Unholy Sh+t: Fishers of Men

I guess I was about eleven or so when our Sunday school class decided to do a cowboy-themed Christmas pageant. It was the traditional nativity story but western. Classic.

I auditioned for it but failed miserably due to having to cold read the lines, and being as I am dyslexic and couldn’t read, it didn’t go so well. They gave me the part of the bartender. I had a singular line: “howdy” when Joseph and Mary walked into the best little saloon in Bethlehem.

Though I didn’t get a starring role, it was a bit of foreshadowing because this wouldn’t be the last time I would serve up alcoholic beverages in a church. Believe it or not, my bishop never liked it when I called communion “serving up alcoholic beverages at church.” Oh well.

Unholy Sh+t: An Irreverent Bible Study

3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time

Today’s reading: Matthew 4:12-23

Sometimes we become so accustomed to a particular verse in the Bible that we miss the blatant meaning of it. It’s really not our fault; it’s because Sunday sermons have to be entertaining to keep butts in the seats, and so pastors will milk a verse for everything it’s worth. Once they’ve run that teat dry, they’ll just start adding stuff in for flavor. They’ve got to keep it exciting year by year (or 🎶day by day🎶 for all the theatre kids out there.)

That’s where we are today, on one of those overused verses.

We all know the story: Jesus is about to start doing all the healing and exorcisms and speaking in code about his impending doom and sh+t. Like any good epic journey tale: you need a crew. Frodo had Samwise, Gandalf, Merry, and Pippin. Robin Hood has the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest. Joe Cabot had Mr. Brown, White, Blonde, Blue, Orange (Judas), and Pink.

Following in the same classic narrative, Jesus begins with Simon (soon to be Pete) and his brother, Andrew, as the first catch. (Matthew 4:18-22 and Mark 1:16-20)

He calls them to follow him, and they cast down their fishnets (sexy) and become catchers of men (double sexy).

And before you can say “second breakfast,” the band has been assembled. Interestingly enough, because Judas couldn’t play any instruments, he was working merch and doing road management (John 12:4-6). Look how well that worked out.

Growing up, I always thought it was strange that Jesus just walked up and said, “follow me,” and they just drop everything they are doing and go for it. Maybe I’m a bit of a cynic, but I would have a couple of questions about benefits, vacation time, and profit-sharing in the book royalties before I just ran off with some smelly hippy. Then again, it worked well for Charles Manson, too, so maybe there’s just a type that goes for that sort of thing. Everyone is different, I suppose.

Such a simple phrase, “follow me,” and they drop everything. Why?

During the time of Jesus, all young men studied the Torah, but not everyone was called to be a rabbi. Around the age of 14 or 15, if you had proven yourself worthy, the time would come when the rabbi would choose disciples. Now, imagine when you were in high school, and you auditioned for the school play or whatever sports ball thingy you were interested in. You wait, hopeful, dreaming about the future. In your mind's eye, you are thanking the Academy or have just been selected for the NFL Draft. But everything hinges on you getting selected as Puck for this year's rendition of Midsummers Night's Dream. Then the day has finally arrived, and the cast or roster is being posted.

Not today.

Your dreams are dashed, and the next thing you know, high school is over, and you are now up to your eyeballs in fish guts wondering, “how did I get here?”

However, had you been selected, the rabbi would walk in and say, “lech acharai,” which is translated into English as “follow me.” This meant you were chosen to “walk in the dust of the rabbi” and train under him. If you didn’t hear these words, well, it was time to go onto the fallback career.

And that is precisely where Simon (soon to be Rocky) and Andrew were that day—grinding away at their unglamorous and smelly job. We know that Simon is older, married, and has been working at the job for a while (Luke 4:38-41). He was lightyears away from the good ol’ days in high school when he thought he would be selected for rabbi duty. But he probably still daydreams about it, just like we do about those little moments in our own lives when life went right instead of left.

Then Jesus the Rabbi walks right up to Simon, looks him in the eye, and says, “lech acharai.”

Imagine the validation. It would be like a casting agent walking in today and saying, “I know you got passed over for Juliet, but I see you, I hear you, I validate your worth and your talent.”

This is a radical thing Jesus is doing; he’s calling his disciples out of those who had been passed over. Those that had been considered not to be “the best of the best.” These are the people he chooses to build his new kingdom from, not the elite or selected but the second fiddles. These are the kids who had already been rejected, and Jesus is walking in and saying, “I choose you.”

That is why Simon and Andrew immediately drop what they are doing. Because they finally heard the words they had longed to hear years ago: you belong.

And that’s the good news, I suppose: that you’re always worthy, even if someone else didn’t see it back then.