The Fisherman at Rest
I’d like to open today with a story told by Anthony de
Mello, who was an Indian Jesuit priest and psychotherapist. (I’ve actually told
this story once before, but…it’s worth recycling!) It goes like this:
The rich industrialist from the North was horrified to find the Southern fisherman lying lazily beside his boat, smoking a pipe.
“Why aren’t you out fishing?” said the industrialist.
“Because I have caught enough fish for the day,” said the fisherman.
“Why don’t you catch some more?” asked the industrialist.
“What would I do with [them]?” responded the fisherman.
“You could earn more money,” was the reply. “With that you could have a motor fixed to your boat and go into deeper waters and catch more fish.
“Then you would make enough to buy nylon nets. These would bring you more fish and more money. Soon you would have enough money to own two boats…maybe even a fleet of boats. Then you would be a rich man like me.”
“What would I do then?” the fisherman asked.
“Then you could really enjoy life,” the industrialist said.
“What do you think I am doing right now?”[1]
The Wisdom of Our
World
Now, I know this story intends to demonstrate the absurdity of our greed, the way we chase more and more and miss out on the gifts right in front of us. But I’ll be honest. There is a small part of me that feels some sympathy toward the industrialist. I suppose this feeling comes from the part of me that learned the value of a strong work ethic. Just think of all the sayings in our culture that promote a competitive work ethic. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world.” “It’s ‘survival of the fittest.’” “First come, first served.” “The early bird gets the worm.” “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” And last of all: “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Yet at the start of our scripture for today, Jesus takes on a different tone toward our conventional wisdom. His words suggest that the fisherman, not the industrialist, was onto something….
A Puzzling Prayer
25 At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
On the face of it, this is a puzzling prayer. Why would Jesus give thanks that his teaching—the good news—has been hidden from some people? Why would Jesus give thanks that only some people will understand the good news, not all?
I think the key is to notice to whom Jesus’ teaching has been revealed. Namely, “to infants” (Matt 11:25). Surely, Jesus is not only speaking literally here about a particular group of people. Rather he is naming the condition by which anyone may receive his teaching. “Infants” are needy creatures. They are not self-sufficient but rather dependent on the help of others. They are desperate and trusting. In the same way, to receive Jesus’ good news, a person must become like an infant and relinquish the illusion of self-sufficiency, of being in control. They must acknowledge their need. They must trust in a power that can do what they cannot do for themselves.
Jesus does not come to deliver his good news only to “infants.” He comes pleading that we all become like “infants,” like little children, that we might all receive the good news.
And if becoming like an infant is the condition that predisposes us to God’s love, then notice the opposite condition that prevents our reception of God’s love. Jesus says “the wise and the intelligent” cannot comprehend the good news. Again, Jesus is not singling out a group of people but rather naming a condition. When anyone lives under the illusion of self-sufficiency, when anyone considers themselves wise and intelligent and able to manage fine enough on their own—thank you very much—in that condition, it is impossible to receive the full extent of God’s love.
God’s Wisdom Calls to
the World-Weary “Wise”
28 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Biblical commentators have keenly observed that Jesus’ invitation here bears a remarkable resemblance to an invitation made by the character of Wisdom in Proverbs. If you’ll remember, last week we met Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 8. There, God’s Wisdom is personified as a woman who is with God before the creation of the world. She is God’s “master worker” in the project of creation, and she delights in all of life as it emerges. Proverbs regularly portrays her as God’s ambassador, inviting us into the good life. Listen to the opening verses of Proverbs 8: “Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance of the portals she cries out: ‘To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live. O simple ones’”—“simple ones” is not unlike Jesus’ “infants”—“’learn prudence.’ … Happy is the one who listens to me, watching daily at my gates, waiting beside my doors. For whoever finds me finds life’” (Prov 8:1-5, 34-35).
