DEPART FROM ME, FOR I AM A SINFUL MAN

 A SERMON FOR THE 4TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

When our Lord performed his miracle of the draught of fishes, he revealed his divine nature for the first time to St. Peter and the other disciples.  For obviously this was no ordinary man.  They had toiled all the night and had caught nothing.  This was in itself highly unusual, indeed perhaps miraculous.  The Lake of Gennesaret, known today as the See of Galilee, is a body of water literally teeming with fish.  The most prevalent species of fish is the Galilee Tilapia, known locally as “St. Peter’s fish”.  About 300 tons of this Tilapia were fished from the lake in 2005, so for Peter and his fishermen friends to come up with not a single fish was not only highly unusual but probably unheard of.  They must have been beyond disappointed and even seriously concerned as they cleaned their nets that morning.

Then along came this man, who simply told them to put their nets back on the boat and head back out on the lake.  After a miserable and wasted night, and after spending a great deal of time cleaning the nets that had caught nothing, the last thing they wanted to do was try again.  But something inside Peter made him obey this man.  It didn’t stop him from complaining of course—it wouldn’t be St. Peter if he didn’t have something to say about it—but after grumbling to the man, whom he calls “Master,” that they had toiled all the night and had taken nothing, he spoke those now memorable words of submission: “Nevertheless, at thy word I will let down the net.”  Did he have some inkling that the “word” of this stranger was of more value than the word of any other?  Could he possibly have been given some interior disposition to recognize that this was in fact the Word himself, the Word that was in the beginning with God, the Word that was God?  We don’t know what was going on inside Peter’s head, but we do know that he was driven to disregard the instinctive and logical refusal that would have been the reaction of most of us, and simply do what the man said.

When the nets were then filled to capacity, so much so that they were in danger of breaking, his reaction was instantaneous and remarkable in its simplicity.  He knew a miracle when he saw it, and he fell to his knees before our Lord, in abject humility and the awful realization that he was in the presence of someone far beyond his own mortal limitations: “Depart from me: for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”  Before the miracle, he had called him “Master”, but now he calls him “Lord.”  This was the same St. Peter who would later be the one apostle to answer our Lord’s question, “But who say ye that I am?”  “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God!”  These words of Peter were not made on the spur of the moment, but were the culmination of three years in our Lord’s presence, following him, hearing his teachings, seeing his miracles.  This was the first of those miracles, and already it had ignited the spark of recognition of our blessed Lord’s divinity. 

This faith would fail him several times during the course of those three years.  Let’s not forget when he sank beneath the waves he had tried walking on, or how he couldn’t stay awake during our Lord’s agony in the garden, his terrified flight from that garden when the soldiers arrested our Lord, and of course his triple denial before the cock crew.  But he had always come back, repentant for his disloyalty, eager to make up for his cowardice, and, ultimately, loyal to the death.  He was a man, and like all men, was a sinful man.  His saving grace was that he recognized that he was a sinner, unfit to be in the presence of God: “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!” 

Sinful or not, our Lord saw fit to make St. Peter the rock upon which he would build his Church.  And we who are members of that Church and are no less sinful than Peter was, we are called upon today to be what he was: fishers of men.  We must follow the example of St. Peter, who when faced with the presence of God, rose above his own sense of unworthiness, and “forsook all, and followed him.”  We who are even less worthy than the great St. Peter must also forsake everything we have and follow him.  That doesn’t mean we have to give up our wives and husbands, neglect our children, sell our homes and give all our money to the poor.  It does mean, however, that we should see all these in their proper light, as gifts from God, given to us for our salvation.  We may cherish our material goods to a certain point, certainly, and especially our families and loved ones, but we must cherish them chiefly because they are the gifts of God.  We must never cease to thank God for the great draught of fishes we enjoy—for it was not by our own efforts alone that we have them, but because God pointed us in the right direction, sending us out time and again to to find a good spouse, to rear good children who would love God in their turn, to work hard day after day to earn our daily bread, and yes, even those little luxuries we enjoy.  Without God we would simply toil all the day and night, groaning and travailing in pain as it says in the Epistle.  And we would take nothing. 

Or at least, we would take nothing worth having. For the godless people in the world may have many riches.  They may be able to change spouses whenever they feel like it and for any reason at all.  They can live in their fancy houses, travel the world, staying in the best hotels, never have to work, go sailing in their yachts with their cutesy little third or fourth wife—but these are not gifts of God.  God’s gifts are for our salvation, not solely for our enjoyment.  These riches that God allows even wicked people to accrue, are nothing more than the natural reward they are given in this life for the natural goodness that is in them.  This natural and fleeting reward is, alas, all they should expect.  So please don’t envy them.

We who know God, know that he is a jealous God, a God who demands our obedience, our respect, and above all our love.  We who know God also know ourselves, and exactly what our own sinful humanity is in comparison to the infinite perfection of the divine.  Our instinctive reaction to this realization should be that of St. Peter, begging the God who is so perfect to depart from us who are so far beneath him.  And yet, the Word of God tells us that he will not depart from us.  Instead, he beckons us to come and follow him: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and humble of heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”  And so we come before God today, humble in our sinfulness, repentant and eager to do better.  For if our blessed Lord is “meek and humble of heart” how much meeker and humbler should we be?  So don’t be discouraged, let out your nets yet again, and keep praying, keep receiving our blessed Lord in the Sacrament of the Altar.  Do this and you will receive a multitude of graces so great that your souls can barely cope.  “O Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof.  Say but the word, and my soul shall be healed.”