04. St. John At Home.
IX.
St. John’s first meeting with Jesus took place on the banks of the Jordan, where he was in attendance on the services of a religious revival and spending days of leisure among a multitude of strangers; his second decisive meeting with him took place at home, in the midst of his friends and when he was engaged in his ordinary work. On the first occasion he sought Jesus; on the second Jesus came to seek him. This is in accordance with the law and practice of Christ’s kingdom: if, on sacred days and in sacred places, where the multitude convene for religious purposes, we seek Jesus and find him, he is quite certain to find us out, subsequently, in our week-day life—in the home and at business—and demand recognition and service in the presence of our ordinary acquaintances. The home of St. John was on the Sea of Galilee—a charming place in which to be born and brought up; for it was the loveliest spot of a lovely country. On account of the great depth of the basin of the lake, 680 feet below the level of the sea and much more below the tableland of Galilee, it enjoyed a tropical climate; the hills, which sloped down to the water’s edge, were covered with the choicest crops; and at their feet were bowers of olive and oleander, or meadows gay with a thousand flowers. In the midst of this wealth of foliage lay the heart-shaped expanse of water like a sapphire set in an emerald, except when storms, sweeping down from the gullies of the neighboring hills, churned it into foam. The frequency of wind on the lake modified the heat of the climate and rendered an active life more easy; and, therefore, although a scene of tropical beauty, the district was the very reverse of a scene of idleness. The fish in the lake were so extraordinarily numerous that they not only supplied food to the neighborhood, but were sent in large quantities to satisfy the hunger of the multitudes who assembled in Jerusalem at the annual feasts and were even known in distant seaports of the Mediterranean. As more than one of the most frequented highways of the ancient world passed through the basin of the lake, there was also an extensive transport trade, as many as four thousand boats plying for this purpose on its limited surface, which measured only fifteen miles by eight. Subserving these chief industries, others, like boat-building and cooperage, occupied a vast population. Nine towns, with fifteen thousand inhabitants apiece, according to a contemporary witness, surrounded the shore, which at the more populous points must have presented the appearance of a continuous city.
Here, then, amid sights and sounds of beauty to fascinate the heart and occupations to employ the mind, St. John had grown up; and there had been nothing in his youth to suggest that his destiny was to be different from that of the other sons of obscurity and toil who, in that corner of the world, had rejoiced, sorrowed and died from generation to generation. But it is impossible to predict what may be the history of any son of Adam. However humble may be the spot where he is born in time, his spirit comes out of the infinite azure of eternity, and its possibilities are incalculable. Besides, St. John belonged to a nation no child of which was safe from thoughts soaring far beyond its birthplace and its own generation, because he was heir to a splendid past and a still more splendid future. In point of fact, the lake on whose margin St. John was born was destined to be lifted up out of its obscurity into everlasting visibility and renown, and in this splendid destiny he was to participate. But it was the coming of Jesus which made all the difference.
X. The exact spot in the lake region where St. John was born is not known with certainty. But he informs us himself that “Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter;” and, as we learn from the other evangelists that he and his brother James were partners in business with Andrew and Peter, the probability is that they belonged to the same place. Bethsaida has been long ago blotted out of existence, and there is some difficulty in identifying its site; many, indeed, have believed that there existed two towns of this name, one on each side of the Jordan where it enters the lake, but this is improbable. There is no doubt, however, that Bethsaida stood in the opener, busier and more beautiful part of the region.
If it be the case that John and James, as well as Philip, Andrew and Peter, belonged to Bethsaida, the fact emerges, that from this one small town Jesus obtained five out of his twelve apostles—a circumstance only paralleled in its singularity by the opposite fact, that of the twelve not one belonged to Jerusalem. All five had also apparently been disciples of the Baptist before becoming disciples of Jesus. What can have been the explanation of a combination so remarkable? Was there a rabbi in the synagogue of Bethsaida who had trained the youth of the place in piety and aspiration? All the teachers even of that soulless age were not bad men. Or was it to the prayers of their parents that this galaxy of youthful earnestness was due? From the fact that Zebedee offered no opposition to his sons when they left their business to follow Jesus we may infer that his sympathies were on the right side. His wife, Salome, appears later as an enthusiastic supporter of the good cause. In Bethsaida there may have been a circle of godly souls whose united prayers were answered when their sons simultaneously joined the religious movements of the Baptist and Jesus. Or was it one of the young men themselves by whose magnetism the rest were drawn into the paths of peace? If so, was this leader John, or Peter, or one of those less known? One likes to speculate on the possible causes of such a phenomenon, even though we cannot hope for a decided answer. Five young men of the same town could not, all together, have taken such a course without some powerful influence being at work in secret. Every visible pillar in the temple of God rests upon an invisible one sunk beneath the surface of history. Honor to the unknown workers, who have no name or fame on earth but without whose labor and patience the edifice could not have been erected!
