I heard this week that many of us at St. Ambrose are also sick and tired of not catching any fish, sick and tired of navigating the deep, deep waters of Covid and the fire, sick and tired of feeling empty. To leave the metaphors aside for a moment for the sake of clarity: I hear you when you say that you’re exasperated with all of all the safety rules and regulations that continue at church; I hear you when you say that you feel disconnected from one another, that you miss table fellowship and comforting hugs in this place. I hear you when you worry about our finances, about the rental money lost because of the pandemic. I hear you when you worry that families won’t come back here, that we are waiting too long to get “back to normal.” I hear you, and I understand.
This long Pandemic is deep water. Like a strong wave, it feels overwhelming for our little St. Ambrose boat. The pressure is soul-crushing for our lay leaders, for our bishop, and for me: One false move with the boat, and we can all end up spluttering around in the depths. If we are too fearful to “be and do church,” we miss out on lifegiving joy together. On the other hand, if we are too careless, we might spread the virus to a loved one among us who is immunocompromised. You know, clergy aren’t superhuman, either, by the way. Don and I between us have three serious pre-existing conditions that could make Covid, even the Omicron variant, quite a health concern. I also have a daughter nearby who is pregnant and a granddaughter who is too young to be vaccinated. They count on me not bringing Covid into their household right now. At the very least, a Covid diagnosis for me could put me out of the office for a number of weeks. It has happened to clergy friends of mine. The staff would have to quarantine, too. We’d be back on Zoom only. Talk about being hampered in gathering and in doing ministry.
Going forward through deep waves requires care. I was on a small boat one time in heavy seas. The captain had to take a zig-zagging path, pushing one way and then the other, back and forth, speeding up and slowing down. It was an annoying way to ride. It made me sea-sick. But if he had crashed straight ahead through the towering waves, we would have been in trouble. The same goes for our navigation of Covid at St. Ambrose. We have to zig-zag between having a life together and protecting and loving our oldest, youngest, and sickest neighbors. Back and forth, through the waves.
Deep water is also challenging because we can’t see down to the bottom. We don’t know where the fish are. On his own, Simon Peter was out there all night without catching anything. It wasn’t until Jesus told him where to let down his nets that he caught the huge abundance of fish. As we continue to navigate the deep waters of Covid and now the fire recovery, it’s going to be very important for all of us to rely on Jesus more than on our own routines, fears, or set ways of doing things. In deep water, we have no other choice but to listen, follow Jesus, and discern together. A great example is the way that we let the disaster recovery workers, both from Boulder County and from Southern Baptist Disaster Relief, use our buildings. Now I know that some of you have been wondering: Why on earth did Rev. Anne let them use our buildings now, when we have been discouraged from renting St. Ambrose space for parties and other money-making ventures?! Why did Rev. Anne let the relief workers eat together in Barcelona House without masks on, when she tells us that we shouldn’t eat together in the same space like we used to?!
Those are good questions, questions that I am always glad to answer. Here’s why we said yes to having people in our building: Jesus asks us to be all about loving our neighbor, to be “fishing for people,” to be welcoming the lost, binding the broken-hearted, sharing God’s healing grace with the world beyond ourselves. You are right: It is against all of our Covid best practices to let so many strangers into our building, especially to take off masks and eat together. It’s risky. But we are suddenly thrust into a disaster even bigger than Omicron. Suddenly, it was time to stop mending our nets, to follow Jesus, to step out in faith, and to climb back into the boat and head to sea. How to protect our neighbor zigzagged from sacrificing coffee hour and budget dollars, to throwing open our doors! Jesus is now calling us into the deep waters of devastation caused right here by the Marshall fire. I’m so proud of how we let down our nets at the right time. Let’s keep doing it! Instead of eating pancakes together on Shrove Tuesday, can we cook together and pack up some Mardi Gras food for our neighbors to take home? Can we become a community center for fire victims? If we keep listening to Jesus, when we pull those nets up again, we’re going to have resources and meaning and community in wild and crazy abundance. We’re even going to have to join with others in order to pull it all in.
I truly hope that the Covid part of this sermon will be outdated very soon. From what I’ve read, we can be hopeful about eating together again soon as a parish, about taking off these darn masks when we want to. The day is coming quickly when young children can be vaccinated. It won’t be long before we will live with endemic, rather than “pandemic” Covid, and life will look more normal. But, even then, like Simon Peter, if we follow Jesus, we will never be the same again. Note that Simon and his friends were given the most miraculous, belly-filling, justice-rendering catch of their lives out in the deep waters. They received what they wanted and needed, and more! But they didn’t go sell those fish, did they? They didn’t do the regular fisherman thing with their catch; they didn’t follow their comfortable routine; they didn’t take a great meal home to their families. They left the tools of their trade on the beach; they left the valuable catch of fish for others to take. They left their old lives to follow Jesus. If we truly believe today’s Gospel, we can be sure that our time spent on the deep waters with Jesus will bring us abundance of life—all that we need. And that it will call us away from the familiar into places where we have never been before.
Brilliant!
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