Thomas J Parlette
“I Am Zebedee”
Mark 1: 14-20
1/24/21
I am Zebedee. I’m a fisherman. I own a little fishing business here in Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee. It’s a lake really, but we call it a sea, even though you can see the other shore on a clear day.
My family has lived here in this area for generations. We’ve always been fishermen. That’s one of the most common ways to make a living in Capernaum. We have some carpenters in town, some bakers, some people who make clothing and sandals, farmers and shepherds too. But my family have always been fishermen. I grew up learning the trade from my father. He taught me where the fish were likely to be at what time of day. He taught me how to cast the nets and how to haul them in without falling overboard. Nothing more embarrassing for a professional fisherman than falling overboard! He taught me how to make repairs to the boat when I needed to, and of course, how to mend the nets. We do a lot of that. After every catch is hauled in, it seems we get another tear in the net. So we spend a lot of late mornings and afternoons sitting on the beach weaving rope together and tying off knots to fix the holes in our nets. Most days it’s a pretty nice way to spend your time – sunshine, a breeze coming in off the water, something worthwhile to do. I spent a lot of time talking to my father and my brothers about the ins and outs of life while we sat on that beach.
So as I grew up and my father handed the business over to me, I was thrilled when my own sons were old enough to start working with me. They started coming out on the water when they were pretty young – they were always big, strong boys. They were forever wrestling and rough-housing – you know how boys are. They had a bit of a reputation around Capernaum. “Loud” and “Boisterous” would be the words most people would use. And they’re boyhood friend, Simon, was the same way. The three of them together would rush head long into things, not giving a thought to the consequences. More than once I had to give them a stern talking to – but they were good boys. Their hearts were in the right place.
I loved those days when they were just learning the trade with me. I passed down my knowledge to them just like me father had down for me. How to keep your eyes on the water to see the shadows that might mean a school of fish, how to position your partner on the hillside on shore to see what you could not, how to recognize a change in the wind or the clouds that might mean a storm was rolling in. That was an important skill on the Sea of Galilee – weather could change in a flash and all of a sudden a squall would roll in and you are just hanging on in the midst of three feet white caps. That might not sound like much, but in our little boat, that was a big deal! It was easy to fall overboard or capsize. Things happen fast on the Sea, even if it is really a lake.
But my favorite times were onshore, sitting around a little fire, eating some fresh caught fish, usually carp or tilapia. We would mend our nets, rib each other about the events on the water and laugh a lot. Every so often things would get serious and I would talk to them about the young ladies of the village – their mother and I always had our eyes peeled for who might be a suitable wife for our sons. We would talk about the future and how one day the business would go to them. I remember they would glance at each other and look away without saying a word. I never said anything to them, but I always had a vague suspicion that they might want something more than a simple life on the water in my beloved Capernaum. Just a feeling I sometimes had.
Then one day, there he was. I had heard stories about this teacher who had created quite a stir in a synagogue in Nazareth, about 30 miles away. He had just recently come to town. We were all a bit wary of this guy – who was he? Why was he here? What did he want? And then… there he was… by the shore of the Sea.
His first stop was up the beach a bit where we could overhear him talking to Simon and his brother, Andrew. Sound carries around the lake, it’s easier to hear what everyone is saying. I remember what he said like it was yesterday – “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”
Fish for people – yea right, what does that even mean? I scoffed a little under my breath at this teacher they called Jesus. But then I could see him coming our way. We were sitting there in our boat, working on our nets with a couple of other guys from the village I had hired for the day. Jesus says “Follow me…” My boys glanced at each other, took a beat – and then put down the net, hopped out of the boat and started walking down the beach with Simon, Andrew and Jesus.
I couldn’t believe it! I was flabbergasted. At first, I couldn’t say a word. I stood up in the boat and shouted after them – “Where do you think you’re going! You can’t just up and leave! What about the business! I need you.” But they just kept walking.
