When Jesus heard that John the Baptizer had been arrested by Herod Antipas, he went to Galilee. The text says that he ‘withdrew’ to Galilee, but ‘withdraw’ sounds too much like ‘retreat,’ like Jesus ran away to Galilee so he wouldn’t get his head chopped off too. That’s not the way it happened. Jesus isn’t going into hiding, he’s upping the ante. Galilee is Herod Antipas’ turf; it’s where Herod’s power is strongest. Jesus didn’t confront Herod, he didn’t rally a mob of people to fight for John’s release. He wasn’t that kind of leader. But he didn’t just sit there and take it either. He went into the heart of his enemy’s strength and he started a revolution.

Galilee was not a nice part of town. Matthew, who is quoting Isaiah, calls it the region of the shadow of death, and a place of great darkness. Nevertheless, it is to this place, with its unclean gentiles mired in their regional pagan practices, that Jesus goes.

As he walked along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, perhaps early in the morning before the sun has risen and while mists still cling to the surface of the lake, he happens upon two fishermen. Simon and Andrew: heaving their water-laden nets into the sea over and over again, just as they did they day before and, for all they know, just as they will do on the day to come. But Jesus has other plans. “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Those are the words, and for some reason Simon and Andrew do exactly what he asks of them. The same thing happens when Jesus comes upon James and John. Four men, who started the day as fishermen, begin their lives as fishers of men.

Let us take a break for a moment from the work of theology and talk a little bit about fishing, so that we might get the most mileage possible out of this metaphor. In case you missed the reference to nets, let me say again that these fishermen were not using fishing poles. They were not sitting leaned back against a tree trunk, straw hat tipped forward, wearing cut-off jeans and a flannel shirt. They were not napping and waiting for a fish to bite, they were working and going after the fish themselves. Fishing with a net, from the shore or from a boat, is labor-intensive work. It is not clever or subtle, it is not about finesse or choosing the right bait. There are no feather-light flies to be tied, only heavy-woven circular nets weighed down on the edges with weights that must be dragged up from the bottom, emptied, and tossed out into the water again. People who fish with nets do not throw back the fish. There is no such thing as sport fishing with a net. It should also be said that Jesus did not just make up this analogy. Fishing was a well-used metaphor in Jewish and pagan stories. It was often used to indicate an active human participation in some impending divine action.

So what do these historical notes have to tell us about our theological story? First of all, that while it may have been difficult work, fishing was work, it was a job, not a hobby, and the disciples, before they met Jesus, were gainfully employed. There is an even chance that they were not poor day laborers, but members of a middle class of professional fisher-folk who owned or leased boats. The disciples were not looking for a crazy rabbi to come rescue them from toil. Jesus did them no favor.

Second, being made a fisher of people may not be so poetically charming as it first sounded. The disciples are not going to become clever fly-fishermen who will intuitively choose just the right bait to dangle before the unbelievers until they can lure them into the gospel of Christ. They are being asked to work-hard-and to capture as many as possible with each arm-wrenching throw.

I think we must push this metaphor even farther. It will come as no surprise to you that I am going to say that we are all called to be fishers of people. It is the obvious way to make this story not just about 4 long-dead fishermen, but about ourselves here today. We are all called to be disciples, and in this story we are all called to be fishers of people.

In that case, the metaphor has one more insight to offer us. In our attempt to remove the romantic haze from the fisherman, let us remember one very important, yet often overlooked fact. Fishing results in dead fish. In the end, fishing is the process of killing fish. To be a successful fisherman is to be successful at making dead as many fish as possible.

What then does this do to our metaphor? If a fisherman’s job is to make dead fish, and we are to be fishers of people, is it then our job to make dead people? In a word, yes. Not literally, of course, but none of this was ever literal. We are dealing in metaphor. And metaphorically speaking, what we are called to do in discipleship, first to ourselves and then to others, is to change so fundamentally, that the people we once were might as well be dead.

We are charged with the gathering of God’s fish, and the first fish we are after is our self. The work will be difficult, resulting in metaphorically sore backs, rope-burned hands, and sun-burnt shoulders. And the fish we catch will not be sleek fish, or quick fish, or strong fish. They will be dead fish. Fortunately, we do not labor alone. By and through the Grace of God presented in Jesus, dead fish can become living Children of God. The fish we used to be will have died. The children we are to become will run, and jump, and laugh.

Good fishing.