In this familiar text, Jesus calls ordinary people to accompany him in the work of ministry.
From among his new neighbors in Capernaum, Jesus approaches fishermen, hard at work on the Sea of Galilee, and invites them to follow. He calls them to engage in a new, but not wholly unfamiliar, kind of work: not fishing for fish, but fishing for people.
Why fishermen? They certainly don’t have the credentials of a healer or a teacher or a public speaker or a religious professional. But as one commentary I read this week noted, perhaps Jesus calls fishermen because he’s looking for people who can mend.
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| Photo by Torkil Torgard on Unsplash |
When Jesus sees James and John, we hear that they are in the boat with their father, mending their nets. They would be checking for frayed spots, tightening loose knots, and fixing holes - crucial work for the net to fulfill its purpose effectively.
The work of mending - the patience, and care, and attention it requires - it would have served them well in the work they did with Jesus, too. As we heard in the Gospel reading, Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the dominion of heaven and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. In other words, mending.
This language of “people who can mend” caught my ear this week, as did the words of the prophet Isaiah, about people who sit in darkness, and in the region and shadow of death.
We find ourselves in difficult times, times in need of menders. We sit in the darkness and shadows of upheaval, uncertainty, fear, and grief. Our nerves are frayed, the bonds that connect us to one another are coming loose, and we can see so many places and relationships with gaping holes that didn’t used to be there. We long for a new light, a new way forward to dawn.
What good news it is, then, that Jesus knows the work of mending. With forgiveness and grace, with unfailing love and his very presence, Jesus mends our worn and broken places. Jesus mends us, drawing us back together and holding us tight.
Like he called those first disciples, Jesus is still calling people who can mend. Mending in these days might look like listening, showing vulnerability, and offering support and encouragement to one another. It might look like connecting with a neighbor or loved one, asking for help, or lifting up prayers. These actions and others can go a long way toward the work of mending the frayed and worn spots in our life together. I wonder: where this week have you seen this kind of mending happening? And how might you join in?
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