But why?

 ‘… If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down...’ (Luke 13:9)

Luke 13:1-9 (Year C: Lent 3)

Once upon a time a teacher of theology asked ‘Does God suffer?’ to which a student replied ‘Do people suffer?’. 

That people suffer is plain to everyone. That some people suffer enormously over all statistical averages is also plain to see. But, why? I have wondered too.

After a lifetime of observation it seems to me that there is no clear answer to this particular question (why people suffer as much as they do). Sure enough, much human suffering is caused by selfishness, cruelty and corruption. Sometimes those perpetrating violence that brings enormous sufferings to others may deny or rationalise it.  Even if the indiscriminate dropping of bombs from the air on densely populated cities may be rationalised as ‘less worse’ than some alternative scenario (history is full of such examples) it must surely be the case that at least some pilots, generals and other technical staff involved in bombing missions or other acts of war were traumatised by what they had done – quite apart from the unspeakable suffering of those on the ground surviving or maimed or dead. And, closer to home, there are some who have also perpetrated war in the name of a cause with terrible consequences for others that we do not hear so much about these days.

Then there is suffering caused by life and all that goes with it – getting sick, receiving a bad prognosis, seeing a loved one slip into dementia or natural catastrophes that fall upon people – good people.  Every so often some voice is raised ‘Why would your God allow such terrible things to happen?’. Those of us who believe in an infinitely compassionate and loving God, if we are honest, have no convincing or logically water-tight answer to this question. What we do know and can practice is compassion in a cruel world marked for the most part by people who are generous, courageous and virtuous.

bad things happen to good people...

When Jesus was confronted with stories of what happened in the massacre of the Galileans where the Roman soldiers ran amuck or ‘those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them’ he had to be honest with those listening.  Those listening including not a few listening today in parts of the world and the church will have notions of a fierce, vengeful and detached God who enforces cruel justice and punishes those who sin.  For these folk, wars, epidemics and various sufferings were and are the price of sin.  We are reminded of the question posed to Jesus in John 9:2 ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’.  But, in the gospel of Luke we are not told that Jesus assigned responsibility for this suffering on the victims who had broken God’s law. We know enough from reading all of the gospels and not least that of Luke that God, in Jesus Christ, came not to condemn, not to punish, not to afflict but to save, to heal and to restore.  However, suffering is the reality for all human beings and some much more than others. The point is that Jesus knew how to draw from his suffering the very power that would not deliver us from suffering here and now but lead us to a place of acceptance and conquest. ‘Bearing with it’ was not the message for those who were poor, excluded and despised as a result but rather ‘woe to you rich’ (Luke 6:24) who deprive others of goods, power and respect.

In other words we are responsible in our ways, whether we like it or not, for needless suffering as a result of things we have said and done and things we failed to say and do that we should have done. Put another way, we are individually responsible for some degree of injustice and damage in our personal relationships whether at home or at work or somewhere else.  But, the story does not end there. There is ‘structural sin’ embedded in the way that societies and polities are constructed and in the way that relationships of power and dominance operate in this world.  In a way, we can be part of, and responsible for, that too. Perhaps the saddest aspect of this type of ‘structural sin’ is that we may do it in the name of God or some other cause because we have never engaged with an alternative story or possibility. We can sit in armchairs observing the world and pontificating on how others should live not really knowing anything of their sufferings or never having faced the difficult question of how one would think or feel if this or that happened to oneself or one’s family. The saying ‘don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it’ could be rephrased ‘don’t knock it unless you have been through it yourself’. Indeed.

