Sermon: It is good for us to be here. (Feb 27, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. Gospel reading begins at 32:00.

Transfiguration (year C)
February 27, 2022
Luke 9:28-43a

INTRODUCTION

We have reached the end of the season of Epiphany, the season of light, and we’re literally going out in a burst of light! Always this last Sunday of Epiphany, and the last Sunday before we begin the descent down the mountain and into Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent, we hear the story of the Transfiguration, when Jesus invites three disciples up to the top of a mountain, and before their eyes his clothes become dazzling white and his face shines like the sun. It is a moment of pure glory and splendor! It is also a hinge point between Jesus’ ministry, and when he turns his face toward Jerusalem and the cross. Glorious as it is, we mustn’t forget what comes next! Jesus and his disciples will walk down the mountain, and back into the messiness of the world.

Of course, the other readings will support this featured story of the day. We’ll hear about how Moses, too, had some mountaintop moments with God that left him shining so brightly that the people couldn’t look at him when he came down unless he wore a veil. And in Corinthians, Paul will use this story about Moses to help us see how things have changed for us because of Christ.

It is a bright Son-shiney day! As you listen, bask in the glory of it all, and also think about the moments in your life when you have truly experienced God’s glory, keeping in mind that such moments might not always be so obviously bright as the stories we hear today – but they are no less glorious! Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

On Thursday, the day Russia invaded Ukraine, my family went out to Mexican food. With the rest of the world, our hearts were heavy, but we were embracing the things we love and giving thanks. There were some TVs on in the bar, near where we were sitting, and a couple of them were showing scenes of Ukraine. Six-year-old Grace noticed them and asked us about them. She had overheard us talking that week about impending war, and asked if that was it. We were honest with her about what was happening, and she was very concerned. She worried we weren’t safe, and that she might have nightmares that night about this. Michael and I did our best to comfort her, showing her on a map how far away Ukraine is. We assured her we are safe, that daddy, as a member of the State Guard, won’t have to go and fight, and that she is loved. These are conversations no one wants to have with a 6-year-old.

And yet, it was good for us to be there. It was good for us to be together, eating too much queso and too many chips, with one another, sharing our griefs and our fears and our love. And that night at bedtime, also sharing our prayers – as Grace led a prayer for peace and safety for the people of Ukraine. It was good for us to be there.

I always want to linger on this line of Peter’s in the story of the Transfiguration. Peter often gets a bad rap for his quickness to speak and act before he has really thought things through. But this, this was the perfect thing to say. “It is good for us to be here.” It is good to see God’s brightness shine, to witness God’s glory from the front row, to gain a sense of Jesus’ place in a long history of God’s salvific action. It is good for us to be here!

There is always the decision to make on this Sunday: whether to read only the Transfiguration story and stay in that place, maybe even to build some dwellings like Peter goes on to suggest so that we can live forever in God’s glorious light…. Or, to include also the next story, about Jesus heading back down the mountain, looking perfectly un-shiny, where he is immediately met with a desperate father and his very sick son. I admit, it is tempting to stay on the mountain, basking in God’s glory, rather than head back down, into the valley with all its pain and fear and sadness. 

And yet at this moment in history, it feels all the more important to hear about Jesus heading back down the mountain. Back to be with the Ukrainian people taking shelter in subway stations, and those fleeing into Hungary on foot. Back down, to empower the Russian citizens who are standing up to an oppressive regime and saying, “This is not what we want!” putting themselves at great risk to do so. Back down the mountain to be with families with trans kids in Texas, and LGBTQ+ kids in Florida. Back to be with the family who lost someone to Covid, and the man estranged from his son, and the woman who just received the dreaded diagnosis. Jesus heads back down the mountain to be with and serve you. And me.

And you know what? When Jesus does this, he does not leave his glory on top of the mountain. He brings all that glory and power right down with him. Only the shine has left Jesus, but the Jesus who remains, who walks back down the mountain with the stunned disciples – that Jesus is still very much God with them. The man who meets this desperate father where he’s at, and hears his cries, and sees the brokenness he lives with – that man, Jesus – is still very much God with them, and with all of us in our pain, and he’s no less glorious. And it is good for us to be here!

