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| Raphael: Depart from me |
Luke 5:1-11 is a combination of a miracle story and pronouncement story concerning the call of Simon and the first disciples. The source is Mark and the material unique to Luke. However, the material unique to Luke has a connection to a post-resurrection story of the risen Lord. Luke’s genius was to remove both stories from their “original” literary setting and bring them together. Luke chooses this way to narrate the enlistment of the first followers of Jesus. Luke substitutes the simple call we find in Mark of the first four disciples for the story of a miraculous catch of fish that culminates in the recruitment of Peter, along with James and John. The distinctive path Luke takes makes harmonization with Mark and Matthew a waste of time. Yet, the historical discrepancy is a trivial price to pay for the enriched elements of the notion of call and witness that we find here.[1]
In terms of its place in Luke’s gospel, Luke brings Peter within the sphere of Jesus' miraculous power. The text provides a psychologically plausible background for the call of the disciples that Mark does not have. According to Luke’s account, Jesus had already embarked upon a profoundly popular ministry in Galilee. Now, in chapter 5, Luke begins to develop another aspect of Jesus' message -- his desire to put together a team of disciples to work with him.
Luke 5:1-3 sets the location of the call and miracle. Mark 4:1-2 inspires this part of the account in Luke. The details Luke provides are simple yet poignant. Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake (λίμνην) of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God (not to experience miraculous cures), 2 he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake. The fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets, a sure sign that they had concluded their fishing activities for the day. The same body of water as the “sea of Galilee” or the “Sea of Tiberias” (John 21:1). By preferring the precise term “lake” to the exaggerated term “sea” (θαλάσσης), Luke displays his attention to detail in historiography. Josephus, a Jewish historian of the same period, also refers to this body of water as the “lake of Gennesaret” (Josephus, Antiquities, 18.2.1). 3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, since its use as a fishing vessel is over for the day, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. From his watery perch, Jesus can address the crowds, while Simon, laboring over his nets, keeping a sharp eye on his boat, hears every word. One can now envision the fishing trip Jesus now calls for as a provisioning expedition for the crowd and an opportunity for those on the boat with him to truly see and experience his power and identity.
At this point, the first interest of Luke is Simon. Luke had already foreshadowed the relationship between Jesus and Simon in 4:38‑39 when Jesus heals Simon's mother‑in‑law. By the time Jesus appears on the shores of the lake of Gennesaret, the fishing grounds of Simon, he is a known figure to Simon with an established record of accomplishment. His family has once before experienced Jesus' healing touch. This time Jesus encounters Simon not as a healer but as a teacher. Jesus enters the sphere of the life of this man. We see a quick succession from the scene of the action of the Word of Jesus and the sign that accompanies it. If we understand the incident in this way, we can see the parallel with Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah.[2] Peter plays a key role in this gospel, and thus he is the first disciple characterized by Luke. In the apostolic list in 6:14, he is simply Simon. The reader of Luke also scarcely encounters the Peter who struggles and falters, as in Mark, Matthew, and John. Instead, the narrative of Luke presents Peter much more positively. This positive portrayal prepares a reader for the Peter of the Acts narrative, a strong missionary who leads well and rarely stumbles. One can understand Luke’s particular characterization of Peter through that which Luke omits from the narrative of Mark and the additional details Luke adds about Peter’s life. First, Luke does not include the gospel traditions about the rebuke of Peter (Mark 8:32-33/Matthew 16:22-23) after the passion prediction. Second, Luke does not record the specific censure of Peter in the garden of Gethsemane. In Mark and Matthew we find both recording Jesus’ reprimand of Peter (Mark 14:37/Matthew 26:40), in Luke Jesus addresses an indefinite group of sleeping disciples (Luke 22:45-46). Luke also reports additional information about Peter that bolsters his image. In Luke 22:31-34, even though Peter will deny Jesus three times, Jesus provides a unique assurance to Peter, lest he fall into the hands of the devil. Finally, Luke is the only one of the synoptic writers to grace Peter with an individual experience of the resurrection (Luke 24:34).