To say all of this is not to avoid one of the key messages in this text and which is built on a separate question of ‘why do good people suffer?’, namely: if we do not turn from lies, selfishness and cruelty towards others then we, too, will experience huge suffering and destruction (perishing). For ‘unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did’ Jesus tells us (verse 5). Life is short and eternity is long as one saying goes.  In this life we have a beautiful opportunity to live by truth, goodness and beauty. The passing of years and the experience of bereavement involving one’s parents or even the next generation – our generation – brings home the reality that life is precious and to be embraced in the here and now. The question of ‘life after death’ needs to be matched with the question of ‘life before death’.  On the latter question we can, hopefully, agree with people who do not hope beyond death. Ours is not to force our values and views on others but rather live in such a way that these same values and beliefs we say we stand by are curious, attractive, meaningful and life-giving for others – including those who given up believing and hoping a long time ago.

our time is precious...
In hearing this gospel we are reminded that our lives are precious, that there is no room for complacency and that time is constantly getting shorter. This is not a reason for gloom or neurotic anxiety about this sin or that sin, about this broken relationship or that broken relationship or about this omission and that omission. There are remedies for failure. These include a stubborn trusting in God’s mercy and help no matter what. They also include recourse to those means of grace that God puts in our way: a walk in the mountains, sharing a cup of tea with someone, a book, a project. Add to this times of grace spent in reflection, prayerful reading of the great poetry and stories of the Bible and confession.  Confession?  The Irish took the blame for inventing individual auricular confession but the practice has biblical roots.  Leave it like this:

• All may
• Some should
• None have to

In the story or parable of the fig tree we are told figuratively that following three years of trial the vines were given another year to bear fruit or face being ‘cut down’. In three year’s time a few of us may not be around to hear this particular Gospel reading on the 3^rd Sunday of Lent (Year C).  Most of us will be around but of one thing we can be sure – if we live we will be three years closer to death.  The time for repentance or metanoia in Greek – is now. A metanoia of heart, mind, attitude and behaviour now.  That is the key message in this week’s reading from Luke. The now of the Gospel.

Many are the regrets of some as they enter the final third of their living years. But, one regret we will not have is that we loved too much and lovingly gave away too much whether by virtue of time, money and our very own lives. The question of human suffering is seen for what it is – a call to compassion.

postscript

The story is told of someone who was about to quit a very busy career at fifty something and said ‘I am burnt out, cynical and have nothing further to contribute. Anyway look at my age’.  A kind friend two decades older than her said: ‘if only I was your age again’.  

One of those moments

 ‘… When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent..’ (Luke 9:36)

Luke 9:28-36 (Year C: Lent 2)

                                                        http://www.biblewalks.com/Sites/tabor.html

 (The choice of Gospel reading for this Sunday – 21^st February 2016 – is aligned with the cycle of readings used in the Roman Catholic church. It is the story of the Transfiguration. Last year it was the turn of Mark to tell the Transfiguration story (Basking in the Sunshine or should we say Sonshine?!).  This year it is the turn of Luke. The choice of reading, here, differs from other cycles such as the Revised Common Lectionary where the story of the Transfiguration is told on the Sunday before Lent.  To paraphrase Winston Churchill the only thing that divides us now is the English language and the cycle of Sunday readings once or twice a year!).

Standing back from it all

Every now and again we need to be taken out of our routine comfort zones and be surprised by joy.  This happened to Peter, John and James on a mountain top where Jesus took them. Mountains were always favourite places for dreamers, poets and wise persons.  The Irish landscape is dotted with stone arrangements on hill tops showing us that our ancestors had a special connection with these places and what lies beyond (or below). In some parts of the world it has been customary for monastic communities to pitch their ‘tent’ on high ground. Indeed, the site of the story of the transfiguration is believed to be Mount Tabor – a two hour walk from Jesus’ home village of Nazareth and about 25 kilometres from the southern shores of Lake Galilee which lay to the East of Mount Tabor. No doubt Jesus had been there many times before and beheld the beauty of the surrounding countryside as he marked out with his eye the places where he grew up.  In all likelihood Jesus and his three friends made the ascent early in the morning before the heat of noonday and on a good day with a blue sky as one does in such warm and exposed climates.

