Jonah 3:1-5,10
Psalm 62:5-12
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20

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The Gospel according to Mark 1:14-20

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.

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"What did this preacher say?" I asked.

"Not much," he said. "That’s probably the strangest thing about it. He didn’t say much at all, just, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’ He said it almost like a chant: ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’"

"Who’d he say this to?" I asked.

"He said it to all of us, to everyone," a third man broke in. "We were all out fishing, but close to the shore. The wind was down, and we could all hear him." Then he repeated, as if it were a song he had tried to get out of his mind but couldn’t, "‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’ Then, while we were all working the nets, pulling in fish, he said, ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’"

I wasn’t annoyed any more. I was fascinated. "Then what happened?" I asked.

"Then," said the first man, "then . . . then," he said, staring into the fire and taking a breath, "then, they —Simon and Andrew — they just dropped their nets and went with him. And then he went down to where James and John were fishing, and then they dropped their nets and just left their father in the boat with the hired hands and then they — followed him too."

These men that I was being told had just dropped their nets in the middle of the day and followed some stranger were men I had known since boyhood. They, like I, had practiced the art and the discipline of fishing all of their adult lives. These men were part of the brotherhood. They were not men to just drop their nets and leave. Nets are not just dropped and left. I was owed some explanations. "Followed him to where?" I asked. "For how long? When will they come back? Why would they do that?"

"We don’t know," the second man said. "We don’t know the answers to any of your questions, and we are aware of how crazy it sounds. But you want to hear something even crazier? Before you came, we were discussing whether we should have gone too.

My look must have spoken volumes. "I know, I know," he said. "It sounds insane. But you have to have seen this guy, been in his presence. I can’t explain it, but we all admitted that there was something about him, something . . . extraordinary . . . that made you think that our lives as fishermen were suddenly . . . small, and . . . insignificant, and . . . fleeting, and . . . meaningless. And somehow (I don’t really know how) he made you think that going with him would be part of an adventure, part of an enterprise that was . . . huge, and important, and lasting, and meaningful. And he made you think that this was the time that you had to decide, to make a choice: ‘The time is fulfilled.’ Before you came up, we all admitted that we almost did it."

I probably can’t explain how disorienting this was. I had left for one day, and when I returned, this community which was at the center of my world had been utterly changed. The predictability — of action, of motivation — that we had known all our lives, that we had relied on, had been shattered. I was aware that I had missed something that would change them forever. But I was also aware that I didn’t want to lose them; they had gone to a place that I had never been, and I didn’t want to be left behind. "So, help me understand," I asked, "why didn’t you go?"

Now others chimed in. It was easier for them to articulate why they hadn’t gone than to talk about why they had been tempted. "I don’t like preachers," one said, "don’t listen to ‘em." Another said, "He said, ‘The kingdom of God has come near. Place looks the same to me." Then, as if to himself, he said, "When I saw the look in their faces as they left, I did wonder whether it might look different if you followed him, but I can’t take that chance."

Another, a quiet man who had been raised in a very strict home and rarely spoke, said, "He kept calling it ‘the good news.’ I understand how God is about discipline and commitment and sacrifice, but I can’t get God being about ‘good news.’ This guy’s attitude was like he was inviting us to a celebration. That can’t be God."

Another said, "Well, maybe you heard it that way, but what I heard was him telling us all that we needed to ‘repent.’ Just who is he to tell me that? Like everybody needs to change. Where does he get off?"

Another man, one known for his practical outlook, said, "He told us to ‘believe.’ ‘Believe in the good news,’ he said. Good news? What is that? Words, ideas, nothin’. I’ll tell you what I believe in," he said, his voice rising. "I believe in what’s in my nets. I believe in fish that I can see and touch. But I’ll tell you this: I don’t believe in them until they are in the boat. In the boat."

The men around the circle, who had known this man all their lives, smiled tiny smiles. Another man, emboldened, spoke: "I’ll tell you what I didn’t like," he said. "I didn’t like the high pressure sales pitch. ‘The time is fulfilled,’ make up your mind, and do it now! Well, mister stranger," he was working himself up to a sarcastic crescendo, "well, mister ‘follow me right now,’ what if it isn’t convenient for me to follow you right now? What if I have a life, have you ever thought of that? What if I’d like to think about this, and weigh my options, and consider the pros and cons, and make this decision like a reasonable person would, did you ever think of that?" He looked at the faces in the circle, "I don’t mind telling you: I might want to followed him some day. I really might, when it makes sense to do it. But I’ll tell you this, I’ll do in on my schedule, not his."

The circle grew quite. Finally I said, "So, it sounds to me like you have some pretty good reasons why you didn’t do something that sounds crazy from the get-go anyway, so why are you even thinking about whether you should have gone?"

The second man spoke again. "I tried to explain it, but I can understand why you can’t get it. I think you just have to have been in his presence for it to make sense."

Of course, I didn’t like that answer. It excluded me. Wanting things to return to normal, I asked, "So, when do you think they’ll come back?"

They looked at one another around the circle. Their eyes reached agreement without a word being spoken. "That’s just it," the second man said, appointing himself spokesperson, "we don’t think they’ll ever come back."

We sat in silence for a long time. The fire died out and the darkness closed in. Finally, men started to rise. "Well, better get home." "Yeah, better get home." "See you tomorrow. Fish to catch." "Yeah, tomorrow. Fish to catch." And then we dispersed into the darkness, all of us, I’m convinced, feeling an emptiness we couldn’t explain.

That’s the end of the story of The Other Fishermen. This morning Jesus calls you, for the first time, or for the thousandth time, to follow for the first time, or to follow more closely, with more of your being, for the thousandth time. And we will always have very good reasons not to follow, or not to follow now.

That’s the end of the story of the Other Fishermen. I hope it’s not the end of your story.

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