Fishing
I thought I would be fishing all my life. My father had been a fisherman, and his father before that. In fact, all of the stories we tell when our family gets together are fish tales. We've lived on this lake so long that no one can really remember a time when we weren't on the water fishing.
The boat I inherited from my dad, though I've had to make some modifications and repairs along the way. I'd love to have a new boat, but I don't have time to build one and I don't have funds to buy one. So I keep patching and hoping none of the patches fly off in the middle of one of those nasty storms we get here.
I can't say that I really loved fishing, or even really hated it that much. I had a very strong indifference toward it. It's what I did. It's who I was. I went out every night onto the lake, threw out my nets and caught fish. When morning comes, I would come back to shore, sell the fish to the market, and then repair my nets. As soon as that was done, I could go home and sleep until the next evening. I always counted the days until Sabbath. No fishing was done on the Sabbath, and I was always ready and glad for the rest.
Every day the same. Go out, fish, sell, repair, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It wasn't much of a life, but it was mine. And it was stable. Everyone wanted fish. It was what we lived off of here in the Galilee. And I had gotten used to it. In fact, from as early as I can remember, I was on the lake. So every morning, I knew where I would be: in my boat, repairing my nets.
Yes, I thought I'd be fishing all my life. Until he came by and stopped by my boat.
I had heard of him, of course. There are very few secrets around Capernaum. They're hard to keep in a small town. But I never paid him much attention until he stopped by my boat as I was cleaning up from the night. I don't know how long he had been standing there before I noticed him. It had been a long night with no returns, so I was admittedly a bit grumpy. "What are you looking at?" I growled. He just smiled. "What?" I said.
"Simon," he said, still smiling. "Come with me, and I will make you fish for people."
What the heck? Fish for people? What in the world was he talking about? And how did he know who I was? Yet there was something deeply penetrating about his gaze. It's a gaze I would see later, on that horrible night when he was arrested, a gaze that seemed to go deep down into your soul, a gaze that seemed to understand who you were and what you were about. In that moment, there by the seashore, I had a deep yearning to follow him, to know more about him, to see what kind of life he might lead me to. No other rabbi had wanted me. He was the first to invite me on a journey somewhere other than in a boat. "Fish for...people?" I asked. "What kind of net do you use for them?"
"Come and see," he said, with a small chuckle. "Follow me."
So I did. I never gave the boat another thought. I dropped my nets and left it all behind. And I never once regretted the moment that I did. I left everything to follow him, and no matter how hard it got, I've never turned back.
So I guess I am fishing for the rest of my life, just not in the way I thought I would be.
The boat I inherited from my dad, though I've had to make some modifications and repairs along the way. I'd love to have a new boat, but I don't have time to build one and I don't have funds to buy one. So I keep patching and hoping none of the patches fly off in the middle of one of those nasty storms we get here.
I can't say that I really loved fishing, or even really hated it that much. I had a very strong indifference toward it. It's what I did. It's who I was. I went out every night onto the lake, threw out my nets and caught fish. When morning comes, I would come back to shore, sell the fish to the market, and then repair my nets. As soon as that was done, I could go home and sleep until the next evening. I always counted the days until Sabbath. No fishing was done on the Sabbath, and I was always ready and glad for the rest.
Every day the same. Go out, fish, sell, repair, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It wasn't much of a life, but it was mine. And it was stable. Everyone wanted fish. It was what we lived off of here in the Galilee. And I had gotten used to it. In fact, from as early as I can remember, I was on the lake. So every morning, I knew where I would be: in my boat, repairing my nets.
Yes, I thought I'd be fishing all my life. Until he came by and stopped by my boat.
I had heard of him, of course. There are very few secrets around Capernaum. They're hard to keep in a small town. But I never paid him much attention until he stopped by my boat as I was cleaning up from the night. I don't know how long he had been standing there before I noticed him. It had been a long night with no returns, so I was admittedly a bit grumpy. "What are you looking at?" I growled. He just smiled. "What?" I said.
"Simon," he said, still smiling. "Come with me, and I will make you fish for people."
What the heck? Fish for people? What in the world was he talking about? And how did he know who I was? Yet there was something deeply penetrating about his gaze. It's a gaze I would see later, on that horrible night when he was arrested, a gaze that seemed to go deep down into your soul, a gaze that seemed to understand who you were and what you were about. In that moment, there by the seashore, I had a deep yearning to follow him, to know more about him, to see what kind of life he might lead me to. No other rabbi had wanted me. He was the first to invite me on a journey somewhere other than in a boat. "Fish for...people?" I asked. "What kind of net do you use for them?"
"Come and see," he said, with a small chuckle. "Follow me."
So I did. I never gave the boat another thought. I dropped my nets and left it all behind. And I never once regretted the moment that I did. I left everything to follow him, and no matter how hard it got, I've never turned back.
So I guess I am fishing for the rest of my life, just not in the way I thought I would be.
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| Boat on the Sea of Galilee, June 2012 |
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