And taking time out

Above it all whether on Cave Hill in Belfast or Killakee in Dublin people can look down on the city and spot their dwelling, place of work or some other landmark.  There is a peace in looking at a city where 100,000s go about their busy lives. The gentle hum of traffic in the distance only adds to a sense of peace. Sundays can be a good day to take off for high ground especially if it is dry and sunny which it can happen at least two to three weekends a year in Ireland! There you will find the serious walking club folk, the odd couple arguing about finances and children or something else, the other odd couple debating the general election, the overseas visitor marvelling at forty shades of green, the boisterous troop of scouts and the loner in search of peace.

We don’t need to travel alone

Jesus needed a break in the midst of a busy ministry in Galilee. He had a strong sense that his time of extreme tribulation was nearing and he had warned his friends about this just before the mountain experience. He needed to draw apart for a little while and pray – with three chosen disciples (might there be a theological significance in bringing three to what was to be revealed?).  So, Jesus went up the mountain to pray – for his disciples and everyone else. There, a response was given to the witnessing disciples: ‘Listen to him!’ (v.35). We don’t need to climb mountains alone or keep those glory moments to ourselves. The Christ’s religion is a community religion. We travel with others and never alone.

Comfort religion?

Key to understanding the Transfiguration is what happens just before it. Some eight days before (to quote Luke) Jesus has a very frank conversation with his friends. Not only was Jesus himself faced with death and rising again but, he went on to tell them

‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.' (Luke 9:23)

We may note that in the Transfiguration the highly significant persons of Moses and Elijah and appear and disappear to leave the disciples standing with Jesus, alone.  Readers of Luke in around 80 A.D. would not have missed the point that the old order or religion is giving way to a new deal – one in which the Messiah has come and it is to his voice that we now listen for that life that surpasses our greatest dreams.  Moses and Elijah are not cancelled out; rather their ministry is now done and taken up into the work of Jesus, the Son of God. The transfiguration story reaches back in time to the ‘exodus’ of the chosen people (the Greek word for ‘departure’ cited in verse 31 – ‘They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem’) and it reaches forward to a new covenant between the nations of the world and the Messiah.  But, first there must be a time of great suffering and passing from the old to the new order. The disciples Peter, James and John have been warned already before ascending the mountain that they, too, would suffer like Jesus.  But, this does not stop Peter proposing the erection of three ‘tents’ (this links to the Jewish festival of Tabernacles recalling the time when the Hebrews wandered for 40 years in the desert).  But, clinging to Moses and Elijah (the good old order) as well as clinging to that extraordinary and glorious scene on the top of this mountain will not do. The point of the story is that we only have Jesus to cling to now and Moses and Elijah, for the benefits of Luke’s readers in the 80’s, confirm this. Put another way, the Transfiguration offers little by way of ‘comfort religion’ either then or now.

From glory to agony and back again

The story of the transfiguration is also a story about journeys.  To climb a mountain with one’s friends and experience, there, the mysteries of God’s glory is one thing. To come down from that mountain and face certain death is another. This is the point of the story.  We need moments of ‘glory’ and deep, replenishing joy. Deep joy. This is our food and our strength for the journey that lies ahead. The transfiguration was a dress rehearsal for the Agony in the Garden on the eve of Jesus’ crucifixion (Luke 22:39-46).  We note the strong parallels: a mountain; Jesus with the very same Peter, James and John; people sleeping while another prays; conversation; foreboding and heavenly comfort. Life has a funny habit of repeating itself.

But, what if we are stuck in a cloud on the top of the mountain (a particularly frequent occurrence on Irish mountains where all three and a half seasons can happen in the space of a few hours!).?  We stay put and listen.  In another story that has strong parallels to the transfiguration we read that (Exodus 40:34-38):

 Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.  Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud settled upon it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. Whenever the cloud was taken up from the tabernacle, the Israelites would set out on each stage of their journey; but if the cloud was not taken up, then they did not set out until the day that it was taken up. For the cloud of the Lord was on the tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, before the eyes of all the house of Israel at each stage of their journey.