You see – we might think that Jesus and the disciples left God’s glory on the mountain to re-enter a world that is largely without such glory. But God’s glory is never apart from the broken world. It just looks different. While God’s glory was certainly more apparent on that mountaintop, and is also in a stunning sunset and a magnificent anthem, we also know that God’s glory is most profoundly expressed through a man hanging broken and bloody on a cross. Yes, that is our glorious God, who shows up in the brokenness of this world – in the cries of a desperate father and his ailing son, in the sound of bombs falling, in our fear and uncertainty, in our shattered hopes and dreams. 

It is important that these two stories appear side by side: shiny Jesus on a mountaintop, and desperate father in a valley. Yes, a part of me wants to read only the Transfiguration story by itself, and bask in that dazzling brightness, and build a house to stay there forever – aaaand maybe ignore, at least for a while, that there is brokenness and pain and the possibility of World War III just down the mountain. 

But it can’t be ignored. So this week, I’m thinking about holding these two pictures of glory – the bright one and the broken one – one in each hand. Holding them together. And using the one to help us understand the other. Having seen that brightness on the mountaintop – this mountain, or any number of similar experiences we have had in our own lives – we are better equipped to seek out that light elsewhere, to find it in the cracks we will encounter day to day. Thanks to the mountain, we know what to look for. We can trust that God’s glory is everywhere – after all, if it can show up on a cross, why not in the pains of our own lives? Why not in Ukraine? And so, if we can carry the memory of that glory down the mountain with us, maybe we will know better how to find it.

To bring it close to home, last week, our new Mom Group met for the second time. It has so far been a wonderfully life-giving time of genuine connection, authenticity, and love. One thing we talked about, inspired by the book we’re reading, was seeing ourselves as broken vessels, flawed women trying dearly to raise kids who are loving, healthy, and faithful. We took turns thinking of moments where we were all too aware of our cracks and flaws, and then noticed how God was able to shine through them. That’s God’s glory, friends. And as we shared, I felt the air around us get less heavy. I felt God’s love infuse the conversation. That’s God’s glory! And it is good for us to be there.

As Jesus walks down that mountain today and heads toward Jerusalem, so do we, as we gather this week on Ash Wednesday to face our mortality, and continue to walk alongside Jesus toward another mountain where he will be crucified… and glorified. Our Lenten theme this year is called, “You are here.” It is an exploration of place, and finding God in whatever place we find ourselves. Sometimes that place is obviously glorious, shining, stunning, impressive, like the mountaintop. Sometimes, that place is broken and crying out, like a desperate father in the valley. Sometimes God’s glory is found hanging on a cross. My prayer is that whatever place or places we find ourselves in during Lent, we will profoundly know God’s glorious presence there with us, shining through in the cracks of our humanity, and alighting our hearts. 

Let us pray… Glorious God, your brightness fills the sky, and it also fills the cracks and brokenness in our lives. Now that we have seen your glory and splendor, open our eyes to seeing it all around us, in the magnificent and the mundane, in the wonderful and in the wounded. For you are God-with-us everywhere, holy and glorious. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Image attribution: JESUS MAFA. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=48307 [retrieved February 27, 2022]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr (contact page: https://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr/contact).

Sermon: Forgiveness is a process (Feb. 20, 2022)

Full service HERE.

Epiphany 7C
February 20, 2022
Genesis 43:3-11, 15
Luke 6:27-38

INTRODUCTION

More difficult words from Jesus today. As a reminder of what’s happening, Jesus is still giving his sermon on a level place. He’s just finished all those blessings and woes that felt so good to hear last week (ahem), and now, for those who have stuck around after that, he goes on to offer some of the most well-known and most difficult teachings in the Bible: love your enemies, pray for those who abuse you, turn the other cheek, judge not lest you be judged, forgive as you’ve been forgiven. He is describing what that life is like on this level place, this place that reflects God’s vision for the world. And friends, it ain’t easy!