Besides John, his father, his brother and his partners, we see in the boats on this occasion “hired servants”; and this circumstance has been combined with other slight indications in the Gospels to support the inference that St. John belonged to a condition in life considerably removed from poverty, with the possibility of connections even with the more select classes of society. However this may be, he certainly was a young man well known in the neighborhood to which he belonged; and the names and figures mentioned in the narrative easily enable us to summon up before the mind’s eye a larger circle of relatives and acquaintances, by whom he was surrounded, when the crisis of his life arrived and he had to make the decisive choice. Their eyes were upon him; their tongues, he could not but be aware, would criticise his action. But Christ, who had obtained his worship before at a distance and among strangers, had now come to summon him to take up the cross of confession and follow him in the place of his abode and in the presence of his neighbors.
XI.
John was at work when Jesus approached him. In the neighboring fields the great Teacher was followed by a vast multitude, to whom he had been preaching. Perhaps the sound of his voice had penetrated to the boat where John was. But the fisherman could not join the congregation, because he was occupied with unavoidable duty. Indeed, he had been at work all night, as fishermen on the Sea of Galilee often were; and he could not leave in disorder the nets which they had been using. So there he was at work, mending the nets, with marks of his prolonged toil visible on his person and his clothes, when Jesus came.
Jesus did not tell him that he ought to have been in the congregation, listening to the Word instead of fishing. On the contrary, he sent him back again to fish. He even entered into partnership with him, telling him the exact spot of the lake to which to go and the side of the ship from which to cast out the net. Thus St. John learned that Christ knew more about the sea than he, though he had lived on it all his days, and he found out how successful work is when in the doing of it the advice of Jesus is followed. We think that it is only with our spiritual affairs that Jesus is concerned, but he knows about our occupation, whatever it may be, better than we do ourselves. Many are afraid that, it they listened to the voice of Jesus when they are at their work, they could not get on; but the experience of St. John proves the very opposite.
Perhaps this experience was intended to convince St. John and his associates that in all their successes on the water in the past a higher Hand had been at work than they had always realized. “Every good and every perfect gift is from above” whether it come by the direct path of miracle or in more circuitous ways. But the great lesson of the occasion bore upon the future. Jesus was about to call away St. John and his partner from their boats and nets; they were practical men, accustomed to earn their bread and look sharply after their hardly-earned gains; they could not but ask on what they were to depend, and what provision was to be made for those whom they left behind. The miracle of the draught of fishes was the answer to these unexpressed inquiries. Could they doubt the ability to provide of One who so evidently had the resources of nature at his command?
Yet even this was not the profoundest effect which Jesus produced on their spirits. St. Peter, grovelling in the bottom of the boat at the feet of Jesus and crying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord,” gave expression to the sentiment which was in all their hearts, and especially, we may be sure, in the sensitive heart of St. John. In modern arguments about miracles these occurrences are generally spoken of as if they had been irresistible demonstrations addressed to the intellect. This, however, does not appear to have been the way in which they acted. Their effect was moral; they told upon the emotional nature. A miracle happening beside anyone conveyed an overwhelming impression that God was near; and the spectator shrank into himself as a weak and guilty being. Must not the most convincing proof in the religious sphere always be of this nature? As the sun requires no demonstration when we are standing in the light and warmth of his beams, so the best proof of God is his presence and his working. Life does not lack experience of which every unsophisticated mind spontaneously says: “This also cometh forth from the Lord of hosts, who is wonderful in counsel and excellent in working.” Nor are these experiences far to seek. As the boat of St. John was transformed into a theatre for the manifestation of Christ’s power, so is the pathway of the humblest strewn with experiences which announce the living God; and the Spirit of God strives with every human soul.
XII. When Christ had subdued the minds of St. John and his companions with an overpowering sense of his authority, he uttered the call for which he had been preparing them. But he couched it in the simplest terms, still keeping to the level of their actual life: “I will make you,” he said, “fishers of men.”
