3/17/57

Scripture: Luke 5: 1-11.

There is a lot of patience involved in fishing. Now and then the fisherman runs into the spot where, at the right time of the right day in the right kind of weather the fish will bite. Then he knows the tingling thrill of the strike, and the “twittering” tug on his line, as he plays a fish and (if he is skillful and fortunate) pulls it in. Maybe he gets several fish for his catch of the day. After that kind of day he may be so pleased that he will say, as I have heard one inveterate angler remark: “I have fished in this little lake so long that I thing I’m beginning to be almost as smart as the fish are.” And it is true that he usually can get a catch if anybody can! But some of the rest of us can putter around, trying for the fish at nearly the same places and times, and get nothing but sunburn! Even the real fisherman has days when nothing happens except the knowledge that he has tried!

Simon Peter was a man who had had such frustrating times. But, with him it was more than frustration or fun. Fishing was his livelihood. For he and his brother, and their neighbors, fished with nets in the sea of Gennesaret for their livelihood. They had to make occasional good catches, or go without the necessities which their fishing provided them.

On one occasion in particular, they had been night fishing. They had tried all night long, and had got nothing sea weed and snags. In weariness and disgust, they were cleaning, drying, and mending their nets the next morning, when a traveling preacher named Jesus, from the town of Nazareth, came by. Not only Jesus, but a lot of other people came along the shore. For that crowd of folk were intent on hearing what Jesus might have to say to them. Jesus felt so crowded and jostled by the over-eager listeners that he stepped into one of the fishing boats (the one that happened to belong to Peter) and asked the fisherman to put out from shore just a little bit. Having gained a little room for himself in that way, Jesus sat down and began to talk from the boat to the people on the shore.

What he said is not recorded. It may be that he elaborated some of his Sermon on the Mount to them. Or perhaps he illuminated some part of the Scripture for them by use of a pointed story or parable. Luke does not tell us what was said on that day. In any event, when Jesus had finished speaking, he turned to the fisherman and said to Peter, “Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” Peter took a dim view of this advice. He and his neighbors had spent the whole night trying to catch something; and the fish just weren’t there. “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing.” But, on second thought, Simon Peter went on: “But at your word, I will let down the nets.” So he and his crew did put out the nets. And they enclosed a school of fish so numerous that the nets were full, and beginning to break, as they tried to land the catch. Indeed, the boat sank lower and lower in the water with the weight of what the fishermen were trying to pull aboard. They called to their partners, John and James, in the other boat to come and help them and both boats settled low in the water with the catch.

Peter was more than just elated. Something about the incident, and about Jesus, overwhelmed him with such awe that he suddenly felt unworthy and ill-at-ease. In his astonishment, he knelt and blurted out, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” Jesus reassured him, as well as James and John and the other fishermen. “Do not be afraid,” he said to them. From now on “you will be catching men.” They were so startled, and intrigued, that when their boats reached the shore, they left off fishing to follow him!

When Luke wrote down this story, he was so impressed by that haul of fish that he failed to tell us anything about Jesus’ sermon of the morning. Even more than the catching of the fish, Luke appears to have been impressed with the Master’s command to the fishermen, “Launch out into the deep.”

Perhaps those words are meant to say more to us than the sermon of Jesus that day could have said. At any rate they come to the point of a lot of Jesus’ teaching. Jesus was forever inviting people into deep water, as if he realized that there is not much fishing of any kind in life’s shallows, except for a few minnows.

Jesus was continually calling his disciples out of the comfortable shallows into new venture beyond their spiritual depth. First he called those fishermen from the shore to deep water where the school of fish could be found. Then he call them from catching fish to catching men -- and they knew absolutely nothing about that. But they were willing to learn from him. And, during the next three years, he taught them in actual experience! They splashed and floundered around for a time, beyond their spiritual depth, until they found themselves and God.