It also ain’t new. Our first reading is a part of the stunning conclusion of the Joseph Story. Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob, and despised by his brothers, who sold him into slavery and told their father he was dead. He was brought to Egypt, and a wild turn of events has landed him a position second only to the Pharaoh himself! Joseph, you see, was able to interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams, and anticipate and prepare for a seven-year famine across the land. When Joseph’s brothers show up at his doorstep, asking for help enduring the famine, he recognizes them, but they don’t recognize him. He has a little fun with them, but eventually he reveals his identity. And that’s the part we will hear today. 

These lessons may be well-known, but they are not easy! There will surely be something in today’s readings that really leaves a pit in your stomach. Let it, my friends. That is the Spirit trying to tell you something. Listen to those urgings of the Spirit. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Well, I thought the part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Level Place that we heard last week was difficult! Here, it gets even more difficult, as Jesus describes what life looks like when we take the previous blessings and woes seriously, when we really do strive to level the playing field and love the way God loves. And he does not simply say, “Go to church, put something in the offering plate, and pray for your family and friends.” Nope, Jesus urges us to do things that go against our sensibilities and our self-protecting tendencies, even things that offend us, things that would make it seem like we are doormats, ready to let bad things happen without accountability.

And perhaps the most difficult teaching of all, tucked in there at the end is this: “Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” I’m not sure we’d like to admit that this is the most difficult, because we know that forgiveness is such a big part of our faith. It’s right there in the Lord’s Prayer, and we start each Sunday worship with it. And yet I’m sure every one of us here has had something happen in their lives that was incredibly difficult to forgive (whether your own action or someone’s action toward you), and perhaps even something that you felt you had every reason and right to hold onto. 

So today I’d like to talk a bit about forgiveness, using our first reading, the climax of the Joseph story, as a guide. In my introduction I filled you in on some of the story that leads up to this point, but let’s dwell on that a little longer, because we must understand that Joseph’s story is an incredibly traumatic one. In his early life Joseph was mocked and despised by his older brothers, which would be a lot for any kid. Then they throw him in a pit, threaten to kill him, then mercifully (?) sell him instead into slavery in Egypt, and tell his father he is dead. Joseph is cut off from his family for years to come. Again, that family trauma would be enough to really mess a guy up for the rest of his life. But it gets worse. Joseph does his best to make a life in Egypt, but then gets falsely accused of sexual assault by a powerful women, because he had denied her advances and she was mad. So he gets thrown into prison… it’s just one devastating mishap after another with him. 

Finally, thanks to his gift for interpreting dreams, Joseph finds himself at Pharaoh’s side, in the 2nd most powerful job in Egypt. And his life is looking up. He’s got himself a gorgeous Egyptian wife, the best job in the land, and even a couple kids. He has put his trauma behind him, not to be bothered by it again. In fact, he even names his firstborn Manasseh, which means, “making to forget,” saying, “For God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father’s house.” He has forgotten all that pain, can you believe it? This guy has definitely moved on, right?

But then. Then his traumatic past literally shows up at his doorstep, when his brothers come to Egypt seeking help getting through the famine. And he’s thrown into a whirlwind, as one often is when something we thought was behind us suddenly rears its ugly head once again, triggering again all that pain. Can you imagine the knots in his stomach when he sees them, the shallow breathing, the sweat breaking out on his brow? When this story shows up in the lectionary, we only get the stunning conclusion of the story, the part where Joseph forgives his brothers and invites them to live with him. “Even though you intended to do harm to me,” he says in the final chapter of Genesis, “God intended it for good, to preserve a numerous people.” It’s very evolved, right? An example of faithful living! What a beautiful and inspiring story! 

What we don’t hear in any Sunday reading is everything that happened before he got to that point of forgiveness. Since the brothers don’t recognize him, Joseph has a lot of power – so he plays tricks on his brothers. He accuses them of being spies and throws them in jail. He eavesdrops on them, pretending he doesn’t understand their language, his native tongue. He slips silver into their bags to make it look like they have stolen from him. And, and, several times during the story, Joseph slips away out of everyone’s sight in order to weep at the sheer pain of it all! Three times, he weeps. 