Into the cloud of unknowing

The cloud represents the presence of God. But, very often in our lives we are stuck in a ‘cloud of unknowing’ (also the title of a work of an English mystic in the late 14^th century and which should be read by everyone at least once in a lifetime). Ours is a state of not knowing what next or who or where. The temptation is to try to remain fixed or fixated in a moment of glory and consolation. Some seek solace in narcotics, food, etc. Others seek solace in ‘religion’ and ‘spirituality’. Each is understandable. We are only human. But, the real deal is not this or that thing or person or relationship: it is the love of God that speaks to us in silence in the depths of our hearts in this cloud of unknowing. And when the cloud lifts we move on.

The reality is that we may find ourselves alone and confused in a cloud of unknowing but it is only afterwards we see that we were not alone. There is a lesson here each time. At the time of unknowing we were greatly afraid just like the disciples. Then we saw back like on CCTV that there was nothing to be afraid of.  We should savour and recall such moments of realisation and insight afterwards but not cling on to them. These moments enable us to move on and embrace what lies ahead. 

(could we also name Transfiguration Sunday Fortification Sunday. God knows we need it)

Postscript

Did that ‘man with a mission’, Pádraig Pearse, get inspiration from Sunday walks in Killakee above Scoil Éanna where he taught when he penned the line ‘this road ahead of me’.? Or, indeed, did that other Dublin ‘man with a mission’ of ‘who shall separate us fame’, Edward Carson, draw inspiration from the Dublin mountains overlooking Wesley College where he went to school? We will never know. Beware of ‘men with a mission’!

Love will win out in a time of testing

 ‘…Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness..’ (Luke 4:1)

Luke 4:1-13 (Year C: Lent 1)

A story of one man up the road in Beirut

The author of the book An Evil Cradling, Brian Keenan, recounted his experience over four years in captivity in Beirut in the late 1980s. For most of this time, when not in solitary confinement, he was blindfolded and chained by hand and foot. Not many human beings could go through such an ordeal without enormous reserves of faith, hope and love.  (My late uncle who spent time in a Chinese gaol in the 1940s was one such person.)

By various accounts Brian Keenan was not and is not a ‘religious’ person – at least not in the conventional sense. In an interview with the BBC some years ago he is quoted as saying:

In desolate empty spaces you can find an invisible portal which you can pass into. In a way this allows you to pass into yourself and look into yourself. That to me is a religious experience. This has nothing to do with all the riches of the church.

He goes on to say:

I can't find anything nourishing in churches great or small. I find religion is all about control not liberation. I go to church quite a lot because I am impressed by the buildings and what they are supposed to represent, but it is only in empty desolate spaces that I find whatever is luminous; whatever is holy, whatever this 'other' thing is.

A time and a place of struggle

This Sunday’s gospel reading is a typical start of Lent reading. It recalls Jesus’ 40 days and night in the desert where he was tried and tempted and where, we are told, he ‘ate nothing at all’ during this time. The desert (or the ‘wilderness’ as Luke calls it) is a place not only of refuge and withdrawal but a place of vicious struggle, temptation and for us – doubt. There are times where we need to retreat to a ‘wilderness’ and face our own inner thoughts and spirits – good and bad.  The evangelist Mark tells us (1:12-13) that Jesus was there in the wilderness ‘with wild beasts’. There are times when we find ourselves in a ‘wilderness’ not by choice but by circumstances or by compulsion from others, as in the lived experience of Brian Keenan. In that place, we struggle with some ‘wild beasts’ within often unseen, unnamed and unknown. In the wilderness we find ourselves alone – very alone.

Light relief?