In a similar way, Jesus calls to all who walk the road of life and invites them to find joy and contentment in his way. But what I find most remarkable about Jesus’ invitation is his implication that what passes for wisdom in our world is actually enslavement and a heavy burden. When he calls to the “weary” and those “carrying heavy burdens,” I think he is crying out especially to “the wise and the intelligent” whom he named a few verses earlier and who have thus far been closed to the good news. I think he is drawing a connection between what passes for wisdom in our world—“it’s a dog-eat-dog world,” “the early bird gets the worm,” etc.—and this feeling of exhaustion, of always being a little behind, of never having or being enough.
I think back to the story of the fisherman and the industrialist. When the industrialist says “[With some improvements] you could really enjoy life,” and the fisherman responds, “What do you think I am doing right now?”—the fisherman is declaring his contentment. His soul is at rest. Implied in his expression, however, is that his counterpart is not at rest. To always be seeking more, calculating, planning, competing, never resting, never satisfied is to be exhausted. To be enslaved. We all know this to some degree. Though none of us are wealthy business tycoons, we all live in a world that tells us we should be. We live surrounded by screens that tell us that we don’t have enough, that we haven’t achieved enough, that the world is on the brink and might collapse if we don’t win enough control…. It is exhausting. And it makes slaves out of us, extracting effort and attention not toward the care and nurture of ourselves and others but toward the never-ending struggle for control and for more, more, more.
The Gentle and Humble
Heart of God
Last week, as we read the opening verses of the gospel of John, we came across the idea that God’s Wisdom—God’s logos or logic underpinning all creation—had been lost or forgotten. God’s Word is in the world, yet the world does not know him (cf. John 1:10). I think we have plenty of evidence for this in our own culture, where our nation’s ever-increasing GDP is tragically matched by increasing rates of anxiety, depression, and addiction.
For this reason, when Jesus, the embodiment of God’s wisdom, cries out to us who are weary, he must first address the mistaken lessons we have learned. He must invite us to learn a different way. “Learn from me,” he says (Matt 11:29). In the Greek, the word “learn” comes from the same root as the word “disciple.” To put it very simply: as disciples, we are learners. We are unlearning the way of the world and relearning God’s way. And we do that by imitating Christ. “Learn from me.”
Jesus immediately proceeds to tell us what we’re learning: a heart that is gentle and humble (Matt 11:29). Remarkably, this is the only passage in the Bible that explicitly identifies the character of Jesus’ heart, and by extension, God’s heart. The words used are not “confident” and “self-assured,” or “strong” and “proud.” The words are “gentle and humble.” This is our God’s heart. This is what we are learning. As followers of Christ, we are not learning how to make friends and influence people. We are not learning the art of the deal. We are not learning how to live our best life now. We are learning how to be gentle and humble.
And we see this gentle and humble heart repeatedly in Jesus across his life and ministry, who insists in the gospel of John, “I can do nothing on my own” (John 5:30), who frequently steals away to deserted places to pray (precisely because he cannot do it on his own), who does not reprimand the folks who interrupt his day but shows care for them, who does not ignore little children but lifts them up, who does not insist on being honored and served but who honors and serves, who does not judge and humiliate and exclude tax collectors and others of shamed repute but rather sets a table for them and welcomes them as God’s own children.
Letting Go(d)
The wisdom of God is not a strategy. It is surrender. To have a gentle and humble heart like Christ is not to take, but to open up.
There are a couple of slogans popular in Twelve Step and recovery communities that express very well and very succinctly the movement from a world-weary heart to a gentle and humble heart. The first is a catchphrase you may have heard before: “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Whenever we or others find ourselves saying these words, we are on the cusp of hope. We are on the cusp of hearing our Lord’s invitation to us. For this is the point at which our own wisdom fails, at which our own weariness and heavy burdens become too much. This is the point at which we’re ready for a different wisdom.
The other saying is simple: “Let go, and let God.”
The industrialist insisted to the fisherman that he could do so much more. And the thing is, he was right. The fisherman could have done so much more. Been so much richer. Been so much more secure. But in so doing, he would have missed out on the gifts that God was giving him right where he was.
Prayer
Who is gentle and humble in heart,
Teach us how to let go
Of what will not satisfy,
So that our hearts will be open
To receive what will.
…
Teach us to rely not ourselves,
But on the love of God. Amen.
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