Luke now offers an account of the miracle (4-9a) and the call of Simon and the disciples (9b-11). It has a close parallel to John 21:1-11, where the risen Jesus appears to Peter and the disciples on the Sea of Galilee in connection with a miraculous catch of fish. Indeed, some scholars suggest that Luke may have been trying to set a pre-resurrection precedent for that post-resurrection fishing trip. The two stories are versions of the same tradition. The crowd has disappeared. Their swift vanishing act also indicates that Luke may have woven two stories together at this point. Jesus now turns his full attention to Simon, whose nets he has finally washed and readied for the next evening's fishing expedition. 4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Jesus' command should have brought raised eyebrows and incredulous looks from Simon and his fellow fishers. Prime fishing hours were long past. 5 Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long (wearisome toil or even travail) but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” Simon's reply reflects the fence he was still straddling at this point. Having witnessed Jesus perform a healing miracle in his own home and having now heard Jesus preach the Good News, Simon knows there is something special about Jesus. Simon feels compelled to explain to Jesus his fishing experience for the day. Although he makes sure that Jesus is aware of the fruitlessness of this endeavor, Simon agrees to follow the command of Jesus, his new "Master." In verses 6-7, Luke now emphasizes the enormity of the miracle performed by Jesus. 6 When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. 7 Therefore, they signaled their partners in the other boat, suggesting they had not journeyed far from shore, to come and help them. Moreover, they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. The details provided by Luke testify to the miraculous nature of this huge catch of fish. Simon is at last fully convinced of Jesus' divine power and presence. 8 However, when Simon Peter, indicative of his impending new identity as a disciple saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord (Κύριε), for I am a sinful (ἁμαρτωλός) man!” As in the similar incident in John, Peter is ashamed in the presence of Jesus because he had disowned him three times and fled the crucifixion scene. In the present narrative context, Peter’s response makes little sense. However, after the crucifixion, such guilt becomes understandable. Yet, one need not see his admission of sin as further evidence that Luke took this account from a post‑Resurrection confession by Peter. The terminology Luke employs expresses a general, moral sense of unworthiness and fear‑‑which all who find themselves in the presence of divinity would naturally feel. Note, also, that in Peter's outburst, he no longer addresses Jesus as "master" but instead switches to kyrios or "Lord" ‑‑ a term that in these circumstances conveys far more than a respectful "sir." Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah have this instinct as well, as they try to escape the divine call. Jesus invades the sphere of this man, but Peter wants him to depart from his sphere because he does not feel worthy. The call of Jesus has gone forth to the sinner. In fact, as the call of Levi reminds us, Jesus has come to call sinners rather than the righteous. The sinful man becomes worthy due to the call of Jesus and is therefore able to witness.[3] 9 For he and all who were with him were amazed (θάμβος) wonder combined with fear, suggesting recognition of the divine) at the catch of fish that they had taken; 10 and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. For some scholars, this feels like an awkward reference to the presence of other future disciples. If he has Mark in front of him, he is tipping his hat to the call narrative in that Gospel. Luke immediately refocuses attention on the relationship between Jesus and Simon. Jesus does not in fact depart from the sinner but calls him. Luke aims the discipleship charge specifically toward Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, in words like those we find in Mark, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching (ζωγρῶν, meaning “to capture alive” and “to revive or make alive”) people.” Luke avoids the violence suggested by the net in the call narrative of Mark. The first meaning of the term Luke uses fits well with the acts of hunting or fishing, the disciples’ former life, and the second meaning denotes the life on which they are about to embark. Through the plurality of meanings in this verb, one can perceive the depth of Jesus’ teaching and the genius of his apostolic call. The first apostles were to capture human beings while they were biologically alive, but through their capture, the disciples would make them spiritually alive. The miracle is a symbol of what Simon will experience in his fishing for the kingdom. Simon is a leading missionary in Jesus' cause. Note Luke’s "you shall be taking them alive," = "catching." What anglers do to fish is not good for the fish. However, Luke has the implication of saving from death and preserved for life. 11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him. Thus, although Jesus directs to the call to Simon, the undefined “they” respond to the call. The response is immediate and dramatic. The anglers bring their boats ashore abandon them, even with the fish still in them. In Luke's "call" text, the power of this charge, of this invitation to be in service to Christ, is the only detail that is of concern. The particulars of the lives these anglers leave behind are neither Luke's concern nor theirs. Dropping everything, they follow Jesus into a new life of discipleship. Jesus calls them to come to him, to follow him, and to make something specific of them. They will make a transition from what they made of themselves to what Jesus wants to make of them, to make them fish for people is to make them apostles, men of a commission that Jesus gives them, the commission to seek and gather people. These men have a new calling in their seeking and gathering. To fulfill this calling, they must leave their nets and boats to follow Jesus. Jesus calls them to this discipleship. We see here the meaning and purpose of the election of individuals for the proclamation to the many, for the creation of the church with its task in relation to the world. They will share in his prophetic office.[4]
Most of the contrasts pivot around what happens before and after the miraculous catch in the deep. Before the catch (vv. 6-7), the anglers attend to a very routine task of their business as they wash their nets (v. 2); after, they set out with the brand-new vocation of following Jesus (v. 11). Before, the anglers are exhausted and more than a little frustrated from toiling all night and catching nothing (v. 5); after, Luke portrays them as having a sense of energy and purpose as they leave everything behind (v. 11). There is the before of “Simon’” (vv. 3-5) and the after of “Simon Peter” (v. 8 — although there is a return to “Simon” in v. 10). Finally, Simon first calls Jesus “Master” (v. 5), then calls Jesus “Lord” (v. 8). All of these point to transformation — from ordinary to extraordinary, from spent to rejuvenated, from cluelessness to profound insight, from old identity to new.