It might be that every so often we find ourselves in a superficial place of desert without network coverage, wifi, social media, TV channels, the pub banter, the office kitchen table or the living room where family and friends tell stories and sing to each other on a Sunday evening (before TV arrived!). One remembers nostalgically a time when people went out for a meal to chat and update and gossip or admire the surroundings – all without peering into that little screen with 3 new notifications or likes on your latest post. 

Then again, it might be a case of entering into our own ‘dark spaces’ where we come face to face with who we are or who we think we are – not what others think. This is scary and most people (I reckon) are very disinclined to go there. But, there are plenty of quacks and sellers of spirituality to offer company into those spaces. A real anam-chara (not properly translatable but roughly the Irish for soul friend) is one in a million (or maybe 10 million - who knows?).

The devil, the world and the flesh

The wilderness plays a crucial role in the life and ministry of Jesus. As an infant he was escorted across the wilderness into North-East Africa. As a child and young man it is highly probable that he had occasion to cross some part of the wilderness with others.  At the start of his ministry after the baptism by his cousin at the river Jordan he made for the desert but did so ‘full of the Holy Spirit’ and ‘led by the Spirit’ (Luke 5:1).  After his trials in the desert he headed back to Galilee ‘filled with the power of the Spirit’ (Luke 4:14). In the gospel of Luke the Holy Spirit is everywhere.  And we believe that this same Spirit was with Jesus in his desert struggles. There, he struggled not with any demons inside him but the demons outside him or what is charmingly called the ‘devil, the world and the flesh’:

From al the deceytes of the worlde, the fleshe, and the devill: Good lorde deliver us. As it says in the Book of Common Prayer (the old version!).

Even ‘the devil can quote scripture’ and this passage of the gospel is one of those rare occasions when the devil is allowed to speak.  Quoting Psalm 90:11-12 (the devil knows his bible very well indeed):

‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, “He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you”, and “On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.”’

But Jesus stood firm and responded as follows:

‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test’.

There would be no further engagement with the Evil One until the appointed time at Gethsemane and Calvary which were ‘an opportune time’.   It was a case of the National Car Test or MOT that comes back to try us every so often:

When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until ‘an opportune time’.

Anam-chara

The challenge for us is that in many ways the things we struggle with are within –  planted there by upbringing, some bad choices perhaps along the way as well as distorted ideas and assumptions that may result from the actions or words of others. It might even be the case that we are burdened by ‘bad’ religion with its distorted and untrue images of God and righteous living.   But, we have to take responsibility for dealing what is there deep within. Moreover, we cannot deal with these things without the ever present help of the Holy Spirit who is the anam-chara of the anam-chara.  This is how we might discover the light, the goodness and the truth planted deep within us as it is within every human soul.  This is hard work and doesn’t get sorted out over 40 days and 40 nights.

Four methods of defence

In the ‘desert’ we have four forms of defence which also enable us to move forward:

1. Anam-chairdeas (spiritual friendship which, for example, was the stuff of early monastic life);
2. Heartfelt prayer even when we don’t feel like it;
3. Discipline of mind and heart which goes way beyond decisions about whether to take sugar in the tea; and
4. Generosity and compassion which are powerful and subversive weapons in this world.

And not forgetting angels

And what about references to angels ‘ministering’ to Jesus found in Matthew and Mark but not, here, in Luke? Perhaps God in his infinite wisdom and kindness sends angels to us at such testing times? And such angels may not have wings etc.

A Lenten reading suggestion

There is a practice in some Christian monastic communities of reading a special book for the period of Lent in addition to the solid diet of scripture. It is part of the Lenten discipline. I wonder if An Evil Cradling might qualify for Lent 2016?.

