Epiphany IIIA - Mr. Zebedee

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]

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 . . . 

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[1] Sermoncentral.com

[2] Drop-Everything-Discipleship Epiphany 3 | Ordinary Time 3 from the book GOD'S DOWNWARD MOBILIty Sermons For Advent, Christmas And Epiphany, Cycle B / John A. Stroman