We have to know this part of the story, too, because my friends, oh, forgiveness does not come easily, especially when it involves family and when there is real trauma involved. It is a process, both to get to a point of forgiveness, or even wanting to get to a point of forgiveness, and even to be forgiven – after Joseph forgives his brothers, you’d think it’s a big happy family, right? But no – they aren’t sure if they can trust him. Once their father dies, Joseph’s brothers are sure Joseph will kick them out, and they devise a plan to protect themselves. They do not trust Joseph’s forgiveness. Because forgiveness requires deep vulnerability, both on the part of the forgiver, and the forgiven. It is letting go of pain, yes, but also feels like opening ourselves up to future pain! Holding a grudge feels more powerful, like you’ve got the higher moral ground. This is so apparent in watching the way Joseph, the 2nd most powerful person in Egypt, treats his brothers before they realize it is him. He uses his power to get them back for some of the pain they caused him, pain he thought he’d put behind him, but which came rushing back in an instant.

But this way of living, in which we hold onto our perceived power and withhold forgiveness, keep the higher ground, judge one another, make assumptions about one another’s motives, hold grudges against instead of love for one another – and all this even against members of our own families – this is not the life Jesus describes on a Level Place. True power, and healing, and transformation, can happen only when we are willing to slog through all that junk we build up around ourselves, all that denial of our pain and all the grudges we hold – and find a way to let it go. 

How do we do it?

Well unfortunately I can’t give you a step-by-step guide, because the process is different for different pains, and for different points of the process. But I will offer you some observations that might help on the journey.

First, remember that forgiveness IS a process. It is not instantaneous, like it seems from just reading this one part of the story some Sunday. It is not something that can happen overnight. It requires grieving what was lost, both physical loss and the loss of what could have been had the brokenness never fallen upon you. And it may not be a single process – forgiveness may have to happen again and again. In a famous story about forgiveness, you remember, Jesus tells Peter he must forgive 70 x 7 times – again and again, even the same offense, because you never know when that pain and trauma may show up suddenly on your doorstep. 

So yeah, it’s a process; don’t be discouraged by that process – it will transform you and give you life all along the way. If there is anything to learn from the Joseph story it is this: that even things that are meant to harm, to bring literal or figurative death, God can turn them into life. That does NOT mean that God willed that bad thing to happen to you. Please hear the difference there. God does not bring bad things upon us to serve some divine will. But God can enter into that broken place, and the whole journey, just as God entered our broken world, and bring about life and healing there that we may never have imagined, and may never have come upon in any other way. 

And that life is what the forgiveness process can help bring about. It is learning to let go of bitterness, anger, and regret. It is forgoing the need for revenge or retribution in favor of meeting one another on a level place. It does not necessarily mean a restoration of our relationship with the one who harmed us – though this is the case in the Joseph story, it is not always safe to do that. But it does mean restoration of our relationship with the God of love, joy, and peace. Forgiveness is placing the role of justice – restorative justice, the type that heals both oppressed and oppressor – in the hands of God, where it rightly belongs. 

And that’s really the point: that only with God’s help is any of this possible. Because when God is in the story, we can hope for the resurrection of all things. When God is in the story, forgiveness is possible, and with it, so is transformation and life.

Let us pray… God of life, we are so broken in so many ways. Enter into our brokenness, and show us where the light can come in, bringing about healing, forgiveness, and resurrection. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Blessing on a level place (Feb. 13, 2022)

Full service can be viewed HERE. 

 Epiphany 6C
February 13, 2022
Jeremiah 17:5-10
Luke 6:17-26

INTRODUCTION

There is a very clear theme tying together the Old Testament and Gospel readings today: blessings and curses, or woes, as Jesus calls them. Jeremiah, who is known for his doom-and-gloom messages, makes a clear distinction between those who are blessed, and those who are cursed. The larger context of this passage (what comes directly before this reading) makes it appear that in particular, those who practice idolatry shall be cursed. Or as today’s reading will say, those who trust in human powers rather than God – they will shrivel up in a dry desert. On the other hand, those who do trust in the Lord above all things will have a consistent stream from which to drink. 