And I leave Brian Keenan speak a few lines here:

"There's a marked difference between aloneness and loneliness. I quite enjoy solitude but loneliness is different. We all need somebody to talk to, explain things to. If we don't have that we don't have validation and life lacks meaning."Having said that I think everybody has a place inside themselves that you alone can go to. You know how to get there because you've got a key. When you go there it can be deeply enriching- it can also be a bit disturbing because it forces you to look at yourself. That's what aloneness is to me."When you enter the power house of prayer you had better be wearing an asbestos suit because you are going to get roasted. I believe in prayer but you really have to know what you are doing because things will happen and then you have to deal with them."

Roll on Easter

Though we may have no choice in the matter; living in a dark space characterised by aloneness, struggle and doubt can be a time of grace. The truth is that:

• We are never alone when there is a mustard seed of faith and trusting;
• We are responsible in the choices we make and ‘yeses’ and ‘no’s’ that we give; and

 In the end Love will triumph over every adversity, every captivity, every sickness and every evil. Roll on Easter but we have to walk there through this wilderness.

Called out into deep waters

 ‘…Put out into the deep water..’ (Luke 5:4)

Luke 5:1-11 (Year C: Lent-1)

                                           

The choice of Gospel reading for this Sunday – 7^th February 2016 – is aligned with the cycle of readings used in the Roman Catholic church. This differs from other cycles such as the Revised Common Lectionary.  For most of the year the various cycles in use coincide for the purposes of the Gospel reading.

The starting point of this story is the teaching of Jesus and the pressure from, and eagerness of, the crowds to hear his words – ultimately the Word of God.  There is an urgency here. The occasion is characterised by teaching, miracle, call and following – in that order. The story is unique to Luke among the four gospels although some parts of the story such as Jesus’ preaching from a boat and references to fishing echo other passages in the gospels.

Leaving everything is a choice some make to pursue goal in life. Often it is associated with someone who senses a call to a religious life (or a ‘vocation’ to same) and this call is confirmed after suitable trial by the appropriate persons or community. It is said that someone ‘leaves everything’ behind as in family, job, community or in some cases country.  Applied to other walks of life someone may decide to leave most things behind at least for some years pursue a line of action – parenting, an education course or a programme of physical training related to sport.

To choose the better part

In an important step such as marriage the couple making vows promise to ‘forsake all others’.  In this way, a person decides on a way of life or a relationship or a goal to the exclusion of something else – often very good things. However, something precious is chosen over other good things. This is the nature of human choice and it is based on our freedom and rationality as human beings to make informed choices and undertake commitments that last many years or – in the case of marriage as a lifelong union or commitment ‘until death do us part’.

In this story of ordinary fishermen going about their work we get glimpse of how very ordinary people can be called to do extraordinary things in a very ordinary way.  The fisherman were not graduates of a rabbinic theological school (yes they were all men but it is also true that they were Jews living in the first century which means that various forms of Christian service is broader than ethnic identity or gender). They were not polished professionals, soldiers or learned academics. They were not well-to-do nobles. They were not even particularly pious devotees or heroic desert ascetics. They were ordinary guys with lots of warts, baggage and passions. The key point is that they were prepared to trust Jesus in going out for a second attempt at a fish catch though it seemed completely useless and beyond their capacities.

Trust and surrender are the foundations of an answer to a call. Trust and surrender spell courage and decision. Because courage is involved Jesus says to his hearers ‘Do not be afraid’. He is also saying that to you and me today.

We travel not alone

A detail in the story concerns a call for help by those disciples who went out to fish a second time. So overwhelmed by the catch of fish were they that they shouted for help from their other companions in ‘the other boat’. There are times when we need to ‘shout for help’. And this also has relevance when considering which path to follow. There is more than one boat and there is more than just a solitary individual. We are called together to walk together and to support each other on this journey. We live in the shadow of each’s others ‘response-ability’ (responsibility being an amalgam of two words).

So big was the catch that Peter and his companions feared that their boat would capsize and they would be drowned. In a way, we are, today, part of that large catch on Lake Gennesaret. Because Peter and his companions were ready to trust and to follow they were led to win many peoples to Christ and the story and the electric current of life spread as far east as China within a few generations (as the archaeological evidence now suggests) and as far west as Fanad peninsula in Ireland.  Who knows what happens when very ordinary people trust, surrender and follow?

