Week 10 (Year 3, NL)

I used to picture humility as a door I was afraid to open. I never thought of it as an itinerary to holiness.

Simon and Andrew immediately left their nets and followed. If only we could respond so quickly.

It has not happened all that often, but on occasions someone has been upset enough with a sermon I've preached to call me up and complain.

Words of judgment are difficult to hear. Actually, I have no trouble hearing how they apply to others. And when the preacher gives a logical explanation of how the law applies to me, I understand it and nod my head in agreement. But it often makes little connection with my heart and even less with the way I live.

Jesus uses this parable to lure us into a trap. Hearing it we cannot help but be thankful we are not like that Pharisee. If we are thankful we are not like him, then we are just like him.

It's easy—from the comfort of my desk, where I’m healthy, well fed and securely employed—to experience a sense of "enough," as I wrote last week. It’s easy to champion compassion, justice and peace (what's not to like?), even when it puts me at odds with a few biblical texts.

The first time I heard the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector was as a small child attending vacation Bible school at Pond Fork Baptist Church. I remember the end of the little curtained balcony where our class was held, sunlight coming into our room rejoicing through a dusty window, the buzzing of insects in the July fields outside, a flannel board with figures stuck on it, and best of all, the anticipation of a story, followed by Kool-Aid and cookies.

Jonah is prophetic minimalism gone amok.

Those first fisher disciples left more than their nets by the seashore.