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February
7, 2010
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church
5th Epiphany, Year C, RCL
the Rev. Elizabeth Molitors
But
when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down
at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away
from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
- Luke 5:8
“Dynamic professional with demonstrated
capacity to effectively manage a variety
of projects.”
“Team-oriented business executive with
a highly successful track record with
start-up and turnaround situations.”
“Skilled educator with 20+ years experience
creating curricula and educating students.”
1
If
you’ve ever read a resume or written
a resume or helped a friend pull together
a resume, then you’ll recognize the
preceding lines as examples of Objective
Statements – those sentences at the
beginning of a resume where the job
seeker attempts to summarize the whole
of their professional and life experiences,
and capture the interest of a potential
employer, all in just a few words.
Job coaches and employment counselors
also advise job seekers to have prepared
a verbal version of the objective statement
– what’s commonly called the ‘elevator
speech’ – a way to present yourself
and your qualifications to someone in
the time it would take you to ride up
an elevator with them.
Qualifications. Job objectives. Elevator
speeches. These things are all curiously
absent as Jesus works to put together
his team of apostles. The gospels don’t
tell us much about their backgrounds
– we know that Matthew was a tax collector,
and that Judas Iscariot had experience
with handling money. And in this morning’s
reading from Luke, we’re introduced
to Simon Peter, and James and John,
Zebedee’s sons, who were all fishermen
together.
There’s nothing in the gospel stories
about why Jesus called whom he called
to be part of his active ministry on
earth. There’s certainly no record of
job applicants running up to Jesus,
pushing their resume into his hands
or making their case with a well-rehearsed
elevator speech, answering the question
that Jesus never asks, “So, why should
I take you on as one of my beloved disciples?”
No, the choosing process goes something
more like this: Jesus sees someone –
points, and says – “You. What about
you?” without any apparent thought given
to their experience or credentials,
how they’ll help the cause or fit in
with the rest of the team. Jesus’ recruitment
methods remind me of the scene in the
first Pirates of the Caribbean movie,
when the hapless Captain Jack Sparrow
is putting together his crew: he takes
whoever happens by, a motley assortment
of shipmates whose only qualification
seems to be their willingness to follow
Jack.
Willing to follow: that’s Jesus’ standard,
too, isn’t it?
But then there’s Simon Peter – later
known just as Peter – who has to over-complicate
things. While Jesus is issuing an invitation
to follow him, Peter brings up this
idea of his own worth, of qualifications
– or rather, disqualifications. Witnessing
what Jesus has done, making their nets
fill up with an over-abundance of fish
after having spent a long night catching
nothing, Simon Peter cries out "Go
away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful
man!" In the face of this miracle,
this show of power over creation, Peter
makes an assumption about how Jesus
operates, how he chooses, how he calls.
Peter imagines that he knows what qualifies
him to be ‘in’ or ‘out’ with Jesus,
and instead of waiting to hear from
Jesus, Peter excludes himself.
Now, who really knows why Jesus did
what he did with the nets and the fish.
Was he demonstrating to these potential
disciples his credentials? Giving them
a taste of the kinds of spectacular
miracles they could expect from him
in the future? Piquing their curiosity
and offering them a reason to give up
the lives that they knew? Or was Jesus
being, perhaps, more metaphorical? Saying,
with his own action, that how well or
how poorly these fishermen did in their
day-to-day lives didn’t really matter
to him; they couldn’t earn their way
in or out of his favor. Qualifications
and judging someone’s worth – those
are attributes of the human economy;
that’s not the currency in use in God’s
kingdom. Jesus was offering Peter and
James and John a lesson in God’s grace:
lavishness and abundance, made flesh,
in fish. All they needed to do, then,
was to accept that grace, and make a
choice to follow Jesus.
[Later] this morning, we will be celebrating
the baptism of Mia, who is 5 months
old. I love baptisms – any baptism,
with people of any age – but I especially
love that in the Episcopal Church we
can do infant baptisms. I love that
because it makes the point so clearly
that this small child who is not yet
able to speak for herself, she’s in.
Jesus calls her. Not because of qualifications
she’s already demonstrated, or gifts
she’s already put to good use, or because
of her sparkling resume or persuasive
elevator speech. She’s just in. And
so are the rest of us – not on our own
merit, but by God’s grace.
I’m afraid, though, that that’s not
a popular message in our culture. Who
are we if we’re not about achievement
and accomplishment, of distinguishing
ourselves from someone else, of making
our resume stand out in the pile?
A few weeks ago, driving through downtown
Naperville, I saw a sign in front of
a middle school that really bothered
me. The sign said, “Educating our children
to be excellent producers.” On one level,
as a parent, I can understand and appreciate
that sentiment – of course we wish our
children to have productive lives, to
be able to feed and clothe and shelter
themselves. But “excellent producers”
sounds so cold and functional and one-dimensional.
If productivity is our measure of success,
where does that leave kindness, compassion
and generosity, which may not contribute
to the bottom line? What about forgiveness
and tolerance of mistakes? What about
those children who, because of physical,
mental or social conditions fall short
of being ‘excellent producers’?
As I read today’s gospel and thought
about fish and who Jesus calls, I thought
about this children’s game that I didn’t
learn to play until I was an adult.
It’s called – keeping on with our fish
theme – Sardines. If you’ve not heard
of it, it’s a variation on the game
of hide and seek, except that instead
of everyone hiding and having one person
doing the seeking, the game is turned
upside down. One person hides, and everyone
else does the seeking. As each seeker
finds the hider, they crawl into the
hiding space as well, packing themselves
in like…sardines. If you’re not very
good at discerning hiding places or
if you’re not as fast as the other players,
that doesn’t really matter in Sardines.
You can take as long as you need to
find the hider, because the game isn’t
over until everyone is in.
Maybe that sentiment is a good foundation
for our Christian Objective statement,
our Christian elevator speech: “Flawed
but open-hearted human being, with a
willingness to trust and follow, working,
with God’s help, to make sure that no
one is left out.”
Amen.
____________
1
These three quotes taken from resumes
in Resumes that Knock ‘em Dead
by Martin Yate, 2003.
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