Although Jesus uses similar words, the meaning is somewhat different. Today we will hear what is known as the Sermon on the Plain, or Level Place – which you will find is very similar to Matthew’s more well-known Sermon on the Mount, but with a couple of important differences. One is the location – a flat place vs. a mountain. The other is the addition of the woes (not curses – it’s different!). And I warn you, this version of Jesus’ sermon is pretty squirmy. But where Jeremiah’s message is more prescriptive (acting a certain way has a certain outcome), Jesus’ sermon has a different feel. It is more descriptive, saying, “This is the way it is,” and that word, “woe,” is less curse and more warning. Like, “Watch out, if this is the case for you” – which gives the possibility of a change. So as you listen, listen for that warning. What is the Word calling out from you, from your heart this day, and what in you may need to be addressed? Let’s listen. 

Bryan Ahn

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Well, no doubt about it, this text from Luke is a difficult one to hear. That’s probably why Matthew’s very similar sermon, the Sermon on the Mount, is much more popular and well-known: Matthew makes it possible for us to find ourselves on the blessed list. I may not be poor, we think, but sure, sometimes I’m poor in spirit. I am not, nor have I ever been, food insecure, but yeah sure, I hunger for righteousness, like Matthew says. Having comfortably located ourselves as among the blessed, hearing Matthew, we can go about our days. 

But not so with Luke. Luke makes it clear he is talking to those of you who are poor now, hungry now, not spiritually, but physically. And just in case you missed the message, thinking that maybe you are still blessed, but your particular category just didn’t get mentioned, Jesus adds these “woes,” warnings to those who are full now, rich now, laughing now, spoken well of now, saying we have received our reward.

Hm, last week I gave you a funny sermon. But I’m not sure fish jokes are going to fly this week. 

So, what’s a preacher to do with a text like this – if my task is to give you some good news, then what good news is there for a group of people who, by and large, fall into the woes category?

Well first let me say this: while there is always good news to be had, the tough truth is that it might not always be for you. For those who are rich and full, this sermon doesn’t sound good, at least not at first pass. In fact, it might even sound bad, like you’re going to have to give up something important to you. But imagine if you really are poor, and someone is finally saying to you, “God sees you. God is with you. God blesses you, and is filling your deepest needs.” Now that IS good news! This text is good news for the poor.

Now, I hope that means that it is good news for the rich, too. I know people don’t always agree upon how to solve the problem of poverty and hunger – in Rochester, in the world – but I hope we all have the same end goal: that everyone has what they need to live and thrive. Access to work, dependable housing, education, healthcare. That would be good news! Don’t we all want that for our neighbors? 

But do we really, if it means we might have to compromise some of our own comfort for it to happen? And I’m not saying, give up your own access to these things and live in squalor. That isn’t helping anybody. Jesus clearly doesn’t want that the roles reversed, because complete reversal means we’re still in the same boat! We still have the haves and the have-nots, just in the other direction. But it might mean that, maybe the very comfortable could give up some of their comforts, for the sake of those without. After all, if you start bringing down the high and lifting up the lowly, as Mary so beautifully sang about in the Magnificat earlier in Luke’s Gospel, then what are you left with? A level place – a level place like the one from which Jesus chose to preach this sermon. Remember I mentioned that was one difference with Matthew’s version of this sermon? In Matthew, Jesus is on a mount. In Luke, he preaches from a level place – a place where all people’s needs are met. 

It still might not seem like good news to the rich, fed, laughing, and well-spoken of. But I will argue that it is. Because Jesus does not say that this is a done deal. Remember, that word, “Woe,” doesn’t imply a curse. It means “warning.” And warnings are actually good things. A warning keeps us from slipping on the ice. A warning keeps us out of a high radiation area. And a warning can keep us from going into spiritually dangerous territory, and direct us toward a life of faith that is dynamic and alive, that helps us truly to live out Jesus’ command to love one another as he has loved us. 