From one perspective, of course, the psychological preparation Luke provides for the call of the disciples means the disciples follow a known quantity. Jesus is a charismatic and widely successful leader who has just performed a dramatic miracle. He provides a reasonable basis for these people to follow Jesus. Some scholars suggest this makes the call narrative in Luke less compelling, although I think this might go too far. Luke takes a teaching story and transforms it into an epiphany experience. If, in fact, one sees this as a pre-resurrection of version of John 21, however, we may smooth this transition by thinking about the outcome of this sudden fishing venture.
I invite you to ponder this story with me for a few moments.
A stranger shows up in the middle of what you are doing, and he asks you to demonstrate your task. Although you may feel a little irritated at the interruption, you sense that you can trust this person, so you agree that he may come along, or at least watch. As he accompanies you, you realize that you can accomplish far more than you ever thought possible, that you are more fulfilled than you thought you could be. He asks if you would be willing to try a new way of doing things, one that would allow you to do what you do all the time, but this time for the sake of God’s people. What do you do? How do you respond?
Peter learned that an encounter with Jesus becomes a challenge to his way of life. Granted, the sayings of Jesus can puzzle the intellect at times. Yet, that type of puzzlement is not what Jesus intends when he steps into our lives and encounters us. The encounter will demand an act of surrender to Christ. It will mean a life of obedience in following the lead of Jesus.[5]
Henry David Thoreau warned against “enterprises that require a new set of clothes.” His point, I think, was that as we seek our calling in life, be aware of who you are. If who you are is more like one in shorts and sandals, then scrap the plan to be a courtroom attorney, a snow ski instructor, or waste disposal specialist.[6]
Who are we? In Don Juan de Marco, Marlon Brando portrayed a psychiatrist who sets out to dissuade a young man (Johnny Depp) from believing he is Don Juan. The young man protests that he has a cape, he seduces women, and he has a mask, so of course he is Don Juan. The psychiatrist argues that a cape, a dozen seductions, does not make a Don Juan. The young man persists. How do you know you are a psychiatrist? Because you have a college degree? A framed diploma and a piece of paper make you a psychiatrist? By the end of the movie, the psychiatrist does not look much like one, and we are almost certain that we have met Don Juan.
Who are we? I first noticed the difference in my grandmother in one of my visits to Minnesota. Dad told me that she had begun losing her memory. At first, I could not believe it. She recognized me right away. I was “Georgie” to her, and I always would be. We had an enjoyable conversation – for about 15 minutes. Then, she started asking me the same questions. Occasionally, she would catch herself, “Oh, I just asked you that, didn’t I?” That visit saddened me. She was not the same person. Over time, she came to have increasingly less sense of who she was.
How do we know who we are? Granted, the difference between sanity and insanity, reason and unreason, truth and falsity, can be a fuzzy one. Yet, we recognize that at some point we encounter a real world that will not bend to what we think about it.
When Peter confesses his sinfulness in the presence of Jesus, most of us have had experiences with which we can identify with him. I have had times when I felt like a miserable failure in life. I had taken a year off schooling between college and seminary. A moment came toward the end of that year when I felt so alone in a suburb of Chicago, and not sure what God wanted of me. I felt of little use to anyone. During my divorce, I realized how difficult it was for me to admit and face failure at something I valued as highly as family. I was hard on myself, looking back and beating myself up over my failure to make a worthy decision in such an important part of my life. I have gone through times in parish ministry when I doubted by gifts and graces for ministry. I wondered what it would be like to move into a community and select a church I wanted to attend, and simply serve in the church like a real person. I have wondered if God had any use for me. Yet, I have also found that even at my worst, God does not leave. God seems to have a reason for me to be here. I want to be a better follower of Jesus. I want to help others become better followers of Jesus. Yet, fishing for people with Jesus calls me to disrupt my life, and frankly, the lives of others.
We live in a time when it can be difficult for Christians and for the church to get their sense of identity. We live in an increasingly post-Christian culture. Political ideology has become pervasive and god-like. We live in a time when many of those who shape public opinion question whether talk about God makes any sense. Each tribe has fashioned its gods and expect adherents to comply.
