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Among the various holidays and feast days I completely blitzed past in the last month was the Feast of St. Andrew on November 30th.
Depending on your preference for John or one of the others, Andrew was either picked up initially as a follower of John the Baptist or abruptly snatched away from his fishin enterprises. The former account would make him the first of the twelve disciples, an original of sorts, but I prefer the second account.
4:18. As he was walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew, casting a net into the sea; they were fishermen. 19. He said to them, “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.” 20. At once they left their nets and followed him.
I’m intrigued by this scene particularly because of the almost innumerable questions it raises. Some questions are almost incidental, and apply mainly to the way I visualize the scene as I read. For example: how close is the boat to the land. Does Jesus have to shout, or are they close, or is it a creepy divine-type things where he speaks softly and they hear him just fine. Do they reply as they’re bringing the boat about? And how much of this “fishing for men” is really understood. I’ve always been a little entertained by the possibility (real to me) that Peter and Andrew thought they were joining in on an economic venture, only to learn to their (initial) disappointment that they were prostheletizing.
Other questions cut closer to the heart of whatis going on here, and most of them are left completely unanswered. Are Peter and Andrew leaving family behind? As two able-bodied male fisherman, it would’ve been economically devastating to most families to lose two members at once. Do the two have misgivings? If so, how does Jesus address these? How quickly does this departure happen… less than an hour, we gather from the reading, but “right away” could mean one minute, or five, or fifteen. Were their goodbyes? Were they tearful? Did either of these young men ever see them families or their livelihood again?
Scenes like this have always marked a point of tension for me… partly because the gospel message argues so strenuously of our responsibilities to others, yet the scene depicted her (and the next with the sons of Zebedee) sound as if they must have caused someone great pain.
In the end, we can only speculate, because the text does not even consider these questions, much less answer. The one thing that is directly communicated here is the necessity of leaving. There is no indication of doubt or regret, nor is there any question of returning. The gospel could then be pointing to the need for a decisive response when the truth is explicitly known, an observation which is consistant with the gospel’s logic.
But I prefer not to think of this loss as being exclusively joyful, as an unambiguous triumph. Remember, these same two young men will abandon their teacher in his hour of most desperate need. It seems that their must have been some sense of sorrow and loss at this early parting from a well-known and well-worn life. Without loss, sacrifice is meaningful. With loss, even in the unspoken lines of families and relationships in an almost tossed-aside passage, the tension in self-sacrifice, the willing self-erosion of our loves and dreams takes on meaning. God sacrificed himself in part so that we might know when to do so ourselves. Saint Andrew would be crucified himself one day.
END OF POST.