Sr. Grace Remington
5th Sunday of ordinary time
Luke 5:1-11
I
love the images in today’s gospel. Jesus so pressed in by the crowds that he takes
to the water. Everyone lined up along
the shoreline as he teaches from the boat.
What did he tell them? The tired
fishermen, the catch of fish, Peter saying to Jesus “Leave me Lord, for I am a
sinful man.” There is always something
so poignant about these words. Here is
Peter who had, after a night of hard work with nothing to show, in the midst of
cleaning his nets so he could go home and sleep, agreed first to take this dusty
preacher out in his boat, listened to him talk, then, when asked to re-dirty his
nets for “one last try” said “I don’t really want to, and I don’t think it will
do any good, but if you want me to, ok.” And did it. He seems like a pretty good man to me. But Peter, struck by the dawning recognition
of who this man is, or at least the
recognition that he was in the presence of holiness, is only aware of his
sinfulness. And it is from this stance
that he receives Jesus’ words “do not be afraid, I will make you and your friends
fishers of men.” His words are not
simply for Peter but for James and John, and for all his disciples, for us.
Whenever I the line “fishers of men”
I forget that these fishermen used nets.
All of my fishing experience is with using a hook, so that’s the image
that pops into my head. A hook is that thing
we can’t let go of, which allows us to be pulled in. They talk about hooks in music ---a hook is a
musical phrase or beat that stays in your head and makes your mind go back to
the song over and over, the little bit you remember when you can’t remember any
other words to the song and makes you want to play it again and again. Then,
once you’re playing the song over and over, you might start to notice the rest
of the words. When it comes to fishing for people, I think mercy is the hook. It is the hook of the gospel as Pope Francis knows
so well. Mercy hooks the human heart,
and then we start to listen to the rest of the gospel’s song. It is mercy that
hooked me.
Even with a hook and line there are
different ways of fishing. Sometimes
you cast out far, letting your hook drop in some far off pocket that looks like
it may be harboring a few hungry mouths.
Maybe this is what we do when we pray for the people and places where
there is great suffering, when we wish for mercy for some soul who is too far
away for us to see or touch, but who we know is out there – for refugees, for
bullied kids, for criminals serving life sentences in our prisons. Sometimes you trawl – just rowing along and
letting your hook drift behind you as you go, just to pick up whoever you might
pass by. Perhaps this is the kind of
fishing we do when we offer a smile in passing, quietly make the coffee someone
has forgotten to make or clean up the crumbs someone has left behind without a
fuss, leaving behind us an atmosphere of mercy with the words we use, or even
just by the thoughts we think. Sometimes
when you fish you just let the hook dangle, to catch those who come up to you, close
enough to nibble on your toes. We’ve
probably all experienced the gift of having someone respond to our anger or
pain or fear with mercy – the kind of mercy that doesn’t even ask to be
recognized as mercy because it seems to not to even recognize our fault. It is like we are being let off the hook of
our bad behavior, and this in itself hooks us.
This is the mercy that chooses out of all the interpretations that we can
put on another’s words or actions, to give it the best one.
But as much as I would like to be a
fisher of souls, I know too well that sometimes I can try all night without
having a single thing to show for it. Sometimes
my best attempts meet with failure, my skill is mediocre at best, and I grow
weary of trying. It is all too easy to just
decide to call it a day. But it is Jesus
who will provide the catch, not me. My
job is to keep casting, to keep trawling, to keep letting out my line even when
I see no results. When I get discouraged
with myself because I think that I am not a good fisher, and Jesus says “lower
your nets for a catch,” I may think, “It is no use Lord. I have tried.
I have failed. It is too hard to
keep on trying.” Yet I do not need to
say, “but if you ask it Lord” for I know this is what he asks of me. “Lower the nets!” “Cast out the line!” “Let out mercy’s hook.” This is what he asks us, and the catch is up
to him.
And in this I experience God’s mercy
– that he chooses to get in my boat even though I am not a great fisherman, even
though I am a sinner, that he lets me fish with him. It is only from the stance of our own need
for mercy that we are called to be fishers. All we have to offer is what we
have received. Pope Francis says the real poor are those who
refuse to see themselves as such. It is
only when we recognize our own poverty that we can be rich in mercy. It is only in knowing our need for mercy that
we can recognize the gift. This is the
mercy that hooks me – I may be sinful,
but Jesus is set on having me. I may try
to let him off the hook by saying “leave me Lord” but by his mercy he has
hooked his heart on me.
