St. Luke’s in the Meadow Episcopal Church
5 Epiphany – February 9, 2025
Isaiah 6:1-8; Psalm 138; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5: 1-11
Homily preached by the Rev. Canon Linda S. Taylor

I want to shout out to Heather Cox Richardson—just because everyone needs to know about her. She is an historian whose daily blog—Letters from an American—puts all the things we’re experiencing in context and usually gives me hope to go on.

Yesterday we were at diocesan council with about a million people in a room that was about 43 degrees. I had about seven or eight sermons ready for today, and I thought I was ready to go for today. Then I read Diana Butler Bass’s blog for yesterday. She’s a theologian and writer, and also writes an excellent blog, The Cottage. It popped open, and there it was. It made me realize how superficial my understanding is of the cultural and political context of today’s gospel. I knew that they’re caught up in the Roman occupation, but I didn’t realize the implications of that for Simon and his friends. I tend to think about the generations of fishermen that preceded Simon, and my picture of that has been one about hardworking men who go out and find the fish and then somehow make their living from that.

I knew about the soldiers and the tax collectors, and the ways they hurt the people, but I hadn’t realized the impact of the tax situation or the low cultural status of fishermen, fish-sellers, poultry-raisers, butchers and cooks. Lake Gennesaret and therefore everything in it, belonged to Caesar. Fishermen like Simon Peter and his brothers did not own the fish they pulled from the lake. They belonged to Caesar. The best fish were taken to the upper class folks in the cities. The next best they could sell to fishmongers, and maybe there would be enough left over fish—the ugly, scrappy ones—to feed their families. No matter how many fish they caught, there was a fee to put their boats in the water and a tax on the fish they caught. If they didn’t have enough money, they were in debt to Caesar, and that debt kept growing.

Simon Peter understands the way the world works. He is a fisherman. His brothers are fishermen, and they no doubt come from a long line of fishermen. They know fishing. They understand how fish behave. They understand when fish are caught and when they are not. They know that their nets are likely to find fish in the night and in the early morning. They know that fish are not around when the sun is shining down into the water. All fishermen know that, right? Certainly Peter knows there are no fish out there where he’s been all night. He’s spent the night throwing his nets into the water and pulling them back empty. He knows there are no fish to be caught.  He and his brothers have brought the boats in and are putting the nets away for the day.

Then Jesus comes along and commandeers the boat to put some distance between himself and the crowds who are following him. After he teaches the people, he tells Peter to go out into deep water and put in his nets. Peter knows there are no fish out there. He knows with every muscle of his aching body. He knows with every growl of his empty stomach. But listen to his words:

“Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.

Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Peter steps out in obedience and finds abundance beyond his wildest dreams. That catch was probably enough for him and his brothers to pay off their debt. That catch gave them a freedom that they probably never imagined.

Folks all over the world are preaching about this gospel today. Some of them are preaching about sin. Again. Because folks might have forgotten about it since last week. Some of them are preaching about abundance. Some are preaching about evangelism. Some are preaching about calls to service. I have a few words to say about obedience.

Obedience is easy when we understand what’s going on. Obedience is easy when we see that a desired good will happen as the result of our obedient action. Obedience is easy when the action we’re called to perform fits into our sense of the way we think the world ought to operate.  Obedience is easy when we don’t care one way or the other. But, my friends, none of those things are obedience. Those kinds of responses are agreeing with the plan—consenting to the process—being amenable to a course of action. Obedience means compliance with the directives of one in authority. I looked it up. Compliance with the directives of one in authority—whether we agree with the plan or not.

We have the directives of one in authority, and being obedient sometimes means going against

our own understanding of the world. Simon Peter had a choice to make that day in his boat. He could follow what he knew to be true about the world and keep coiling the nets. Or he could be obedient to his teacher. We have choices to make in every day. We can follow our own understanding, or we can be obedient, following the directive that often seems so counterintuitive:

Love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself.

We have choices, and they are sometimes not easy choices to make. We can choose a faith that gives us warm fuzzy thoughts and never, never, never calls us into uncomfortable situations. We can say that this is a different day—a different world—that our lives are too complex—the world is too large for us to live as Jesus taught. We have a choice. We can rely on our own knowledge to guide us, or we can step out in obedience, just as Peter did, living our lives in the light of God’s grace—living our lives as God’s children and siblings of Jesus.

One of the more difficult parts of following Jesus’ directive to love God with all our heart and love our neighbors as ourselves is trying to figure out exactly what that means. The love Jesus speaks of is not the warm sentiment that Hallmark and everyone else will be trying to sell us this week as Valentine’s Day approaches. The love he speaks of is an action—an action of keeping God as the focus of our lives—not the idols we make of our work, our play, our possessions and even our children.

The love he speaks of is an action—an action of holding the interests of those we meet as important as our own interests. How that love moves into action in our lives—how we make choices based in that love—how we determine the obedient response to the world around us—is not always crystal clear. So, the good folks who put together our current Book of Common Prayer gave us a tool for discerning what our obedience should look like.

They looked at the Apostles’ Creed, the answers to the baptismal questions that have come down to us through the ages and said—Okay, what we believe is only part of the equation. If baptism truly transforms us, what changes in our lives? What are our lives as baptized Christians supposed to look like? What does loving God look like? What does loving our neighbors as ourselves look like?

They asked themselves those questions, they identified the behaviors Jesus taught by word and example, and then offered us those questions as the basis for our baptismal covenant promises and as a way to measure our growth as members of the Body of Christ. These promises also give us a way to discern between divergent authorities. Which path invites us to the path that supports our baptismal covenant promises. Why would we choose obedience to an authority whose ways don’t align with the promises we have made?

Every choice that comes our way offers us an opportunity to listen for God’s voice. Every choice offers us an opportunity to live into our baptismal covenant promises in a way that we may not have encountered before. Every choice offers us an opportunity to throw our own nets—to live in obedience—to live in a way that carries the light of Christ into the world—to live in a way that makes others want the joy and peace they see in us—to live in a way that makes us become fishers of people.

If you don’t change something, you’re choosing it. If you’re in a situation that doesn’t fit the promises you’ve made, change it. If you don’t change it—you’re choosing it.