Pentecost 7, July 23, 2006:

Two fellows decided to celebrate their retirements by taking up fishing.  They went to a first-rate sporting goods store and bought everything they needed for their new hobby.  New rods, reels, wading suits, fishing boat, a new SUV, and a rented cabin in the woods, completed the purchasing.  The first day they went out to the river but failed to catch a single fish.  The second day, much the same thing happened.  The third day they didn’t even get a nibble.  The same thing happened until the final day of the fishing trip, when they had told their wives they would be home.  On the last day, one of the fellows caught one fish.  As they were driving home they were really depressed.  One fellow turned to the other and said, “Do you realize that this one lousy fish we caught cost us about $20,000 apiece?”

The other fellow thought for a moment and said, “Wow!  It’s a good thing we didn’t catch any more!” 

I admit that I’m not a good fisherman.  I just don’t seem to have the patience that is necessary to succeed at fishing.  That, coupled with having Shirley put the worm on the hook, pretty much disqualifies me as a fisherman.  I do, however, know a thing or two about being a shepherd.  It is interesting that those two occupations are so closely linked with the earthly ministry of Jesus the Christ.  I suppose the fact that so many people depended on good fishermen and good shepherds for their very lives made it pretty obvious that Jesus would be associated with and familiar with that which brought life itself.

Fishing requires knowledge about bait, what fish might be attracted to what bait, when certain fish might be receptive to a particular type of bait, and when to refrain from fishing altogether.  The good fisherman would spend some time learning about fish and about what they might like.  The impatient fisherman or the kind that wants the fish to know who it is that’s trying to catch them rarely has much luck.  Fishermen who fish solely to compare the catch with other fishermen also find that people will finally not be impressed; especially if the fish find out they are just a number.

Mark’s Gospel for today combines fishing and shepherding.  Jesus and the apostles are on a preaching mission.  The apostles returned to tell the rabbi all that they had done and he rewarded them with some time off to rest and renew their bodies and spirits.  But, they no sooner get out in the boat to go over to the other side for retreat than the crowd finds out about it and follows them, wanting more.  The disciples, attempting to sanctify the time, wanted to send the people away to go into the towns and villages surrounding the lake to buy food for themselves and their families.  The response Jesus gives to this notion is one of the most characteristic things about his life, mission, and ministry.  He said to the disciples, “You give them something to eat.”  Their initial reaction is something like what we would have.  They said, “We have about 14 shekels in the till.  That’s not nearly enough.  Do you want us to take up a collection, even before they hear the sermon?”

Jesus’ response to that bit of rationalization is to ask the central stewardship question, “What do you have?”  Don’t tell me what we can’t do.  Don’t look at the problem from a human point of view.  “What do you have?”  Will you see this need from the point of view of scarcity?  Or will you see it from the point of view of abundance?  He asked them to see how many loaves they had around and they found five, along with a couple of sardines.  In Matthews telling of this same story the loaves and the two fish were a boy’s lunch.  Mark doesn’t give that detail.  It was, nonetheless, a pitiful offering.  So, he had the people sit down in groups of hundreds and fifties; about five thousand in all.  He took the five barley loaves and the two little fish and blessed and broke them and gave them to the disciples to distribute.  I would have been embarrassed, if that was all we had.  I have no idea at what point the loaves began to multiply.  James, standing there with a basket that is all of a sudden so heavy he can hardly carry it.  Peter, good fisherman that he was, looking down to see bits of fish falling out from the basket he carried.  Matthew, gazing into the eyes of an old enemy who remembered him from his tax collecting days, handing a hunk of bread to the man with a smile on both faces.  Young John, toting a sack over his young back, going to the group on the last hillside and stumbling under the weight of the bread and fish.  I really don’t have much to go on except the storyteller’s imagination to see it as an unfolding movie.  I invite you to do the same.  

What do you have?  That’s all God in Christ ever asks us to give.  We are loved enough by the Father in heaven to never be asked to offer what we do not have.  We don’t follow or believe in a cruel God.  But, we are reminded again and again of our need to give what we have.  Others depend on it.  God demands it.  What do you have?  You may think it is so little and can’t possibly make any difference.  That is one of the reasons people use for not giving.  You may think it really is yours to keep and hoard and hid.  That, too, is used by some as an excuse for not giving.  You may not agree that feeding people is the job for Christian folks.  Some offer that excuse for not giving.  Some think we’re just making the whole problem worse by feeding those who will be hungry again tomorrow.  That is used by some, as well.  I don’t see Jesus the Christ ever using that logic.  What do you have?  That’s his question to us.  Don’t worry if it is enough.  Don’t fool yourself into thinking it is yours to hoard or hid, fearful that there may not be enough for your own needs tomorrow.  Feeding people today does not mean we can’t work on helping them stand on their own, so that they can provide for themselves in the future.  Playing God, by participating in the scandalous political process of deciding who will live and who will die by using our food surpluses as patronage, is indefensible for a follower of Christ.

What do you have?  Offer that.  Even if it is just one fish.  Amen.