February 9 2025
Sermon at Britannia United Church February 9 2025
You might remember this story from the classic Aesop’s fables:
A jar of honey was knocked over and the sticky sweetness of the honey inside flowed out on the table. The sweet smell of that honey soon brought a large number of Flies buzzing around. They did not wait for an invitation. No, indeed; they settled right down, feet and all, on the sticky table to enjoy the feast. Before they knew it, the Flies were quickly smeared from head to foot with honey. Their wings got stuck together. They could not pull their feet out of the sticky mass on the table. I don’t think flies have a very long life-span, but this group of flies had their ending accelerated. In a sense, giving their very lives for the sake of a taste of sweetness.
Too much of a good thing.
Doctors and researchers warn us about indulging too much when it comes to diet, exercise, even sleep. “Everything in moderation”. If you were considering the “brussel sprout 24/7” diet or “cancelling carbohydrates” as part of your lifestyle, think again, they tell you. Those notions might be good, a piece of your daily intake, but its much better to have some of this, some of that, enjoying a balanced diet, exercising normally, getting enough sleep but not so much you miss out on life.
You can have too much of a good thing.
How many of us dream of winning the lottery? Solving all our problems with that bottomless bank account, helping family and friends with their financial woes, quitting that job? And yet, the American Bankruptcy Institute reports that lottery winners are more likely to end up in bankruptcy court than the general population.
More likely to be exploited, less likely to report high satisfaction with their life. While escaping a cycle of poverty is highly satisfying, apparently becoming rich is not as satisfying as you might think.
Sometimes it’s too much of a good thing.
In our gospel reading today, there’s a story about Jesus seeing the fishing boats coming in after a long and disappointing day in the water. He climbed into one boat, and uses it as a kind of pulpit, so that the people who have followed him there can see and hear him.
The gospels don’t specifically tell us what Jesus taught, but it must have been an inspiring message. Because even though they have worked all day (and brought home nothing) the fishers agree to set out again, following Jesus’ instruction to let their nets down on the other side of the boat this time.
Now I don’t know much about fishing, but I spend a lot of time in the water. There are no “lanes” or barriers or fences keeping the fish in a certain place, certainly not in Jesus’ time. The fishers success in bringing home an amazing haul didn’t have anything to do with finding the perfect fishing spot, because fish don’t stay on one side of a boat. It had to be something else, something extra, an act of God, or a perfect storm of conditions, or a Kairos time, when all things just happened to work together for excellent results. Certainly, for the fishers, it showed them the holy possibility of what life alongside Jesus could be.
I’ve preached on this passage many times over the years. This time the phrase that caught my eye was verses 6 and 7:
When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to burst. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.
Even in a Kairos time, apparently, you can have too much of a good thing.
Because what we thought was a gospel story about being empty and then being filled, or what we thought was a miracle story which meant the fishers would go home happy, this gospel story turns out to be a different story altogether. Instead its a story about standing on the brink of danger: whether it be caused by emptiness or over- indulgence – and meeting God in that moment, so that God can point us in a new, life-giving direction.
It is out of the experience of emptiness and then abundance that the disciples hear the call of Jesus for the first time. Not a prosperity gospel, which is going to make them rich if they are faithful, but a gospel of presence, of compassion, of creativity, a gospel which will make them matter.
Simon Peter was completely humbled by the experience. He was most likely the one who argued with Jesus when Jesus asked them to put out into deep water and try fishing again from the other side of the boat. Simon Peter knew that he knew more about fishing than this newcomer. But Jesus used the very thing that Simon Peter was most experienced in, to show him that something new was happening.
And he, Simon Peter, could be part of it. In spite of believing that he was not good enough, that he did not belong, that he was less than holy. He believed God was more likely to strike him with lightening than to welcome him. But..
Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” 11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.
What happened to all the fish? More than the fishers could use, more than they could haul to market, more than they could feed their families and friends. When the fishers left their boats on the shore and followed Jesus, did the fish just rot on the shore? Did someone else enjoy the profit? Maybe they were given away to feed the hungry or to feast with the lonely?
Too much of a good thing can still become a miracle when we choose to share.
I like to think that that dangerous overflow of fish, so much that it threatened to break their nets and sink their boats, I like to think that that miracle became a life-giving belly-filling opportunity for the community to gather and to feed the hungry.
Sometimes, in the life of our church, when times get tough and resources are short, on some level it seems to make sense that the first thing we cut back on is in our outreach projects and work in the community. And yet, it is outreach and community partnerships which are the very thing that keep us from sinking spiritually in that sea of uncertainty and despair.
Even churches can have too much of a good thing.
Last fall, after my retirement, I found it hard to worship in other United Church congregations. After being “in charge” of worship for 35 years, I found it hard to give up my own expectations and priorities and to simply be in worship, to let someone else lead. So I decided to go out into the community and worship ecumenically.
There was a Mennonite church on one of the streets I drove to get to Rideau Park – but I had never been to the building, so I went to worship there one Sunday morning. And to the local Anglican church, and Presbyterian, and the Unitarian Universalist, and the Quaker meeting house… It has been a great break.
Some of those churches I would say were maybe too much of a good thing. We may be jealous of big congregations, with lots of cultural diversity and all ages. But at the biggest one I attended, no one greeted me. No one asked my name or whether I was visiting. They also didn’t promote any outreach projects, or speak about any community partnerships. All their fish seemed to be staying that one overflowing boat.
And then there was a tiny congregations with shelter projects and soup lunches for the homeless – they were not just fishing for souls, but also caring for the most vulnerable in body and spirit, whether it added to their number or not. Which one would I rather be part of? I think you can guess.
There can never be too much sharing, too much compassion, or too much love.
Jesus’ invitation to “fish for people” which unfolds in the gospels, is not meant to be coercive or domineering, profitable or “successful”. His invitation is for us to be doing the caring and relational work of Christ with the world around us. This is deep water work, where healing and hope mark the followers of Jesus, even when they do not feel big enough or strong enough or rich enough. Jesus calls us to share all that we have, and that is good news for the world. Amen
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