I said it Sunday, and it is important enough to repeat it.
"The most important people in this congregation are the ones that aren't here."
Reading this, you will have to keep firmly in your mind precisely what is meant by "here." "Here" is the Church--wherever that is, dear reader, for you. "Church" is wherever God's people gather to hear the scriptures and to rightly share in the sacraments. Word, sacrament, and those called by God to gather around these things. Wherever that happens for you--with you--that is "here." And the most important people in that place are the ones that aren't there at any given time, which may include you when you are unable or unwilling to be present.
Such a claim seems, well, offensive. At least to the ones who always seem to be at church, the dedicated movers and shakers that are diligent in coming to the scriptures and diligent in living among God's faithful people. I suppose it is offensive...until one figures out what Jesus wishes his disciples to do and to be.
On Sunday, the gospel text was the story of Jesus inviting, nay calling, the first disciples. He was walking along the Sea of Galilee, and he saw Andrew and his brother Simon (later renamed Peter) out on the sea in a boat fishing. Jesus stops and yells out to them: "Follow me! And I will send you out to fish for people!" Immediately, they drop their nets, jump into the water, and swim to shore. From that point forward they follow Jesus, who gives them a whole new purpose and profession in life. The disciples of Jesus Christ are fishers of people.
Jesus' analogy for discipleship is genius. His most brilliant teachings come through image-based metaphors and parables (analogous stories that provoke us to find parallel situations in our own lives and apply the moral principle of that story). And "fishers of people" is a delightful mash up that explains the life of discipleship far more powerfully than is evident at first blush.
What does the fisherman focus on?
Fish.
Specifically, the fish that haven't been caught yet.
A fisherman's attention and energy are focused on one goal, one quarry. A good fisherman is one who knows where the fish will be, where they like to be, and will have the equipment to draw them in. When a fisherman is out fishing, everything else is sacrificed for the sake of that one purpose.
In Jesus' day, those who fished for a living are more alike to commercial fishers today. They used nets, not poles and line. Yet, the same principle holds true for the fishing we are more familiar with personally.
I remember fishing in my youth, with my father. We would go down to the Rock River or to Pierce Lake (both in Rockford, IL). Once out of the car, we would walk what felt like a great distance to find the "right spot." When there was perfectly good shoreline very close to the car. Then, before we would set up our chairs, we would spend an impossibly long time preparing our fishing rods, tying hooks to the end of our lines, and carefully, firmly placing bait on the hooks. By the time we cast out, I was bored (remember, I was young). Though bored, and surrounded by a beautiful and curious nature begging to be explored, nature sitting there waiting for someone to play in it, we were required to sit in one place and watch fishing poles that never seemed to move. We couldn't leave. We couldn't artificially create action by repeatedly casting, which felt like doing something but was, evidently, counterproductive. For the sake of the hoped-for fish, we sat and watched and waited. Some days, a pitifully short burst of excitement produced a fish in the net, which seemed hardly worth all the effort and patience (to my young mind). Success simply served as stark relief to highlight the time wasted in sitting there waiting. While most days, the only fish we saw were the ones back home in the aquarium. It would have been more fun catching and release those fish. Yet, no matter the success or failure, the activity or boredom, my father was unfazed. Like the person who knows what he wants, my father was willing to do the work, willing to wait all day, just for the chance. The fisherman has but one goal and focus: the fish.
Really, the only danger to me in fishing was boredom. Yet, commercial fishing--even today--is one of the most physically demanding and dangerous professions in the world. The fisherman cares for the safety of his crew, but not for their comfort. Indeed, the whole crew is bound together in the bond of common purpose which breeds deep relationship. Yet, the whole crew sacrifices a great deal for the sake of catching fish.
In a boat out on the water, the boredom inflicted upon me while fishing in my youth was complete. There was nowhere to go to escape the tedium. "Can we swim?" I would ask. "No. It will chase off the fish." Several times in the afternoon, I would try, "I have to go to the bathroom." At school, and most other activities, this statement would immediately produce a small reprieve, a break from stress or boredom--a short stroll, something else to focus on. But out on the boat, the response was an exasperated, "Can you hold it?" And when I couldn't, the tactic never produced a trip to shore to stretch my legs. At times, I would attempt to treat the boredom with conversation. Or my brother and I would reach a boiling point and begin to argue or pester one another. Both means of breaking the silence were met with: "You're too loud, you'll scare the fish away." Or, "Stop moving around, the fish can hear you."
The fisherman relegates to the periphery not just the crew, but all other human beings. If a fisherman, while fishing, thinks of his loved ones, it is only for the sake of motivating him in his cause. "I must catch the fish to feed and support my wife and kids." All other consideration of the beloved is suspended.
Mom usually didn't go fishing with us. Out on the water for hours and hours, I would miss her terribly. Curiously, Dad didn't seem to. As the hours dragged by, I would worry "Maybe we should go home," I would say, "Mom might miss us--maybe she needs us home." Dad would respond, "Mom is fine. She knows where we are; she knows we're fishing." Sometimes an afternoon at the water would turn into and evening, too. As darkness fell around us, I would suggest, "Didn't mom want us home before dark?" Then Dad would utter words that we all knew were untrue: "She won't mind. We'll just stay out a little bit longer. We are going to get a bite soon, I can feel it." I always considered his tendency to place mother as a secondary concern in his single-mindedness on the fish to be...perilous...and chancy.
When the fisherman isn't fishing, he is preparing to fish and thinking about fishing. In Jesus' day, a lot of hard work went into preparing and maintaining the tools of the trade. Fisherman would mend nets, maintain their boats, and engage in all sorts of toil and tedium (investing a great deal of capital)--all for the sake of the next fish.
At home, between fishing trips, my father would spend a great deal of time and energy preparing. He would clean, repair, and otherwise tend his fishing poles. He would sit and organize his tackle box. He would go shopping for new and expensive poles, line, lures, sinkers, and other tools of the trade. He would sit before the TV and watch what remain among the most boring shows on air--the fishing shows. All to gain tips and tricks for catching "the big one."
What, then, does the Christian focus on?
People.
Specifically, the people who are not in the church...yet.
According to Jesus, the Church is a place for fishers. As fishermen and -women live for the fish, so Jesus' disciples live for people. We care for family and for one another, and yet our purpose is to bring in others. Our passion is to go out and cast the net. And even when we aren't out there, for we cannot be on the water all the time, we prepare. The preparation begins with mending and enlarging the net: "How can I tell the story of Jesus' love to make others see?" And everything we do is infused with that purpose of drawing the most important people further in. Every person caught up in the net of the Kingdom of God is "the big one."
And if you feel that you are ill equipped to fish for people, remember who Jesus calls. Jesus didn't invite public figures, orators, sales people, or celebrities. Jesus called fishers. Andrew and Simon were skilled at engaging fish. Engaging humans requires different skills. What a career change! Yet these simple fishermen trusted Jesus, believed in him, and Jesus provided all the equipment they needed.
The disciples' net is the Word of God. And the Word never comes back to us empty.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore..." --Matthew 13:47-48a
