Changing Our Job Interview

(Fishing on the Right Side of the Boat)

Introduction

Fishers of fish & men

The theme of the first weeks of Ordinary time is discipleship—the following of him whom at Christmas we found wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. In today’s gospel from St. Mark, Jesus is passing by the Sea of Galilee and sees Peter and his brother Andrew fishing for fish. He bids them saying, “Come follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Scripture says, “They abandoned their nets and followed him.” Then Jesus went a little farther on and saw two other brothers, James and John, sons of Zebedee. They, too, were fishers of fish. He calls them also and promises to make them fishers of men. They, too, abandon their nets and follow Jesus (Mk 1:14-20).

Poor fishing in Jesus’ day

The parallel passage from the gospel of St. Luke describes the event a little differently. One day Jesus was on the shores of Lake Galilee and saw Peter, a fisher of fish. Jesus got into Peter’s boat and said to him, “You and your partners launch off into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” Peter protested a bit saying, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night long and haven’t caught a thing.” Nevertheless, he obeys. He launches off into the deep and drops his nets for a catch. Scripture says, “They caught such a large number of fish that their nets were about to break.” That miraculous catch has Peter falling to his knees and exclaiming, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Despite the avowal of sinfulness, and perhaps precisely because of it, Jesus says to Peter, “You’re just the man I want. From now on I will make you a fisher of men” (Lk 5: 1-11). A fisher of men--that’s the New Testament’s expression for those whose mission is to catch followers for Jesus.

On another occasion, Peter and his partners were fishing all night long on the Sea of Galilee and didn’t catch a thing. It was soon after the death and the resurrection of the Lord. As the sun was rising, the risen Lord appeared to them from the shore, but the apostles didn’t recognize him. Jesus called out to them asking, “Hey, young men, have you caught any fish to eat?” They yelled back, “Not a thing.” They were fishing on the left side of the boat. Jesus ordered them saying, “Cast your nets on the right side of the boat, and then you will catch something.” Again Peter obeyed Jesus. Scripture says, “They made a miraculous catch of 153 large fish” (Jn 21: 1-19)

We chuckle a bit at this “153 large fish.” We wonder who in the world took the time to count them out so exactly and remember the number and write it down for us? St. Jerome of the fourth century makes the interesting observation that the ancient zoologists calculated the number of different kinds of fish in the sea to be 153. For him the number is symbolic for a mighty huge catch. Peter recognizing the risen Lord in the miraculous catch jumps into the water and swims ashore to Jesus. There all eat a good breakfast of loaves and freshly caught fish around a warming charcoal fire at early dawn (John 21: 1-14).

Poor fishing today

These days, too, the fishing isn’t very good. We, the church, have a shortage crisis on our hands. It’s not a shortage of fish. The faithful are still coming in great numbers despite our painful scandal. It’s a shortage of priests—a shortage of fishers of men. I look at the bulletin for St. Michael the Archangel Church, Lake Jackson, Texas. It reads: Monsignor Leo Wleczyk, pastor. Sunday Liturgy: 5:30 Saturday evening. 8, 9:30 and 11 Sunday morning. The bulletin doesn’t list any assistant priest for St. Michael’s. And here I am, an eighty year old snow bird flying in from Wisconsin to assist Fr. Leo who isn’t a spring chicken himself. In my book, it’s almost unconscionable that one man should have to undergo four Sunday liturgies. You’re not supposed to undergo liturgies; you’re supposed to celebrate them.

We have the same problem up north. In Milwaukee, three parishes (St. Rita, St. Hedwig, and Holy Rosary) had to join together to form a coalition with a funny name like Church of the Three Holy Women. A fine young priest with a good Polish name of Tim Kitzke, whom everyone likes, has to pony-back from one parish to another for Sunday masses, like a circuit judge of early frontier days. The nicer the poor guy is and the more the people love him, the sooner he’s going to burn out.

Jesus’ job interview

After that wonderful catch of 153 fish and the early morning breakfast around a warming charcoal fire at early dawn, there follows a scene that’s particularly meaningful for Catholics. Before the risen Lord commissions Peter to be the supreme fisher of men in the church (i.e., before he commissions him to be the first pope) he makes him undergo a job interview.