I know, it still doesn’t feel like good news at first. But sometimes good news needs to start with us being confronted, shaken from our comfort, and then the confession that comes from it. And these difficult words from Jesus’ sermon on a level place do confront us. His sermon does not let us get away with complacency. “Take a good hard look,” he seems to say, “you who have all your physical needs met. Your satisfaction does not mean that you have somehow earned God’s favor and now are good to go. Being successful is not the sign or goal of a life faithfully lived. The fruit of faith is this kingdom I’m describing – in which the hungry are fed, the weeping laugh, and the reviled rejoice. It is when we stand together on a level place, where everyone has what they need.” 

That’s a hard message for me to hear, for sure. And it does drive me to confession – confession that I have grown so comfortable in my relative wealth (even as I still never feel like it is enough wealth, right?), that I can afford not to even notice the poor around me. I drive by them on my way to work. I read about them in the news. But if I choose (and I too often do), I can live my life without worrying about it.

And perhaps even worse, my wealth and comfort allow me, if I choose, to live my life without turning toward God. That is, I am so full of earthly satisfaction that I don’t always remember my need for God. I can turn toward my financial resources, when I’m in need, or the counselor I found, or the comfortable home I have cultivated with money that I have earned. 

Oops, did you see how quickly I slipped into the sin of self-sufficiency there? How easy it was to, as Jeremiah calls it, “trust in mere mortals” – even when the mere mortal in whom I’m trusting is myself. That’s not to say we can’t be accomplished and capable and successful – we can! And we can use our gifts and resources to make this world better. I just mean that I think Jesus is onto something when he says, in essence, “Woe to you whose lives are marked by success,” because those of us who have gotten so far on our own hard work can easily forget that it was not our self-sufficiency, but God who got us where we are. And as long as we are full of ourselves, trusting in ourselves, we don’t leave a lot of room for God’s fullness. 

So Luke drives us to our knees in confession, warns us to recognize our own sin. And I stand by that this is a good thing – it’s good because suddenly when we are there, in despair, there is where we are ready to hear a word of grace. Emptied of our self-reliance and complacency, we can receive God’s good word for us. We can hear a word of grace from Jeremiah – “Blessed are you who trust in the Lord, whose trust is in the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when the heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought, it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit.” You see, having put our trust in the Lord, rather than in ourselves and our own, faulty resources, we are given the great promise that God will not forsake us. When times get rough, when there is a drought, God will provide. When anxiety around us is high, we will reach our roots toward that life-giving stream, and stay spiritually healthy and full of life. When uncertainty reigns, we will still bear fruit – caring for our neighbor, loving the unlovable, comforting the weeping. 

And this promise we can trust, because of what Paul says in his letter to the Corinthians: that we believe in a God who is about life, not death. We believe in a God who in fact brings about life out of death – who can fill the hungry, make the weeping to laugh, and bring about the kingdom of God among the poor. If we believe that Christ has been raised, then we can also believe that God can raise us up, out of our complacency and the sin of idolizing our self-sufficiency, out of our ignorance, out of our self-serving. God can and will bring this world to life, on a level place, where we all have what we need.

Let us pray…  God of life, when the drought comes, direct our gaze not to ourselves, but to you. Shake us from our complacency, that we would seek your kingdom among the poor, and empty us so that we could receive your fullness. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Comedy calls us (Feb 6, 2022)

 Full service HERE. Sermon starts at 29:00. (This sermon is much better performed than read, so you can see all the flapping and flopping as I imitate being in a boat full of fish!)

Epiphany 5C
February 6, 2022
Luke 5:1-11

INTRODUCTION

Today is the day of call stories. We’ll hear Isaiah’s dramatic call story, in which he describes a vision he had of God on a throne. You will recognize some of the words in this text: the call of the seraphs, the angels, are words we now sing as a part of the communion liturgy. I hope as you hear and sing them later this morning, that they will bring to your mind this scene that Isaiah describes, in which the whole room is filled with God’s glory, and where sin is blotted out.

