Luke 5:1-11

12th Sunday after Epiphany | February 6, 2022 | Lk 5:1-11 (RCL) | by David Zersen |

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; ^#and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

BEING CONFRONTED AND COMMISSIONED

I’m a visual person who finds it’s easier to be impressed by something that impacts my eyes than by something that addresses my ears. I’ve learned over decades that it’s just the way I’m put together. Maybe some of you are as well. What I see in nature or in art gives me pause. One day, some years ago, I was sitting in St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Austin, Texas, pondering one of the stained glass windows. Pictured was a fiery red-hot coal that was about to touch the tongue of Isaiah, the man speaking to us in today’s Old Testament lesson (Is.6:1-13). Clearly an unsettling thought, the idea that a burning coal might be placed on a human tongue! But this is a dream sequence that Isaiah shares with us, a moment when he experiences the majesty, the otherness of God, and feels totally inadequate, even unworthy, reflecting on it. “Woe is me” the translation reads. “I’m a man of an unclean spirit.” Then, from the Holy of Holies, from the altar of the Most High, a winged seraph brings a cleansing fire to him, a symbol of purity and perfection, and he is made one with the God who embraces him with purifying fire (see also Heb. 12).

Letting God be an Emancipating God

Admittedly, this is difficult verbiage for us to appreciate– which is why the red-hot coal in the stained glass window could impact me more profoundly than the words of this text. I do know, however, that the “otherness” of God is a concept that can be meaningful to all of us. I’ve heard many people reject belief in God because they don’t want a God who would allow hurricanes or volcanic eruptions to destroy people. They also can’t imagine a God who permits a virus to kill half-a-million people. However, as J.B. Phillips wrote in the title to his book, Your God Is Too Small, such thinking merely creates a God in human form. A God who doesn’t meet our human expectations is an anthropomorphic god, an idol. Isaiah is coming face to face with a God beyond him, a God he meets in a dream, in poetic language, in mystical and hyperbolic terms. And in the midst of such a confrontation, he knows that although “he himself is small”, the God who is more than Isaiah can imagine meets him, embraces him, accepts him and emancipates him! This God is a personal God. And when such a God frees and commissions Isaiah, he who felt worthless now shouts– “Here am I, send me”!

It’s a stunning and dramatic word picture and we can only wonder if there are moments in our own lives when we have felt overwhelmed by an encounter with the divine—perhaps even felt commissioned to be God’s ambassadors with people we encounter. Perhaps the hot coal on the tongue is an image beyond our understanding, but there are moments when we know that we have been touched or graced by more than we deserve. Think of a moment when you have been unfaithful and yet became accepted and loved. Is it a moment when a symbolic red-hot coal has purified you? Or remember a time when you misled a business partner or a friend and were reinstated. Do you not breathe fresh air that you hadn’t thought possible? What about a time when in the heat of anger you said things that you later feared could destroy your future? Then you experienced a relief because you discovered that others forgot what you found it difficult to discard. As Isaiah’s experience made clear to him, a confrontation with unexpected, even incomprehensible acceptance can make one ready to begin again, even to accept commissions and offer service to others that previously might not have been considered. Only a person who has been freed from feelings of unworthiness and guilt is ready to give of herself/himself in fresh and generous ways. We all know this from personal experience.  

Letting God be a Comissioning God

Now let me tell you why scholars chose today’s Gospel Lesson to accompany this text from Isaiah. The passage that places Peter in a boat with Jesus has a remarkable comparison to the experience that Isaiah has with God. Peter comes face to face with a troubling moment and has to admit, as did Isaiah, “Keep your distance, Lord, I’m not worthy to experience this”. Jesus, however, embraces him saying “Don’t be afraid”. In reality he’s saying that Peter may know something about fishing, but Jesus is leading him into, commissioning him for, another career. Loving Peter, accepting his shortcomings and failures, Jesus is putting Peter in the pulpit of the boat from which Jesus had been preaching to the crowd. He’s going to help Peter accept a new vocation.

You may not know that the prow of a boat, especially the raised platform that extends out from a yacht or sailing vessel, is called the pulpit, from the Latin pulpitum. It’s the place from which a harpooner might stand to harpoon a large fish or to connect the sail that sets the ship’s direction. It’s interesting for each of us to ask ourselves, we who have been freed from our sins and failures by the red-hot coal of Jesus’ blood and righteousness, what kind of pulpit is available to us from which we might share a loving perspective or a confidence in having been affirmed?

A story about a famous Indian artist gives us some insight here. P. Solomon Raj was a third generation Christian born in Neggipudi, an insignificant village in central India. Opportunities were given to him to pursue an education in the field of communication, an aspect of which was using visual images to tell a story. With both a Masters and a Doctorate in his field he could write books and articles about technical aspects of communication theory. However, pressing on his tongue was the red-hot coal of God’s overwhelming love for all humankind. He determined that using batiks and woodblock prints would be his pulpit as he sought to speak to his fellow Indians about the love of God in Christ. As a teacher, he created images which raised questions for viewers. For example, he carved a man with a crown of thorns on his head, wearing only an Indian dhoti or loincloth, who embraced a refugee family. “Who was this man, and why does he care about these refugees?” he hoped people would ask. Again he sketched a crowd of disenfranchised Muslims being held at bay by Hindu guards– and in the background, stood a man with a crown of thorns on his head. “Who was this man and on whose side was he in this conflict?” he wanted viewers to ask. This was his pulpit, an art form. He felt commissioned to use more than words to help people learn about the love of God in Christ.

It is a good question for each of us who know we have been confronted enough with our shortcomings and failures to realize that often we are simply not what we could be, what we hoped we would be!  And we can’t accept any commissions to share God’s love with others until we have accepted it for ourselves—until we know it is something that has embraced us—even us! When we know it has, when a burning red-hot coal of God’s love has touched us, then we are ready to say “Here am I, send me”.

Today is a good day to look for a pulpit, a place from which you can share the confidence that while there are aspects of God that are beyond our understanding, in Jesus we have a personal word to us. We have come to know the forgiveness and love that frees us to care for others. Perhaps in a local soup kitchen. Perhaps in letters we write to relatives or friends. Perhaps in pictures we draw for our grandchildren. Perhaps in relationships we build with people at work. Perhaps among members of an athletic team.  All can be ways through which we fashion a niche to make real the commission God gives us.

Can you think of a moment you treasure when God set you free from some guilt or fear?

What can be your pulpit from which to share your treasure?

The Rev. David Zersen, President Emeritus

Concordia University Texas

djzersen@gmail.com