Gradually, Then Suddenly

Scripture: Matthew 4:18-22

It is the beginning of Jesus's ministry. He finds four fishermen at their work. He asks them to follow him. They "immediately" drop everything and do so. "Immediately," the text pointedly says. "Immediately."

It doesn't seem very plausible, does it?

There is no evidence that the fishermen knew Jesus. He had nothing of material value to offer them. And these were not dreamy-eyed seminary students waiting around for some holy mendicant to happen along and offer up a little enlightenment. These were fishermen, practical guys who worked for a living and who had no time to waste. And, having been invited, they didn't think about it or talk about it or delay.

They just went with him, the story says, immediately.

You might think that the story doesn't make much sense and so is probably untrue. That's a dangerous line of reasoning in light of the senselessness that constantly surrounds us. As Mark Twain said: "It's no wonder truth is stranger than fiction; fiction has to make sense."

Well, if the story is true, then why would they do it?

That question is often answered by focusing entirely upon the person of Jesus. This scene, the argument goes, tells us something important about what it must have been like to stand in his presence. Those who encountered him must have been overtaken by his radiant holiness, his overwhelming grace, his divine light, his irresistible charisma, and so on and so on.

I do not doubt for an instant that encountering Jesus must have been an experience beyond anything that I can imagine. But the argument that the fishermen went along with him because no one could resist his sacred pull seems to me deeply problematic for at least two reasons.

First, many people did resist Jesus's influence. Indeed, in this very scene we also meet the often neglected Zebedee, father of two of these fishermen, who decided to stay home with the boats. Also, the disciples themselves went through periods where they pulled away from Jesus. And, of course, whole crowds of people wanted nothing to do with him but to crucify him.

Second, this argument deprives the fishermen of their human agency. It turns them into automatons who threw down their nets and followed Jesus because he pushed the right button. And, by making them less than human, this argument misses a profound truth about human behavior that is embedded in the story and that can help us understand how major changes in our life often occur.

So let's shift our focus a bit and imagine ourselves in the skin of one of these fishermen.    

These were not recreational fishermen--they fished for a living. That cannot have been an easy life. The hours were almost certainly long and tiring. The work was probably often tedious. Every day, they hauled the heavy nets out to the sea and then hauled the heavier, wet, burdened nets back into the boats and to shore. They were at the mercy of the elements. And, of course, the catch could be disappointing. As my father used to say to me when we'd have an unproductive day on our boat, "there's a reason they call it 'fishing' and not 'eating.'"

If you want to talk about something implausible, try this: it seems to me completely implausible that these men never questioned how they were spending their hours on planet earth. Surely, as human beings, they must from time to time have asked themselves the same questions we ask ourselves: Is this what my life is to be made of? Is this all there is for me? Is there nothing more, nothing greater, nothing more meaningful to come?

Of course, these are not just questions that a fisherman might ask himself. Over the years, I have heard the same questions from the lips of doctors, lawyers, judges, professors, teachers, successful businessmen ... indeed, just about everyone.

And then there comes a moment. Some turning point presents itself in life and we take it. And we do so because we have been spending most of our life getting ready for its arrival--whether we knew it or not.

There is a wonderful scene in Ernest Hemingway's novel The Sun Also Rises where one of the characters asks another how he went bankrupt. He replies: "gradually, then suddenly."

I have come to believe that these are some of the wisest words ever written. They perfectly describe how many of the worst things in life happen to us: financial ruin; alcoholism; drug abuse; the slow descent and ultimate crashing of a relationship. Gradually. Then suddenly.

But they also perfectly describe how many of the best things in life happen to us. Many of us fall in love gradually, then suddenly. We come to insight gradually, then suddenly. We find happiness gradually, then suddenly. We discover meaning in our lives gradually, then suddenly.

Paradoxically, these words also describe how we often transform some of our hardest experiences into some of our most powerful. We are working toward finding greater meaning in life; a terrible illness comes along; we suddenly move to a place of higher enlightenment. We are striving to have a more generous heart and to resist petty squabbles; we lose a loved one; our capacity to focus on what matters suddenly improves. I suspect that all of us have either had this experience or know someone who has.

There is, of course, no way to know for sure how to understand the story in this scripture. The text does not expressly tell us why the fishermen followed Jesus. But it is in the nature of the mysteries of sacred texts that they invite us not only into their words, but into the human heart, into our own hearts.

Why did the fishermen follow Jesus? No one knows for certain. But I suspect that it is because they had become ready for him before he ever appeared on the shore.

Perhaps you are at a time in your life when you are asking those hard questions I mentioned earlier. If so, then I think this passage has an important, if subtle, message that may help.

This passage tells you that those questions should not, must not, leave you in despair. Those questions are the process of preparing for the thing that comes along that changes everything.

Those questions, and the introspection they inspire, are the gradually.

Now, watch, my friends, for the suddenly.

Watch.

And watch.

And watch.

And, when it comes, throw down your nets.

"Immediately."

Amen.