The other call story we will hear today is the call of the first disciples, Peter (here he is still Simon), James, and John. Where in the other Gospels, Jesus starts calling disciples pretty much first thing after his baptism and temptation in the desert, in Luke he has already been doing some teaching, preaching, and healing, and so has already made a name for himself. In fact, one of those healings was of Simon’s mother-in-law, so keep in mind that today’s interaction is not the first time Simon has met Jesus. 

To guide your listening today, I want to point out that God uses all manner of ways to be revealed to us. For Isaiah it was a dramatic vision. The apostle Paul will refer to Jesus’ literal appearance to him on the road. And the way Luke describes the disciples’ call story is downright absurd. Enter into these stories, really try to picture them, and see the myriad ways God is revealed. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Model of a 1st century fishing boat

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Why are fish so smart? Because they hang out in schools.

What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fshshshsh.

What did the fisherman say to the magician? “Pick a cod, and cod!”

Okay, I’m o-fish-ally done telling fish jokes. (Boom. Nailed it!)

I mean, who doesn't love a fish joke, am I right? In fact, even Luke does. It’s true! Of all the evangelists, the Gospel writers, Luke tells the story of Jesus most playfully, including little inside jokes throughout (jokes even better than the ones I just told – I know, hard to believe!), and today is no exception. I think often when we read the Bible, we think it must be done very Reverently and Seriously… but while I do think we should approach the Word of God with reverence and seriousness, I also think that Jesus had a sense of humor, and that there are parts of the Bible that are downright funny! And if we ignore that fact, then we’re missing some of what it has to offer.

So, let’s walk through this story of the calling of the first disciples, in a way that highlights some of its humor and absurdity. 

Simon and his colleagues, James and John, were just packing it in, having worked the third shift. Nighttime was the only time to fish, really, at least with their trammel nets. These were nets that were dropped into the water and stayed afloat with corks, and fish would swim into them and find themselves trapped, and then the fishermen would pull them in. In the daytime, of course, the fish could see the nets, and would wisely avoid them. That’s why fishermen worked at night, when they could catch more, or any fish.

At least, usually they could. But it had been a rough night. All night long they had fished, and caught nothing, so their mood was… grim. This was, after all, how they fed their families and made a living. Tired, worried, and grumpy, they underwent the equally difficult work of cleaning their regrettably empty nets. 

Along comes Jesus. This actually excited Simon somewhat. Since Jesus had healed his mother-in-law a few days before, he was quite intrigued by this itinerant preacher. He was a little wary of the crowds that came with him, but, oh well. That was typical of Jesus. Simon was admittedly a little miffed when Jesus helped himself to Simon’s boat, since that would mean that they’d have to climb back in and go out on the water again, but eh. It was the least he could do for the guy who had healed his mother-in-law. And if he was honest, Simon did enjoy listening to his teachings.

But then Jesus took it a step too far. He asked Simon to put the nets back in the water. Now, it was one thing that he was bone weary from having fished all night and then cleaning those massive nets. But even more than that – who did this guy think he was? Who was this itinerant preacher, telling him, a professional fisherman, how to do his job? Huh? And third, he clearly didn’t even know what he was talking about! It was broad daylight – duh! Not even a fish was fool enough to swim into their nets by day! But Simon wanted to be respectful. As he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration, he said, “Master, we have been fishing all night and caught nothing.” Again, what did Jesus know about fishing?? But Jesus looked back at him, with that burning gaze of his, the same he had seen as Jesus cast out the fever from Simon’s mother-in-law, and Simon sighed and added, “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” Joke’s on him, Simon grumbled. Jesus would definitely look the fool here.