At first, I was angry. How could they do this! I could understand Simon being taken in by a smooth talking prophet – he was always a little rash – but I thought my boys had more sense than that. I thought they wanted to take over my business, make a good life for themselves. Guess I was wrong. After my anger subsided, I just felt sad. I felt abandoned. I was afraid of what the future held for my sons.
I felt like that for a couple of days. I lost my appetite. I couldn’t bring myself to go fishing. I couldn’t do much of anything. I would just sit outside the house and whittle a piece of wood.
One day, a friend of mine from the village stopped by to see me. He had heard what had happened on the beach – everybody in the village knew, everybody talks so everyone knows everybody’s business. He knew I was having a hard time with this, so he stopped by to see me.
He told me about a dream he once had. He dreamed he was laying on his deathbed, close to dying. All around his bed were ghostly figures representing all the potential life choices he could have chosen, but didn’t. Ghosts of wasted potential. Gifts and talents and opportunities that he had never acted on. And these ghosts were angry. They were angry because their presence had been wasted on him. All that potential – wasted! One of the ghosts glared down at him and said, “We came to you because you could have brought us to life. And now we go to the grave together.”(1)
I thought to myself, what a terrifying dream!
And then my friend suggested, “Maybe the boys felt those ghosts hovering around them and they didn’t want to waste this opportunity to follow Jesus.”
I didn’t sleep much that night. Or the night after. But then one morning, I took a long walk in the countryside to clear my head. Maybe my friend had a point. Maybe James and his little brother John needed to go off and take a new opportunity, a new adventure to fulfill their potential. Maybe they felt this prophet Jesus met a need they needed to fill.
I was mulling this over when I met a young traveler on the road. We stopped on the path, sat down in the shade of an olive tree and shared a drink of water. He was on his way to Jerusalem to find a job and make a life for himself. His family were farmers and not doing well, so he wanted to go into business in Jerusalem, maybe become a merchant or something, so he could send money home to his family. Then he said something I’ll never forget. Something I needed to hear as I pondered my son’s life choices. This young traveler said, “A good provider is One who leaves.”(2)
Initially that made no sense to me. I had always thought that a good provider stays – a good provider sticks around, stays with what he knows, plays it safe and makes the family business work. A good provider doesn’t leave – a good provider stays put.
But this young man pointed out that he wasn’t running away from his life – he was running towards something better. It was risky, yes. It was going to be rough and uncomfortable for a while. He was probably going to be in over his head for a time, living out of his comfort zone. But he was confident that road would lead him somewhere better. And if he wanted to be a good provider, this is what he needed to do.
We parted company – he went his way, I went mine. I thought about what he said as I walked home to Capernaum. A good provider is one who leaves. The idea stuck in my head. Then I thought, maybe that applies to being a disciple as well. When you commit to following someone, to be a disciple, you commit to leave your work to serve somewhere else. Maybe a good disciple is also one who leaves the comfortable for the uncomfortable. Maybe a good disciple is the one who leaves the familiar for the unfamiliar. Maybe the good disciple is one who leaves?
That’s what my boys James and John had done, along with their buddies Simon and Andrew. They left what they knew to follow one who offered them more.
I felt much more at peace when I got home. I slept better than I had in days. And when I got up in the morning, I was finally ready to get on the water again and catch some fish.
By the way, the boys did come back to Capernaum with Jesus and a few other guys. They stayed for awhile, living out of Simon’s house. Jesus did some pretty amazing things. He was a great teacher, I will give him that. And he was a gifted healer as well. He healed Simon’s mother-in-law and a bunch of other people around town, including one local guy who was possessed by a demon.
But then they left, as good disciples do. And they travelled all over Galilee. I will miss my sons, James and John. But I understand their choice and I wish them well. They go with my blessing.
May God be praised. Amen.
1. Based on a story in Dynamic Preaching, Vol. XXXVII, No. 1, p19.
2. Based on a story in HomileticsOnline, retrieved 12/28/2020.
