Third Sunday in Ordinary Time B
Relying heavily on, One Bread, One Body, Vol. 31, No. 1
One
fisherman noticed another
take
a small mirror from his tackle box
and
shine it on the surface of the water.
Being
curious, he rowed over and asked, “What’s with the mirror?”
“That’s
my secret way to catch fish,” came the reply.
“The
fish notice the bright spot on the water and swim to the top.
Then
I just net ’em and pull ’em into the boat.”
“Wow!”
said the first fisherman. “Does it
really work?”
“You
bet it does.”
“Would
you be interested in selling that mirror?
I’d give you $30 for it.”
I’d give you $30 for it.”
“You’ve
got a deal!”
After
the money changed hands, the first fisherman asked,
“By
the way, how many fish have you caught this week?”
“You’re
number six,” he said.
Come after me,
and I will make you fishers
of men.
When
we hear this Sunday’s gospel passage,
we quite naturally focus on the fishermen.
But
what about the fish?
What
happens when a fish is caught
and
then taken out of the water?
Whether
you’ve snared it with a net,
reeled
it into your boat,
or
pulled it in on a line through a hole in the ice,
when
you catch a fish and take it from the water,
it
dies—plain and simple.
Taken
out from the water, a fish dies.
And
so it must be for us to enter the Kingdom of God.
Trying
to live a truly Christian life
in
a world that isn’t wholly Christian
(even
in those areas which think that they are)
is
like a fish trying to live on dry land.
What
worked underwater just doesn’t work in fresh air.
Gills
and fins become useless;
what
you need are lungs, hands, and feet.
To
live in this new environment,
a
fish would need to be given an entirely new nature.
And
before you can be given a new nature,
the
old one must die.
There’s
good reason the first sacrament we receive—
our
entrance into new life in Christ
and
membership in his Church—
is
Baptism.
Baptism
is, of course, a wet sacrament.
We’re
pulled from the water.
And—depending
on how much water has been used—
we can
find ourselves gasping for air,
like
a fish taken out of the sea.
A
new life lies ahead of us:
one
different from, even opposed to,
that of the world around us.
that of the world around us.
Christ
offers us a new nature, a
redeemed nature:
one
adapted to breathing the fresh air of the Holy Spirit.
Are
you living this new life?
Have
you fully embraced this new nature?
Or do
you go back and forth between the water and dry land?
Do
you sometimes have a hard time breathing
because
you live in a sin-soaked world?
Do
you flounder about a bit trying to lead a holy life,
or
do you instead fit in perfectly
with
everything and everyone around you?
Maybe
you’re still floating around
in the baptismal font.
Maybe
you’re still swimming with a school of fish
which
has so far avoided being caught.
Maybe
you—your old self, your unconverted life—haven’t yet died.
could
becomes fishers of men,
they
had to be fish.
They
had to be caught by Christ
before
they could think of catching others.
They
had to abandon not only their boats and their nets,
but
everything about their life before Jesus.
They
had to thoroughly repent
and
wholeheartedly believe in the gospel.
They
had to die.
And
so do we.
The
people of Nineveh repented at the preaching of Jonah,
and
thus their city was saved.
Our
world, St. Paul tells us, in its present form—
drenched
as it is in godlessness—
is
passing away.
The
time is running out.
Today
is the day to start living like a fish out of water!
Let
your old self die—completely.
Learn
how to walk about on the dry ground of the Promised Land
and
never turn back.
Learn
how to breath the fresh air of the Kingdom
and
never be the same again.
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