Never, in all his years of fishing, had Simon seen anything like what happened next. The fish rushed into the nets! It was as if Jesus was some sort of fish-whisperer, and these finned fellows were in on the act. Now Simon felt the fool, as he tried to haul in this bounty, even as the nets began to break from the weight. Quickly, he whistled for the other boat to come, but even with them, there were more fish than they could handle. Fish were flopping this way and that, the men were all slipping on the fish now covering the floor of the boat, and Simon could have sworn some fish were actually jumping directly into the boat from the water, just to join in the game and have a laugh (and now that I mention it, it did seem as if the fish were laughing at him!). It was a scene of slimy, smelly chaos!

Suddenly, Simon stopped, and looked over at Jesus, who seemed very much amused by the whole scene, as he stifled a laugh. Here they were, in deep water, with boats so bursting with fish that they were literally sinking, and this guy is giggling? Yet somehow, in the midst of the absurdity, Simon had a realization, an epiphany. As a fish jumped up and smacked his face with its tail, he became certain that this itinerant preacher and healer was more than some arrogant weirdo who knew nothing about fishing. He was… the Lord. 

In the midst of the fishy chaos, Simon stood. He was waist-deep in flopping fish, but that no longer bothered him. He fell down at Jesus’ knees, his face now level with the fish. Hiding his face behind a particularly animated tilapia, he said, “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

And just like that, the fish all stopped flopping and jumping about. The water became like glass. And time stood still. The other fishermen also turned to face Jesus, amazed. A smile danced on Jesus’ lips. With a raised eyebrow and a sideways glance at the vast sea around them, subtly reminding Simon that there was really nowhere to which Jesus could “go away,” Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid. From now on you’ll be catching people.” 

Fish for people? Honestly? His words didn’t make a lick of sense to Simon, nor the others. But they trusted this guy. Trusted him enough to leave behind this fish jackpot they’d just hit, this catch that had just moments before been all that mattered to them. In fact, they left everything, and followed him.

It’s a ridiculous story, truly absurd. At first, I find myself a little annoyed by this, that God would use such absurdity in a moment of such magnitude! He’s calling the men to leave everything for a new and largely unknown call and life, fishing for people, whatever that means – is this really the time for jokes, Jesus? If he wants them to take this call seriously, shouldn’t he be more, well, serious?

But upon deeper reflection, it becomes clearer first that seriousness is not always the best way to meet people (and God surely knows that), and second, that even in my own life, God has used levity and humor to get through to me when nothing else would. A timely joke offered in one of my darkest moments helped light and hope break in, offering me a small resurrection. A shared laugh lightened a tense conversation, and made it possible to keep doing the hard work. Even my call to ministry definitely has some humor. I was serving as a missionary, and looking at what to do when I returned to the states. I was applying to some jobs I thought might be a good temporary gig while I figured out my next steps, and my mom said, “Your dad asked me, ‘Why doesn’t she just apply to seminary?’” And I literally laughed out loud. “Pfff, yeah right. I’m not going to apply to seminary!” The next day I found myself sitting at a computer, looking up seminaries before I even realized what I was doing, then suddenly thought, “Wait, how did this happen?” When I realized where my life was heading, my first thought was not Isaiah’s, “Here am I – send me!” but rather, “Oh no. I think I’m meant to be a pastor.” Yet here I am, 10 years into ordained ministry, laughing a lot, loving it a lot, and unable to picture myself doing anything else. 

When I look back on it all, I laugh. God might as well have used flopping tilapia tails to smack some sense into me. God is funny my friends, and why should this surprise us? Ours is a God of joy, a God who desires joy for us. So why wouldn’t such a God use humor, even slapstick comedy, to reveal Himself to us? Whether to impart some message to our closed minds (humor is disarming after all), or just for fun to fill up our aching, empty hearts, humor is a powerful tool, and one that God uses to feed us, heal us, and call us. When we open our eyes to seeing God in the humor in our lives, we also open our hearts to receiving the life-giving gift of divine joy.

Let us pray… God of slapstick, God of belly laughs, God of joy, we thank you for making us laugh. When we experience humor and joy, open our eyes to find you there, and open our ears to hear what you have to say. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.