Preached by the Rev. Charles Dupree at Trinity, Bloomington
"As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee
and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending
their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their
father, and followed him." (Matthew 4: 21-22)
During a recent conversation about the passage we just heard,
someone said the following: I feel sorry for father Zebedee.
Father Zebedee . . . Who’s that? He’s not really a character
that we think about in Scripture. In
this case, Mr. Zebedee is the father of the two disciples that Jesus has just
called. James and John are their names. Jesus calls these two fellows to be his
disciples and they follow. But they leave something behind - their father, Mr.
Zebedee. In that day, Mr. Zebedee would have really depended on these two sons.
He’d probably been training them since they were young boys, teaching them how
to work the boat, read the weather, pay attention to the wind. He’d taught them
how to work those nets like masterful technicians. Mr. Zebedee taught James and
John as sons, but also as business partners. They relied on each other as
family. Mr. Zebedee probably hoped to leave the family business to James and
John.
So, what’s up with this Jesus fellow coming into the picture
and messing things up? They abandon
everything that they had learned. They drop their nets. They drop their
family. They drop their father and their father’s hopes to follow Jesus.
Discipleship isn’t predictable.
It reminds me of a story told by American theologian, Will
Willimon:
William Willimon used to be the dean of the chapel at Duke
University. "One day he received a phone call from a very irate father.
The father exploded on the other end of the line, telling Willimon furiously,
’I hold you personally responsible for this!’ He was angry because his
graduate-school-bound daughter had decided (in his words) ’to throw it all away
and go and do mission work in Haiti with the Presbyterian Church.’
The father screamed, ’Isn’t that absurd! She has a B.S. degree from Duke and she is going to dig ditches in Haiti! I hold you responsible for this!’
Willimon said, ’Why me?’ The father said, ’You ingratiated yourself and filled her with all this religion stuff.’
Will Willimon is not easily intimidated. He asked the father, ’Sir, weren’t you the one who had her baptized?’
’Well, well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you take her to Sunday School when she was a little girl?’
’Well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you allow your daughter to go on those youth group ski trips to Colorado when she was in high school?’
’Yes . . . but what does that have to do with anything?’
’Sir, you are the reason she is throwing it all away. You introduced her to Jesus. Not me!’
’But,’ said the father, ’all we wanted was a Presbyterian.’
Willimon, who has an instinct for the jugular, replied, ’Well, sorry, sir, you messed up. You’ve gone and made a disciple.’"[1]
The father screamed, ’Isn’t that absurd! She has a B.S. degree from Duke and she is going to dig ditches in Haiti! I hold you responsible for this!’
Willimon said, ’Why me?’ The father said, ’You ingratiated yourself and filled her with all this religion stuff.’
Will Willimon is not easily intimidated. He asked the father, ’Sir, weren’t you the one who had her baptized?’
’Well, well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you take her to Sunday School when she was a little girl?’
’Well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you allow your daughter to go on those youth group ski trips to Colorado when she was in high school?’
’Yes . . . but what does that have to do with anything?’
’Sir, you are the reason she is throwing it all away. You introduced her to Jesus. Not me!’
’But,’ said the father, ’all we wanted was a Presbyterian.’
Willimon, who has an instinct for the jugular, replied, ’Well, sorry, sir, you messed up. You’ve gone and made a disciple.’"[1]
We don’t know if Mr. Zebedee calls up Jesus and blams him
for his sons misguided future. But I hope that Mr. and Mrs. Zebedee sees in
their children’s eyes a faithfulness – a belief that they can and will make
the world better. For Mr. Zebedee, this involves a faith of his own – trust in
his sons to be fishermen, but different kinds of fishermen.
Every single human life has a purpose. And that purpose, as we understand it, is to
bring health and wholeness to God’s world.
That purpose, whether as individuals, or as a community of faith, as our
catechism teaches us, is to restore all people to unity to God and each other
through Christ. Every single human life
is has a part to play in God’s plan for restoration. Every single human creature has an unfolding
potentiality. And when God calls and
calls and calls, God’s purpose moves closer and closer to the surface, until,
one day, we must do something about it. In the Jewish tradition, they say that
every blade of grass has an angel over it saying, ‘grow, grow, grow.’ This same kind of thing happens to us. God’s breath, God’s spirit, is moving within
and around each one of us, calling us into our full potential, and whispering, Grow, Grow, Grow.
Sometimes, this growth happens quickly, and sometimes it
takes its time. Sometimes we plan for it, and sometimes it comes out of left
field, like a child who surprises us by how they really have been listening.
They’ve been listening and watching everyday.
It’s important to note that the Zebedee son’s call does not
come to them in some holy temple. They
aren’t ordained by some bishop somewhere.
They’re not praying or doing holy things when the call comes. Their call
comes in the middle of the work day.
They’re not even out on the water. They’re on the shore, fixing their
nets. They don’t have degrees – they have
calloused hands and wind-burned cheeks. “When God calls, [we] should not think so much about who [we]
are, but about what Jesus [is making of us].”[2]
So, if you want to pick up the phone and blame someone or
something for you or someone you love being a disciple, I’m happy for the Church
to take the blame . . . The Church that fed you, shaped you, told you stories,
listened to you. The Church that married you and baptized you. The Church that
made you conscientious, compassionate, passionate. The Church that asked you to
love yourself, love God, love your neighbor. The Church that makes you scratch
your head and shake your fist in befuddlement, and the Church that helps you
fall asleep at night, knowing that you are loved. Yes. Blame the Church for all
of that. The Church can take it. Blame the church, for its role is to shape and
form disciples, and disciples you are.
Grow. Grow. Grow, disciples.
What is Jesus making of you in this moment?
Glory to God, whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine . . .
