and over and over in his story about Jesus and his followers. He’s talking about what came next, and after that, and after that in terms of both timing and a sense of goodness.

Perhaps his emphasis on goodness – on rightness – in this story is because fishing is and always has been hard work that is not particularly highly regarded as a profession by others. The Roman philosopher Cicero wrote to his sons that “the most shameful occupations are those which cater to our sensual pleasures: ‘fish-sellers, butchers, cooks, poultry-raisers, and fishermen,'” (Cicero, On Duties 1.42) According to K.C. Hanson, “there was an ancient Egyptian observation that the fisher was ‘more miserable than any [other] profession.’”[1] Added to the low-esteem in which fishers were held was the fact that after paying for the ability to fish (the Romans sold and enforced fishing licenses), after paying the hired help if your family wasn’t large enough to staff a boat, after paying the taxes on the haul of fish, and maintaining the boat and the nets, fishers were lucky to be able sustain their families. Roman taxes and tolls placed an extremely heavy burden on peasants in ancient Palestine. Also, fishing is and always has been dangerous work. Storms can take away everything.

When I visited the Sea of Galilee five years ago, I learned something that I’d never understood before. Fishing on the Sea of Galilee happens (and has always happened) at night when the fish can’t see and escape the nets! For millennia, fishermen have gone out at night, thrown their nets over the side of the boat again and again, hauling in fish (if they were lucky), and have come in to shore in the morning to sell their fish and wash and mend their nets by the springs that feed into the Sea. Nighttime on the Sea of Galilee is pitch black even now, with only the moon and stars for light when there is no cloud cover. Storms can be fierce and deadly. Nevertheless, fishing was what Simon, Andrew, James and John knew and did. And the story is that Jesus called them from their casting and their mending – Jesus called them while they were at work. They were not at the synagogue worshiping; they were not at home eating; they were not asleep and dreaming.  They were at work.

I’m going to tell you two things about this story occur to me. The first is what this story illustrates about how and where Jesus works. It reminds me of the Maine joke in which a traveler asks for directions, and the response is, “ahhhh, you cahnt get theyah from heeyah.”  That is never Jesus’ response. To get to experience the realm of God, Jesus wants his followers to start from wherever they are. There are no auditions or interviews or future meeting dates in other places. They are hard at work. Jesus wants them to follow him starting immediately – and they do!  The second thing is the way that Jesus sees the skills that these four fishermen have and knows that those exact skills can be applied to spreading the good news of God’s goodness and of all of the possibilities in the midst of the problems of poverty and oppression. He sees them casting and mending, working the nets, and says, “Come with me. I’ll show you the dignity of networking!” You can start where you are, be who you are, and use what you know to spread the good news. (And remember, Jesus doesn’t only call fishermen.)

But hear this, busy people of Emmanuel: Jesus doesn’t say, “I see you’re really busy, but there’s one more thing you need to be doing.” Rather, Jesus calls Simon and Andrew, James and John, and the others, to stop what they’re doing and try on a new way of being in the world – not an easy way, but surely an amazing way. The story then, and the story now, is that Jesus doesn’t work alone. Jesus needed the hands and the hearts of people like Simon and Andrew, like James and John. He wanted their love for himself, sure, but what he was really after was their love for all people. He wanted them to think and look and move beyond their own small boats.

You know, a lot gets made of the idea that these four fishers left their work right away to follow Jesus – and maybe that is a big deal – but actually, they didn’t seem to leave fishing and the sea completely and they didn’t leave forever. They continued to have experiences fishing and traveling across the Sea of Galilee by boat while learning from Jesus. And in the last part of the Gospel of Mark, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome encounter a young man at the tomb who tells them that the Risen Lord will meet his disciples back in the Galilee. They never stopped fishing on the sea – they just learned to work together in an entirely new way and for a greater purpose.

It may be that this story set in a Galilean fishing village has little to do with our stories set at a church in a Back Bay shopping village. None of us fishes for a living. (Well, I kind of do.) And yet, the narrative – the meta narrative – of our tradition is that Jesus calls each one of us by name. This story may be teaching us that to experience the realm of God and to spread the good news, we must start where we are – in our work, our responsibilities, our daily existence. We are invited to re-examine our own work – re-examine our daily routines, to move beyond or through our many fears, and imagine new possibilities. We are invited to abandon the smallness of our own little boats, or whatever constructs keep each of us from spreading good news of dignity and grace, to those who experience little of it. We are invited to seek other venues and work together in entirely new ways. We are invited to use the skills we already have to deliver the good news that God loves each and every one without measure and God needs each and every one to love without measure. We are invited to stop doing whatever keeps us from building a loving community. We are invited to know that Love is a healing and reconciling force in the world and that Love needs each and every one of us to be a healing and reconciling force in the world. And today is a great day for us to begin again – right here, right away.

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