Discipleship and family values.

We don’t know how many were married but the scriptural sources indicate that Simon Peter was married (for example reference is made to the healing of his mother-in-law). We know from the gospel of Matthew (4:21) that the father of the disciples James and John was present with them (and it seems that he too engaged in fishing). The evangelist Mark (1:20) tell us that ‘they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him’. There was no time to lose. There was an urgency and a pressure to move on, to seek out, to heal, to explain and to announce. But, who were the sons of Zebedee to leave their ageing father behind? And might Simon Peter have been better advised to go home and look after his family including his mother-in-law? And were the twelve who were called particularly suitable in the first place?  What about ‘family values’?  Indeed, family values and sacred commitments must come first.  But, the world then and the world now is a lot less tidy, dualistic and compartmentalised as our rationalistic Western minds suppose.  We find it difficult to deal with ‘both and’ rather than ‘either or’.

As things turned out we learn that the initial band of apostles (the twelve) were not particularly reliable or solid. At least some of them ran for the hills when the chips were down. In summary, these guys were not obvious ‘vocational material’ and would hardly have made it through a battery of tests and discernment processes for selection to follow Jesus to the cross and beyond.

Why did Jesus call them? How did they respond?  We note the following:

• As far as we know there was nothing particularly exemplary in the lives of those chosen (‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ said Peter in verse 8)
• Social status and/or learning were not evidently a condition for being called (fishing did not require a university degree even though it calls for amazing human strength, intuition, stamina etc.).

What does emerge is that ordinary people going about their daily business made a personal encounter with someone who had a profound effect on them at that moment in their lives.  There was no hanging around when the disciples reached the shore after their fishing expedition.  They just simply ‘left everything and followed him’. We are not told that they went for counselling or assessment or that they had to go back to their villages or homes to explain themselves –  important and necessary as these things are in good measure nowadays. True, anyone embarking on a path of special ministry or mission needs to be trained and equipped intellectually, morally and physically and they need to know and understand that and, not least of all, their proposed service needs to be discerned in the community of disciples. We must trust the Holy Spirit in the community even if at times it is hard to understand why and what.  It took two millennia for Christians to open up the threefold ministry of episcopoi, presbuteroi and diakonai (bishop, priest and deacon) to women and there is still progress to be made….  Whereas the Holy Spirit can be a quick mover and teacher perhaps the churches can be slow learners!

So what…?

Scholar and bishop Tom Wright asks a relevant question:

It is all the more important that we ask ourselves, perhaps with pencil and paper at the ready: what have we to be thankful for? What gifts have we received at God’s generous hands? What are the signs of God’s strange work in our own day, our own place, our own churches? (Wright, Paul for everyone: Galatians and Thessalonians, page142)

Transposed 2,000 years we see many people called to many different forms of service in the church. It’s not all about taking the lead in some act of worship or announcing the good news. Most forms of heroic service are at kitchen table, the baby’s crib, the bedside where one is holding the hand of another who is dying, the shanty towns, the dangerous places in city centres and in underground of political resistance to evil regimes. However, there is scope and room for people to step forward and answer a call to service in those places where the need arises. Age, sex, gender, status, CV, family history and theological training are not the primary determining factors in God’s call. Rather, the sacrament of baptism and the huge and amazing ‘response-ability’ it places on us is the primary drive.  But, those called need to be equipped and trained and they need to really live out the Word of God that they announce to others. The harvest is plentiful but many people are starving. Some urgency tempered by prudence and discretion and testing of the spirits is necessary.  But, as one commentator on this passage of the Gospel put it:

‘Put out into the deep. Take a risk; allow him to love you and see where it leads!’(Úna Allen, Furrow, January 2016)