The senior sermon of Jeff Garner, Class of 2005 from the Diocese of Alabama, given in Christ Chapel on November 30, 2004

Matthew 4:18-22

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, O Christ, our strength and our redeemer. Amen

There I was…relegated to my usual "2d base" position, half-way through our Little League schedule…all decked out with no ESPN play of the week in sight. Although I was doing what all young boys loved to do, I just knew I was predestined for something much greater. After all, I had always seen myself as the hero…as the center of attention…as the "pitcher."

But, there I stood -- out of sight…out of mind…and out of the way of any game-saving action. All season long I tried to convince the coach-who happened to be my Dad--that I deserved the chance to pitch. I just knew I was destined to "hurl the bean"…to pitch game winning no-hitters…to be the most valuable player as I led my team to the championship! For weeks, I attached myself to dad's hip pocket, constantly badgering him; "…come on Papa Earl, I know I can do it…give me a chance… if I don't get to pitch, I'll die!" I had even convinced my fan club, my Mom, to assert "frequent and unconventional" domestic pressure on Dad to aid in my cause. Actually, I think she was as fed up with my whining as Dad was!

Then, mid-inning…after one of my more aminated pre-game outbursts that even Pete Rose would've been proud of…Dad crossed over the first base line, and summoned me to the pitcher's mound. Papa Earl had finally giving in…I was going to pitch! Once over the shock, I tugged at my britches…as I had seen all my baseball heroes do…and "strutted" to the mound--puffed up like a peacock and feeling darn importance …even if we were losing very badly!

So, after a few words of encouragement to the players around me, Dad placed the ball in my glove and spoke the words I'll never forget…"the first run that scores, you're out of the game and on the bench." Immediately, I began to question my new found fame, as the ball in my glove suddenly felt like a shot put! My knees began knocking and I wanted very badly to turn around and walk back to the obscurity of 2d base. But, I was exactly where I thought I should be, and now it was time for me to "put-up" or "shut-up."

Well, after four pitches…four bruised batters…and after the first run crossed home plate…Dad remained true to his word, slowly walking the mound wearing that "I told you so" look on his face and…using the jargon of the sport…"yanked" me from the game. After the long, lonely walk off the field, I withdrew to the darkest end of the dugout to pout …teary-eyed and despondent! I had put so much effort in getting what I wanted that I totally missed what Dad was trying to tell me all along -- that my talent wasn't in front of the plate as the pitcher…but lay behind the plate as "the catcher." Now, Dad was calling me out of my short-lived and disheartening experience into what he knew would be my truer vocation--as catcher…where I played for the remainder of my baseball career.

And, I wonder if we aren't encountering something very similar in Matthew's story today…as Jesus calls Peter, Andrew and the brothers Zebedee to drop their nets and adopt his new agenda as fishers of people. Until now, fishing…and selling fish in and around Capernaum…had been the only vocation these four had ever known or aspired to. But, now…all that was changing…

We sometimes tend to think of these disciples as being poor and having little in life -- after all, weren't they just as oppressed by the Romans as the next guy? But, I think it's wise for us to keep in mind that as Peter, Andrew and James and John left their boats to answer Jesus' call, they were leaving something valuable behind. They were laying down their nets, their entire life…and that was no small matter given their circumstances. Their vocation as fishermen, while modest by our standards today, was a pretty good one for those trying to scrape- out a living in first century Palestine.

In today's language, they had assets -- they possessed boats and businesses; they had an established clientele willing to pay for the fruits of their labor; and, we're even told later that at least one of them owned a home. But now, this Jesus-fellow was asking them to drop their means of livelihood, the only thing they'd ever known, and accept this strange agenda of fishing for people.