Where does the church go to get a sense of who it is and why it is here? A pastor visited one of his parishioners. He heard someone playing a piano. The closer he got to the door, the more painful the sound. This was not the sound of an accomplished pianist. It was the sound of a stumbling, clashing, rhythm-less attempt of a beginner. When he knocked, and no one answered, he walked on the porch to a large picture window. Peeking through the window, the pastor saw the family's young son seated in front of the piano, his face pinched in frowning concentration. A light tapping on the glass brought the child flying off the piano bench and racing to the door, ecstatic at the excuse for a break. "Hi, Matthew," the pastor said. "What are you doing?" "I'm practicing my piano lesson," Matthew replied, sadly. "Well, I really came to talk to your Mom about some things. Is she home by any chance?" Matthew heaved a great sigh, rolled his eyes in impatient disgust, and said, "Now what do you think?"
Sometimes, we ask questions to which the answer should be obvious. The identity of the church and of the Christian is both are still with Jesus. Both are still in on a fishing trip with Jesus. We need to be catching people for Jesus Christ. That is the responsibility the church today shares with the apostolic church and with the church of the ages. We need to keep persuading the minds and hearts of people that life in Jesus Christ is the best path toward a meaningful and happy life.
I have been thinking about the willingness to take risks. Jesus commands Peter to go into the deep water. For me, that would be a scary and risky thing to do. Some people engage in risky behavior all too readily, and they pay for it. Other people are so safe in their approach to life that they miss some of the remarkable things God may have for them. I guess that is the point. Risky or safe, is this act what Jesus bids us to do? I do not want to be too quick to jump up and volunteer, for I do not always know what is best for me. Is God calling me? I want to remain firm in the commitment I have made to follow him, regardless of the temptation to do otherwise. Most of all, I want to be open to relationships with people who need the good news of Jesus Christ in their lives. The angler is patient in finding the right place to drop the line and to find the right bait for the fish that day. In the same way, I recognize that it will take time to learn what my neighbor or friend who does not follow Jesus has to teach me about his or her life. Then, maybe I can at least be faithful in planting the seed of the word of God in their lives.
In the song, “Old City Bar,”[7] recounting events at a bar on Christmas Eve, we hear these words:
And here was the danger
That even with strangers
Inside of this night
It’s easier to believe
Then the door opened wide
And a child came inside
And he asked did we know
That outside in the snow
That someone was lost
Standing outside the door
… standing alone
by a broken pay phone
Was a girl that child said
Could no longer get home
And the snow it was falling
The neon was calling
The bartender turned
And said, not that I care
But how would you know this?
The child said I’ve noticed
If one could be home
They’d be already there
After the bartender reconsiders and helps the girl get home, we hear these words:
If you want to change it
This world you can change it
If somehow we could make this
Christmas thing last
By helping a neighbor
Or even a stranger
And to know who needs help
You need only just ask
Our world is looking for a home. We need to love our neighbors enough to share with them the home we have found in Jesus.
I came across a prayer that has been meaningful to me in pondering our identity. I conclude with that prayer.
Thanks be to Thee, Jesus Christ,
For the many gifts Thou hast bestowed on me,
Each day and night, each sea and land,
Each weather fair, each calm, each wild.
I am giving Thee worship with my whole life,
I am giving Thee assent with my whole power,
I am giving Thee praise with my whole tongue,
I am giving Thee honor with my whole utterance.
I am giving Thee reverence with my whole understanding,
I am giving Thee offering with my whole thought,
I am giving Thee praise with my whole fervor,
I am giving Thee humility in the blood of the Lamb.
I am giving Thee love with my whole devotion,
I am giving Thee kneeling with my whole desire,
I am giving Thee love with my whole heart,
I am giving Thee affection with my whole sense;
I am giving Thee my existence with my whole mind,
I am giving Thee my soul, O God of all gods.
My thought, my deed,
My word, my will,
My understanding, my intellect,
My way, my state.[8]
[1] Barth, CD, IV.3 [71.4] 589-91.
[2] Barth, CD, IV.3 [71.4] 590.
[3] Barth, CD, IV.3 [71.4] 590.
[4] Barth, CD, II.2 [35.3] 443-4.
[5] Inspired by —William Barclay, The Gospel of John: Volume 1, The Daily Study Bible Series (Westminster John Knox Press, 1975), 227.
[6] —Anjula Razdan, “Can’t hear your inner voice?” Utne, November-December 2002, 69.
[7] Part of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra Christmas presentation
[8] —From an ancient Celtic prayer, “I am giving Thee worship with my whole life,” Carmina Gadelica III, 41-47, in The Celtic Vision, ed. Esther de Waal (Liguori/Triumph, 1988, 2001), 1-4. Full text may be found here: journeywithjesus.net. Retrieved August 8, 2018.
Thank for this posting...it speaks to many of my wondering!-Emily Morin
ReplyDeleteenjoyed this I think we all experienced wht you desribed-Lynn Eastman
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