3 Epiphany, Year B 2006 Jeremiah 3:21—4:2, Psalm 130, 1 Corinthians 7:17-23, Mark 1:14-20 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi January 22, 2006 In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen. Immediately, things are different. Immediately, everything they’ve come to know will change. Immediately, the course of their lives will be changed. “Immediately” seems to be one of today’s key words. … “Immediately” is something to which we can relate today. It’s something that delineates time and space, but also expectation and hopefulness. We’re an “immediate” people. Everything about our world tells us that we need to be accessible and able to access without delay. We need to amass more, wealth, knowledge, you name it. Our technologies continue to make this world of ours much smaller—not geographically, more often than not, leading us to those places where our cultures and our differences of opinions and beliefs clash rather than reaching consensus on how we might be able to see or perceive more clearly or reach out to others. We want answers now, insights, understanding, knowledge, all … now. Immediacy is increasingly becoming the norm; and I wonder what our need, desire, and longing for immediacy is really teaching us in the long run, or … better yet, just how it’s getting us to rethink concepts, reshaping our philosophies and theologies of patience and fortitude, persistence and tolerance. On Thursday, for instance, I was online at my office computer, and my email kept taking what seemed to be an eternity to process into my inbox—an eternity, that is, compared to the speed at which I’m used to receiving and sending my messages. The more I watched the progress bar, the more that saying about a watched pot became true. … A couple of hours later, again logging back on for another round of emails, things were back on track; but for an instant that day to some degree and as simple a thing as it was, my insistence on immediate information, my immediate expectations, my sense of needing to be in that kind of control was put into check. I wonder … what kind of reaction was Jesus really expecting in his calling of the fishermen—his disciples, his learners, those who would follow him? Just what was he expecting? … What were they expecting for that matter?! … My guess is that he and they didn’t really know fully just what they were getting themselves into, and Mark’s succinct gospel certainly leaves room for a good number of questions. … I think for us to fully understand just what’s going on in today’s gospel, we must consider what’s going on in the in-between. That is, we must consider what’s happening between the lines and between the times, but in order to do this, we have to work with what we’re given. … Here is Jesus appearing on the scene, ready to begin his public ministry, fresh, if you can really call it that, from forty days of fasting and temptation in the wilderness. And at the outset he proclaims repentance—something John called for during his public ministry. Jeremiah, as we heard earlier this morning, also called for a turning away from sin, for a return to the Lord. Now, Jesus calls for repentance, but there’s something important going on inside the message. … Jesus seeks repentance because the time is right for the kingdom. He makes a claim about the closeness of the kingdom, that it is at hand, and he proclaims repentance as a method, or way, towards believing in the gospel—of being able to live it and into it. Understanding Mark’s word choice here makes all the difference to what’s going on in the midst of this call for contrition and the calling of the first disciples. Mark uses the Greek word metanoia for the word “repent” which means “a changing of one’s mind” or “to turn,” or “to go in another direction.” Further, Jesus says “the time is fulfilled” (Mark 1:15), using not the word chronos, or chronological time, but rather the concept of the fulfillment of time in the sense of the Greek word kairos—the right time. … As one commentator puts it: “Jesus is saying that circumstances are converging [right there] to make this the urgent moment for the kingdom.” Heeding this sense of call in his own life, Jesus turns, taking his ministry in a new direction and at the same time calls Simon, Andrew, James and John. Immediately, they follow him, their own lives taking a turn, “looking at things differently” as they have “a change of mind” and heart. They discern the necessity, the urgency, the immediacy of the call, though as we will see as the Gospel continues, they don’t always get it, or fully comprehend it. They’re in control enough to leave all behind, but in the end, they’re not the ones in control at all. They’re entrusted into Jesus’ care as he leads the way, and in the scenario, there are no immediate answers whatsoever … about what’s to come, about what life will be like, about anything for that matter. In fact, it’s probably just the opposite. It’s a rising opportunity for the unknowing. … What a great opportunity it is for me to be able to consider this text today, the first anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. There’s a lot within it that I can relate to, as someone who has been “called”—as we in church circles like to call it. It affords me, and I hope all of us, an opportunity to consider again the processes that have led each of us to this day, here in this moment. For me, “call” is something that’s better described as “a knowing” or maybe even “an unfolding.” It’s something that continues to reveal itself to me and has over a long period of time. In it, there have been no easy answers, no fast-paced, immediate moments of clarity brought about from mountain tops nor rock bottoms … just a steady and steadier knowing, a clarity of sense of purpose, of sense of being, of sense of connection. And I wrestled with this, because there were no real mountain tops or rock bottoms. Each call is different. Issues of worth were part of my discernment, especially since I didn’t have these highs and lows … the immediacy of clarity or the complete muddying of waters that such opportunities might afford one. Yet at the same time, the urgency was there. There was clearly an urgency that grew stronger and stronger leading me along the path towards priesthood, and it’s one that I remember starting from a very young age, probably eight or nine years old. It was and continues to be a knowing, an unfolding, and I’m still getting clarity. Something that helped me along in this journey were the words of Bishop Barbara Harris of Massachusetts, words that I happened across in a Dallas newspaper almost eight years ago. In the article, Harris speaks to a sense of personal unworthiness in pursuit of the next dimension of her life of ministry—one that would lead her to pursue ordination to the priesthood. The best advice on the matter was given her by a friend: “God does not call those who are worthy; he makes worthy those who are called.” Friends: “God does not call those who are worthy; he makes worthy those who are called.” … It’s not just me whose called. It’s all of us. We’re all called. For Simon, Andrew, James and John, fishing was a way of life. It was an expectation, probably even more so for the latter two. It was not just a profession, but a livelihood. It provided sustenance. It put bread on the table. It was, for some, a worthwhile endeavor … but was, is, at the same time dangerous, arduous, difficult, a no-promises-made, day-to-day kind of life. And it was something that “worked” for those who were truly called, or thought they were, to a life as fishermen. But there was something missing for these four. There had to have been, or else all logic should have kept them from following Jesus. The kingdom close at hand is about possibility. It’s about potentiality and what could be, if those who believe buy into it. What are the nets that are ensnaring your capabilities, your time, your talents, your loves, your full sense of being and worth, rather than freeing you, opening you up to harvesting bounty upon bounty of the things that really matter? What is it, my friends that keep any of us from fully buying into it, the still coming kingdom of God? We’re all called. All shapes, sizes, colors, dispositions, men women, classes, statuses, you name it. We are all called, called to be the best we can be in the service of God wherever our vocations and callings may lead us, a God whose only promise is “Come and see.” “Follow me.” I think Frederick Buechner stated it quite nicely when he said something like: Call/Vocation is that place where your heart’s deepest desire and longings, meet the world’s greatest needs. Our various calls in this Christian life come in as many ways as our shapes and sizes, our differences of being—not just as ordained people, but as people of faith. And we’re charged to live out that call in the midst of our daily lives—its joys and struggles. Each and every call is as valid and unique in its own unfolding as any other, and it can happen when we’re least looking for it, or when we’re least expecting it. In our responses, we’re called to wild abandonment. We’re called to kairos, an understanding of the right time, the right moment. We are to enter into those many moments of the coming kingdom of God, those moments of clarity, lest we miss them. We’re called to change course, to turn, to be transformed that we might transform even when there are no easy and immediate answers, but especially when there are. Jesus calls us and bids us, “Come and see.” … May we ever “Come and see.” May we ever “Follow” and continually discern just where it is that our deepest longings and the world’s greatest needs interconnect. Amen   Information in this paragraph and the three preceding it, as well as portions in direct quotes gleaned from Sunday’s Readings: Turn in a New Direction from The Living Church, v. 232, no. 4, January 22, 2006. Page 4. Quote from: A Bishop’s Life in The Dallas Morning News, Wednesday, November 25, 1998. Article by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez (Boston Globe). Found on page 9C. See citation in fn. 1 above. Paraphrasing here from the same article.