He was calling them away from the employment, by which they had hitherto earned their bread; but they were still to continue to be fishers. Between their past and their future life there was to be no violent break. The skill and experience which they had acquired by faithfulness in the lower sphere were still to be available in the new sphere to which he was calling them up. “All things are double one against another,” says the sage of the apocryphal book of Ecclesiasticus; the spiritual and the temporal worlds correspond each to each; and a human being cannot exercise any honest calling conscientiously without learning from it lessons about things on a loftier plane and being prepared for a higher service. When they afterwards reflected, as they must have done a thousand times, on what it signified to be fishers of men, no better commentary could possibly have been found than Christ’s own method on this occasion in dealing with themselves. He was the supreme Fisher, and this day he was fishing for them. He approached them cautiously: they saw the crowd in their vicinity, and this aroused their curiosity before he came near. Then he asked the loan of their boat, to serve for a pulpit; and thus, to a certain extent, they were made partners in his work and interested in its success. Then he showed his interest in their work and astonished them by his knowledge of where the fishes were to be found. Step by step he led them on, till at last the glory of his superiority flashed upon them and they were at his feet, ready to do whatever he might say. This is the way to fish for men—gradually, cautiously, delicately. Weighty above all is the law enunciated by St. Paul, and supremely illustrated on this as on every occasion by Christ—first that which is natural, afterwards that which is spiritual. The fisher for men must find people where they are; he must understand human nature and human life; the more he knows about common occupations the better: he must be able to sympathize with men’s reverses and successes, with the subtle movements of womanly feeling, and even with the dreams of childhood; he must believe that God is leading human beings to himself along the pathway of their daily experience, and that it is only as he co-operates with this intention of Providence that he can do them good.
Minor lessons about the art to which they were being called were also to be learned by looking back. They had toiled all night and caught nothing; so it is sometimes the lot of the fisher of men to labor in vain and expend his strength for naught. Again, both the hour and the place in which the Lord told them to fish appeared unpropitious; because the best time for fishing was by night, whereas he sent them to it in daylight; and fish are generally most plentiful inshore, while he sent them forth into the deep. So in spiritual fishing, the most unlikely spots and the most unpromising seasons sometimes yield the best results. And, at all events, whenever we have the Lord’s command to launch them forth, there ought to be no hesitation to go and, at his word, let down the nets for a draught. St. John and St. Peter must often have wondered when in the spiritual waters they would see anything corresponding to the take of that morning, when the sea seemed alive with fishes and their nets could not contain them all. But this hope was gloriously fulfilled when, at Pentecost and in the times of refreshing which followed, they saw men by the thousand being brought, through the preaching of the cross and the outpouring of the Spirit, into the net of the Kingdom.
XIII.
Jesus had given the call; it was impressive and it had gone home; but it remained to be seen whether those to whom it had been addressed would respond. To obey involved a serious practical step. Jesus had said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” They were not to be fishers of men at once: they were to be made so by degrees, and the art was to be acquired by following him. This is the rule always; this is the only way to learn; none can be fishers of men who have not first followed Jesus. But for them this implied the forsaking of their homes and the business they had learned, that they might literally accompany him whithersoever he went. This could not be an easy thing. St. Peter was already married, and though St. John probably was not thus bound he was a partner in a business in which his father, growing old, required his strength and skill. Life is a complicated thing, and it is never easy to wrench one’s self out of the position in which one has been fixed by time and custom. Doubtless there were neighbors who would consider it an unwise thing to let go a business which might be prosperous in order to go after a wandering rabbi, whose aims and pretensions were problematical. But on the spot they left all—boats, nets, relatives—even the miraculous draught of fishes, apparently, they did not stay to secure; they left all, rose up, and followed him. For the most of us, to follow Jesus does not involve the quitting of home or the throwing up of business: we are called to follow him at home and in business. Yet it does in every case involve self-denial and sacrifice. He calls us away from excessive and exclusive devotion to any earthly thing, whether it be pleasure or home or business. Many are starving their spiritual life, and declining every invitation to usefulness, because they cannot drag themselves away from the making of money or the engagements of society. Even the hours of the day of rest are denied to God— of course they have no time for worship during the week—and the needs of a perishing world appeal to them in vain. Does it not shame us to read, “They left all, rose up, and followed him”? What have we left? What are we sacrificing?
“They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were slain with the sword, being destitute, afflicted, tormented.” Such things have men been able to do and to bear for the sake of religion: they have gladly laid down their lives for Christ. How much are we able to do and to suffer for the same sacred cause?