Jesus did that sort of thing to others. He told the rich young ruler that his only hope lay in the deep waters, beyond the safety and comfort of his riches. He invited the man, Nicodemus, who had come to him secretly, by night, to wade out beyond conventional thinking and tradition into the depths of God’s mind and heart. That was his way -- always inviting people to dare deep waters! “Launch out into the deep.” At times, we have to get out there to get our heads beyond the confusion of the crowd.

On a hot and sweaty summer day in the summer of 1936, I went with my cousin out of New York City to Jones Beach on Long Island. Thousands of people sought pleasant relief from the heat by going there. The sands of the beach and the shallow water were crowded with humanity. But out beyond the shallower water, where it was deep enough for only those to venture who could swim well, were a few hardy folk who could enjoy the comforting coolness of the deep, riding on the waves away from the confusion of the crowded shallows.

A good deal of life is like that. Multitudes are on the shore, or in the rippling, shallow edges, thinking on the surface of things or merely going through the motions of living. Of course there are powerful forces keeping us there. Not only are we unskillful swimmers, fearful of the deeps. (1) But we get preoccupied with things. As a writer [Eugene O’Neil] said of one of his characters [Marco]: “He is not even a mortal soul; he is only an acquisitive instinct!” And the world caters to the acquisitive instinct on the assumption that basic values of life are to be found by way of material things!

Magazines have run a big “ad” assuring readers that one of the nicest things about traveling in some cars is that the body design of those autos assures the rider that he is ready for admiration upon arrival. One tire manufacturer has advertised “built-in peace of mind” with his company’s tires. Put four of those life-savers on your automobile and take the danger out of driving --- that is, of course, if everybody on the road is sober and cautious, and considerate -- and if your own judgment stays unerring and alert. But there is no such thing as built-in peace of mind to be had in launching out where it is deep enough to have to live by venture in faith.

An overdeveloped acquisitive instinct may, among us humans, produce ample bodies with meager souls.

(2) There is another “force,” or compulsion, that holds us in the shallows. It is the pressure to conform. A college senior seemed unsure that he had really grasped what he came to college for. He looked forward to the competition of the business world. But he did know that life is more than an “acquisitive instinct” or a conventional satisfaction. He observed soberly, “I want to know and believe something important.” He had seen some of the hazard of just coasting along, pushed this way and that by external events alone.

Perhaps you have seen young folk playing at caroms. And you know that those little wooden rings move only at the impact of one thumped from the shooter’s fingers. People sometimes allow themselves to be like those rings, waiting to be pushed. Or they are like billiard balls. The ball on a billiard table is inert and motionless except as it responds to external events. Then it reacts, with mechanical precision, to collision with other balls on the table. It has no capacity to initiate. It simply moves to whatever external stimulus is applied to it. Sad must be the lot of those people can who say: “I’ve never done anything I really wanted to do ...”

There’s not much to be caught in the shallows. The big fish are usually out where it is deeper. And we don’t find our nets full until we get out beyond mere acquisitiveness alone, or beyond mere reaction to external stimuli.

Probably there are some young folk who go to college like billiard balls, bounced around by whatever hits them until they have managed to pass 4 years of residence. They go because almost everybody else they know is going; because college looks like the way to a better paying job, or to a more selective social life. But education has little meaning for them unless they are willing, and even eager, to get out where it is deep. There are those college students who plunge right off into deep water. They grapple with ideas that are over their heads. They challenge conventional notions in the name of their search for truth. They stretch their minds in scientific and philosophical inquiry. They get deep into the best thought of the ages and pursue an understanding of their heritage. When they are finished with the school, they have something far more significant than their degree inscribed on a diploma.

There are those who perhaps came into church like carom rings or billiard balls. In our time this church, for one reason or another, is fairly popular. People have joined it in greater numbers than at most other times in history. But it is fair for us church members to ask ourselves, “what for?” Are we to go along as we have always done -- no better and no worse than before we joined? Do we just paddle around in the shallow water?