It’s, indeed, a strange job interview: it asks only one question but asks it three times. “Peter, do you love me?” Jesus asks a first time. “Yes, Lord, I love you,” Peter relies. “Peter, do you love me?” he asks a second time. Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, I love you.” When Jesus asks the question a third time, Peter is cut to the quick, for it reminds him of Jesus’ trial on Good Friday when bystanders asked him three times, “Do you know this man?” and three times he denied ever knowing Jesus. At the third denial, scripture says, “A rooster crowed, and Peter recalled what Jesus had foretold, `Before the rooster crows, three times you will deny that you know me.’ Then Peter went out and wept bitterly” (Jn 21:15-17; Mt 26:74).

That job interview is so important to us Catholics that it is inscribed with gold mosaic letters six feet tall, both in Latin and Greek, in the lofty heights of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome: “Petre, amas me?” “Peter, do you love me?”

When Jesus finally assures himself that Peter is, indeed, a fit candidate to be the supreme fisher of men in the church (i.e., to be the first pope) and when he finally assures himself that Peter is, indeed, a warm, loving, caring human being, he confers the awesome job upon him. The conferral, like the job interview itself, is also inscribed with gold mosaic letters six feet tall, both in Latin and Greek, in the lofty heights of St. Peter’s: “Petre, pasce oves meas. Pasce agnos meos.” “Peter, feed my lambs. Feed my sheep” (Jn 21:15-19).

Changing our job interview

We, the church, have a crisis on our hands: a shortage of fishers of men. But let us, the church, recall an oriental wisdom that says a crisis is not only a moment of pain but also a moment of promise and opportunity. God be praised for the crisis before us! Yes, God be praised for the priest shortage! It’s forcing us to launch off into the deep and ask questions which we would never think of asking if we were not in crisis. Questions like, should not we, the church, be launching off into the deep and changing our job interview for ministry? Should we not be bringing it into conformity with Jesus’ job interview?

Jesus didn’t ask Peter three times, “Are you a celibate? Are you a celibate? Are you a celibate?” Perhaps neither should we. Peter, we recall, was a married man. He had a mother-in-law, and one day Jesus cured her of a fever (Mt 8: 14-15). Let us remember that the first pope was a married man. Nor did Jesus ask Peter three times, “Are you a male? Are you a male? Are you a male?” Perhaps neither should we. Indeed, Peter was a male, a rough and tough fisherman. But that has nothing to do with ministry.

Jesus didn’t even ask Peter three times, “Are you a saint? Are you a saint? Are you a saint?” Peter, indeed, wasn’t a saint. He was a sinner who denied his Lord three times! Even before that, he was a sinner. When at Jesus’ command he and his partners lowered their nets for a miraculous catch of 153 fish, Peter fell to his knees and protested, “Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Who knows what sins of his Peter had in mind? That avowal of sinfulness even pleases Jesus, and he says to Peter, “You’re just the man I want. From now on I will make you a fisher of men” (Lk 5:10).

We, the church, must launch off into the deep and bring our current job interview for ministry into conformity with Jesus’. Our job interview must not center on celibacy or maleness or even sinlessness. It must center first and foremost around love. We must ask the question of love not once, not twice but three times just to make sure that we have before us a fit candidate for ministry, namely, a warm loving caring human being. Only when Jesus was finally assured that that’s the kind of candidate he had in Peter—only then did he make him pastor over the universal church.

Conclusion

Everyone winning

Here is a secret that most of us already know: of such candidates there is no shortage. If there is a shortage, it’s man-made, like the energy shortage at our gas pumps these days. There is no shortage of such candidates out there. There is, in fact, a whole school of such candidates swimming in our pond—candidates who would make good fishers of men—candidates waiting to be scooped up in our nets and be harvested for ministry.

The problem is that that school of fish is swimming on the right side of our boat, and we’re fishing on the wrong side. In our crisis, Jesus is ordering us to cast our nets on the right side. If we obey, like Peter and his partners, we’ll make a grand haul of 153 fishers of men. And that’s more than enough to serve all the needs of the people of God.

If we, the church, obey Jesus’ fishing instructions, we all win. Healthy young men, who want to minister but who also want to marry, will win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job (and also just as bad a job) as men do, will also win. And those three holy women who had to join a coalition with a funny name will also win: they’ll each get back their own individual churches with their own names, and they’ll each have their own priests again. That young priest on pony-back will also win. He’ll have help and won’t have to burn himself out before his time. Monsignor Leo and I will win; we both will be able to retire before we’re ninety.