Think about it. Just what did these fishermen know about this Jesus? Matthew gives us no indication of any previous encounter between Jesus and any of them. Maybe they had heard of his recent wilderness experience. Or, maybe Jesus' reputation preceded him, as told to them by those who may have heard John the Baptist's account of his baptism. It's even quite possible that the fishermen, themselves, were so demoralized and spiritually disheartened in their life that they saw Jesus as offering them an escape…a new path…that would finally give them some direction in their lives. There's little doubt that they heard something in Jesus' call-an opportunity to follow a new power…to begin a new vocation that invited them to participate in God's own saving work. And, as Matthew tells us, these first disciples responded without hesitation or reservation…dropping all they had ever known and walking away -- without question -- into an unknown future.

The abruptness of the disciple's departure -- that instantaneous break from the familiar -- highlights the burdens of discipleship we have all had to consider…or we wouldn't be sitting here today. Peter, Andrew and the Zebedee brothers decided to follow a new authority in their lives, a God-sent leader who they grew to love and trust beyond all else. And now, we are called into similar circumstances. But, our call includes new voices--the voices of the congregations that call us out of here to become their leaders and their spiritual role models.

Very soon, a third of us will begin our new vocation as the guides, protectors, and companions of those calling us. Our new vocation will be both humbling and trying -- often times requiring us to face the uglier side of life…and on occasion demanding that we place our egos and our beliefs at risk. And, along the way, we may even find ourselves having to be nourished by the very same people that we are called to care for. We have heard how we will need to become the teacher of teachers and the leader of leaders…and we have heard of dangers that lurk in the shadows of the Gatekeepers. But, as Charlie Cook would tell us, we must not allow our fears or anxieties to gain the upper hand. Instead, we should remain diligent and intentional about aligning our vision and core values with the Gospel we live and we preach.

Patience and persistence are virtues inherent to good fishing…and ones that we would do well to pay attention to in ministry. Patience may be best illustrated by a tribal story remembered from my youth; One day a Creek warrior's wife ask her aging husband, "How long will it take for you to teach my young son to master the bow so he may hunt for our family when you are gone?" The aged and wise warrior replied, "Wife…that depends. It takes a few weeks to grow a stand of corn, but many years to grow a strong oak tree. Which do you want your child to be when the strong winds of winter arrive?"

When we leave this place to answer our respective parish and congregational calls, we will take with us many new ideas and exciting programs that we'll want to transplant into our new parish environments. But, we -- as well -- should strive to be patient…as it is often times a slow process to plow the years of theological perspective and church tradition in order to create fertile fields that will accept the plantings of change we offer. For us, catching people will always be about planting those seeds of transformation…with the intent of turning every heart we may touch back towards God.

Like fishermen, catchers also require patience as they aspire to hone their leadership skills. First, a catcher must be fully aware of what's happening around them at all times. They must be prepared to deal with the unexpected, as well as the ordinary. At times, catchers must be willing to direct, since they are responsible for ensuring all team members are prepared and in place -- ready to react both existing and newly developing situations.

The catcher is also an advisor, constantly communicating with the coaching staff to determine if and when a player has lost their effectiveness, speaking up when it's time to make that critical change. But what a catcher does best is receive -- whether a pitch, a throw from a fielder, or as the catcher blocks home plate to prevent someone from stealing it out from under them. And, our role as parish leaders will not be that much different from those catching experiences.

As congregational leaders, people will look for us to be directive when necessary; especially in times of turmoil, chaos and conflict. And, just like the catcher, we will need to block all attempts to disrupt or break apart our parish family, as internal and external threats to cohesion will always be there confront us. Finally, as we have learned from our field placements, priests and pastors are constantly communicating…whether in counseling, from the pulpit, or in our written correspondence.

This new vocation we will soon undertake is highly visible and often times risky. But, we're never alone. We have Christ's divine assurance that the Holy Spirit will always be there…especially as we deal with difficult situations and confront those occasional dangers….

Each of us was called to this place. And, eventually, all of us will be called away…once again…to dive headlong into a sea of uncertainty. From now on, others will look to us to bring them the God's Good News. It's no longer about our thoughts or aspirations. It's about our faithfully following Christ… catching people along the way!

In the Name of God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit…AMEN!