Good morning. It’s a pleasure to be with you again. I’m Gary Hall, a retired priest who spent my early career here in Los Angeles (vicar at St. Aidan’s Malibu before my friend Susan Klein, senior associate at All Saints, Pasadena for many years). My wife Kathy and I left L.A. for a long time, but we returned here from Washington D.C. when I retired in 2016. Since then I’ve had a number of interim ministries and even preached here a few times when Susan was rector. I’m old enough to have known every St. Alban’s rector since Parker Jones. I went to graduate school at UCLA in the 1980s, and Norm Ishizaki regularly let me park in your lot. So I’ve always been fond of St. Alban’s, and I’m happy to help as you begin the next phase of your common life.
Today’s gospel is Luke’s account of the miraculous catch of fish. [Luke 5.1-11] In this tale, Jesus gets into a boat near the shore. Though the fishermen had been out all the night before fishing, they had caught nothing. Jesus tells them to go farther out and let down their nets. Our friend Peter scoffs in disbelief, but he obeys Jesus and is astonished by the number of fish they bring up. They catch so many fish that their nets break and the boat threatens to sink. When Peter realizes the size and extent of this miraculous catch of fish, he falls to his knees in front of Jesus. And what he says is both surprising and authentic. He doesn’t say, “Thank you, Jesus, for helping me catch so many fish.” He does say, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" In reply, Jesus tells him not to be afraid, for soon he will be fishing for people.
There are many amazing things in this story, but there are two I’d like to talk about, one on each side of the big catch: Jesus’s initial response to the fishermen, and Peter’s reaction when he realizes what’s happened. Let’s think for a moment about each.
If you think about the context of this story, what you see is a tale focused on a group of people who are deeply discouraged. As Peter says to Jesus early on, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” And what does Jesus do when he sees this discouraged group of people? He doesn’t admonish them or give them false comfort. Instead, he gets in the boat with them and enters their experience. To me, the great miracle of this story is that, in company with Jesus, a group of depressed people find a new way to get on with life and its business.
Now it doesn’t take a Bible scholar to see how this story might speak to you here at St. Alban’s this morning. The departure of a rector under any circumstances is always traumatic. This parish has a history of rectors who served long tenures. To have a priest leave after a year-and-a-half is no doubt upsetting, especially when that year-and-a-half was lived under the strictures of a pandemic. I wouldn’t be surprised if, one week after Yein’s departure, many of you are all over the emotional map about her leaving and the prospects for the parish’s future.
And this is where today’s gospel helps us. God’s response to discouragement and disappointment is not to judge them but to accept them. Jesus knows the fisherfolk have good reason to be bummed out. Before Jesus does anything else, he enters their world and shares their problem. Following that logic, it’s not too much to suggest that God knows you all have a welter of feelings about the current moment and the way forward. This gospel story suggests that God is sharing your experience and getting in the boat with you. That’s kind of like the whole Jesus story in a nutshell. God comes to us in our loss and transforms our pain into something new. Disappointment and loss are the materials God seems always given to work with. Discouragement can be turned into something like a miraculous catch of fish, bigger and better than anything we could have imagined.
So the first point is simply to say, as an old seminary professor of mine used to say back in the day, “It’s OK to be where you’re at.” Wherever you are on the emotional spectrum, it’s OK to be there. God will be with you in it. That’s the first point. And here’s the second.
When Peter sees the gigantic catch of fish that Jesus has pulled off, he says, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" This is how it always is in the Bible. When God calls Isaiah, the prophet’s first response is to say, “Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips.” Every time God appears directly in the Bible, the first reaction is usually an experience of personal unworthiness. Who am I to be the recipient of such a glorious and transcendent vision? Yet that is the deep and paradoxical truth of the glory of God as made manifest in this season after Epiphany. God’s glory spreads out over these weeks, beginning with the magi on Epiphany and ending with Jesus’s transfiguration on its final Sunday. As this glory reveals itself, it lights up the world’s beauty and its shadows--those parts of us that we would rather deny. In this moment, Peter sees both his blessedness and his unworthiness. He knows himself both the recipient of a great gift and a sinful person. That, in brief, is the paradox of the Christian life. None of are worthy to be here, yet God loves us so deeply that we’re called forward toward a future of blessing and promise and hope, sometimes in spite of ourselves.
In this moment of parish transition, and as we move together through this season of expanding glory and light, I believe that God wants us to take in the powerful truths spoken to us in Luke’s Gospel account. The miracle story points us toward what the whole divine drama of the Jesus story is about: new life, hope and transformation—these are the touchstones of the Christian life. Caught up in our own personal struggles, sometimes even in larger church struggles, we can forget why we are here. God has offered each and all of us new and abundant life with one another in Christ. We are and will be risen, just as Christ is risen, and that means we are free to live hopeful, generous, compassionate, lives free of anxiety and fear. That is the central truth of Christianity, and sometimes we let other things get in the way of living it out.
When Jesus famously says, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people", he reminds us that God’s call extends not only to us. We have been given this gift of hopeful, fearless life so that we may call others into it. That’s what churches are for. Like the fishers in Luke’s story, God has called us to be people who cast the net inclusively, inviting not just mysterious wise people but the full range of the human community into our life and fellowship. God invites everyone to the table. The promise is that when we do that, our nets will be full to the point of breaking.
So: God understands how a parish church, like a group of fisherfolk, can experience times of loss and discouragement. God understands that in the face of a setback we may want simply to give up or go away. God’s response to our depression is to get into it with us, to lead us back to the reason we came here in the first place. The church is the place we come for solace and refreshment. It’s also the place we come for challenge and renewal, to be reminded that God is up to something glorious and transforming, even and most especially when things look pointless and bleak.
So let us acknowledge the bleakness. And let us also, with Jesus, set our eyes on the glory, made manifest in Jesus and in each other. Let us spread the invitation to God’s banquet to everyone, especially those we don’t usually make room for around our tables. And let’s acknowledge that though we each have some work to do, God is in and among us as we get ourselves together for the next phase in this divine process.
As you navigate the night of disappointments, open yourself to the dawn’s proclamation of gospel news. Even now, Jesus is getting into the boat we call St. Alban’s alongside you. This isn’t just a fish story. It’s a promise of the abundant life we will know as we accompany Jesus on this miraculous road. “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” It’s an audacious and scary promise. But we do not pursue it on our own. Jesus, our brother, savior, and friend, will be with us every step of the way. Amen.
