SERMON FOR THE THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY, JANUARY 26, 2020    TEXT: MATTHEW 4:12-25
     When a tyrant like Herod demands someone be locked up, he gets his way. John the Baptist was a thorn in the king’s side, a voice of truth, a prick of conscience, that he found intolerable.The prophet publicly criticized his  immoral personal life, and according to some historical sources, he challenged the ruler’s oppressive economic policies as well. Herod had John thrown in prison to silence him.
     Upon hearing the news, Jesus withdraws to Galilee. He recognizes the danger brewing from Herod, and for the time being he removes himself from the line of fire. He keeps a safe distance between himself and the king, but he does not keep silent. He picks up where the prophet left off, proclaiming, as John did, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” If Herod found John to be a threat to his position, it is only a matter of time until he turns his attention to the even more powerful one who comes after John. The Baptist does not lay claim to political power, and neither does Jesus. But the power Jesus wields has political consequences. The king perceives this kingdom of heaven as a threat to the reign of Herod. “Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics and paralytics and he cured them. And great crowds followed him . . . .”  People who have been given hope, people who come to realize their worth in God’s eyes, people who have recovered their health and strength, they see the world and their place in it anew. And they will never again unsee what has been revealed to them, no matter how much the Herods of this world push back. 
     Here is a striking question posed by one biblical scholar: Why are there so many sick people?He regards it as a pointed reflection of the social and political conditions of the time. The structures and practices of the Roman Empire were bad for people’s health, he writes. Some 70-90% of the populace experienced varying degrees of poverty — from the very poorest to those who temporarily fell below subsistence levels. Understandings of hygiene were limited; social stresses were high; water quality was poor, food insecurity was rife, and the food available was often low in quality and limited in quantity. Such factors resulted in widespread diseases associated with poor nutrition (blindness; muscle weakness) and poor immunities, which made people easily susceptible to illnesses like dysentery and cholera. He concludes, “These kinds of diseases were death-bringing in a world that required physical labor for survival.” Jesus’ healings repair the damage inflicted by an oppressive government and enact the power of the kingdom of heaven in restoring people’s lives. Healthy, inspired people can assert themselves; they have the energy to think and dream and act. The prophet Isaiah proclaimed that in the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light; and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” Matthew sees the prophecy fulfilled in the throngs of people coming “from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan” to follow Jesus.
     One can see why Peter and Andrew, James and John jump at the chance to join Jesus in this grand venture. He calls them, and both sets of brothers answer without hesitation. “Immediately they left their nets and followed him,” Matthew says of the first pair, and of the second, “Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.” When the kingdom of heaven draws near, you drop what you are doing and welcome it. This is a matter of ultimate urgency. I was reflecting on this text during my visit with my elderly mother, and I wondered to myself if the brothers took time out to tend to their father when he became old and frail. As one commentator points out, “Jesus’ call takes priority over family commitments, a startling idea in an era when family connections were a primary source both of identity and of honor, and when the responsibility to care for one’s parents was rooted both in cultural custom and in biblical law.”   The disciples took up a new life, a new calling and community as they traveled with Jesus. Maybe there was no going home again. Maybe they left the family responsibilities to their sisters, because they had bigger fish to catch.
     “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” How do you and I do that? Sure, there have been lots of people throughout the history of the church who left everyone and everything they knew to follow Jesus— monks and nuns in the cloister, missionaries to foreign lands, converts to Christianity rejected by their families, martyrs for the faith — but there are many more who stayed put, living ordinary lives among familiar faces in places that do not loom large on the map of the world. Most of us couldn’t identify a dramatic moment of being called, when our life was turned upside down. So what part do we play in God’s grand venture, we who are not high rollers like Peter and Andrew, James and John? One of my favorite Lutheran scholars, David Lose, offers this perspective on the vocation of fishing: it is all about connecting with one another. Jesus calls the first disciples into a relationship of grace, with himself, with each other, with the people they meet along the way as they follow him. Professor Lose continues, “Jesus issues the same call to us — to be in genuine and real relationships with the people around us, and to be in those relationships the way Jesus was and is in relationship with his disciples and with us: bearing each other’s burdens, caring for each other and especially for the vulnerable, holding onto each other through thick and thin, always with the hope and promise of God’s abundant love. Sometimes that call — to be in Christ-shaped relationship with others — will take us far from home and sometimes it will take shape in and among the persons right around us.”
     My mother and I did so many things together, talked and laughed and butted heads through decades. Being my mother shaped her; being her daughter empowered me. We were the making of each other in significant ways. When I am with my mom the memories flood back, and I want to make those moments vivd again by our shared remembering. But she is lost in silence. It is as lonely as I have ever felt, having so much to share and no one to hear. At this time of her life Mom calls it a night immediately after dinner. So I sat beside her on the bed and sang her to sleep. I reworked today’s Kyrie, naming things Mom and I had done together, things she had done for me, thanking God for them and for this woman who first showed me the meaning of grace. We fished in deep waters that night. Sometimes you have to move out into the world to follow Jesus; sometimes you just need to go home. Amen.