There are others who come into the church and promptly plunge into deep water. They start with the Master’s question: “What do ye more than others?” They search the scripture for inspiration and understanding. They do more than dabble with prayer. They reach up and they dig down. They put their minds to work on the assumption that a Christian was meant to “Love the Lord thy God --- with all thy mind...”, and thy neighbor as well. [Mark 12: 30,31]. They get earnest in their effort to put Christian ethics into their business and professional and social and home life. They clean out the dark corners of their lives. They reach out in Christian friendliness. And they live on a surprising spiritual income, for, lo, the catch in deep water is significant! “Launch out into the deep!” You may be conscious of being beyond your depth for a time, but learn the swimmer’s knack of trusting his body to the water’s buoyancy. If you are swimming, that is where to find freedom! If you are fishing, that is where to look for a catch!

When Oliver Wendell Holmes was a young man and, as a student, was becoming something of an intellectual, he read Plato’s Republic. He read with a searching and challenging mind. And he proceeded to write a paper attacking Plato on several fronts. He decided that he would send this brain child of his to the University Quarterly. But he felt it might be wise first to consult his friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson. He thought that Emerson knew everything, and had read everything.

Emerson read his whole paper, carefully, arranged the sheets neatly, held them out to Homes and remarked, “When you shoot at a king, you must kill him.” Wendell Holmes went back to his room to think that one over, and filed his fifteen page paper in the waste basket. A month later, Emerson called on Holmes. “Have you given Plato another chance?” he asked. “Hold Plato at arms length as you have been doing, Wendell,” he said in kindly tone. “That’s good. But say to yourself, ‘Plato, you have pleased the world for two thousand years. Now let’s see if you can please me.’” And because he stuck to it in the years to come, Plato did please Holmes. Wendell studied, and thought about, Plato until he understood.

Maybe we can get out of the shallows of our Christianity if we will study it, and think about it, and stick with its problems and its depths, until we understand better. It isn’t the Master’s fault, or God’s, if we putter and paddle along the shore. For it is Jesus’ precept to “launch out into the deep.” Of course we may be in a frustrated and disquieted mood, replying with Peter, “Lord, we have fished all night and taken nothing.” We find it like that more than once. sometimes we share the mood of the Psalmist, crying out: “O that I knew where I might find him.” We feel all alone, and possibly sorry for ourselves.

It may be that we haven’t really wanted to get out where it’s deep. We’ve pushed out obliquely, on a diagonal rather than straight out, and so never really get beyond the shallows. It isn’t really God Himself we want but our own ends -- our own health, our own wealth, our own enjoyment, a lift over our own temporary emergency. We never really get around to saying, and meaning, “Not my will, but Thine be done.” We have a fairly good idea what we think we want; but only a very cautious idea what God wants of us, and we are disinclined to be venturesome about it. We don’t want our pet plans to fail, even though there may be times when they ought to fail. Trying to iron out our conflicts, we hang on to our grievances for future reference. And so we stay in the shallows.

We may get into the predicament of the student who takes algebra and who is more interested in reporting the correct answers to the teacher than he is in mastering the principles by which he can make algebra do its work for him. These stern and relentless principles are out where it’s deep, and that is where the student must go for them.

There was a student in an English literature class who was assigned to memorize the passage on “mercy” from Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice.” You remember that it begins:

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven .......

And earthly power doth then show likest God’s,

When mercy seasons justice.

The student asked his father to hear him recite it in order the memorize it the faster. In that latest line, he got his words mixed and said, “When justice seasons mercy.” “Wait a minute, son,” his father remonstrated. “Let’s see what this means.” To which the boy replied: “Never mind what it means, I just have to learn it.” Well, we don’t get spiritual results without comprehension. We don’t dig out the answers without surrender to principles. Unless we get out there in the deep water, we can fish all night and catch nothing.

But when we can say with Peter, “Nevertheless, at thy command, I will let down the nets,” in deep water the catch fills them full. It happens, you see, when we become more intent on the will of God for us than for getting God to do what we want done.

So, “Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets” for a catch.

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, March 17, 1957.

Also in Wisconsin Rapids, March 21, 1965.