Dear Family in Faith,

For a few weeks, the picture in the upper right corner was in one of the windows in our chapel where Jesus’ baptism is depicted.  For the last couple of weeks, it’s been a picture of the window that depicts Jesus calling the first disciples.  We believe our call as Christians is related to both—that our “calling” as faithful believers and disciples is both a part of our baptismal vows, and part of Jesus’ invitation to us “to follow.”  And when I come to these stories now, I’m visually reminded of my opportunity to be physically present on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. 

The picture below was taken just off the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee.  I was standing maybe 150-200 yards off of the actual shoreline (that’s hidden).  Just past the line of shrub-like things, there’s a steep slope down to the water’s edge, and the boat you can see on the water is maybe another 200 yards or so away from the shore.  There are four people in the boat.  And what I didn’t know at the time

I snapped the photo is that two of the persons in the boat were fourth generation fishermen on the Sea of Galilee, and the other two persons were two individuals from our traveling group, who managed to talk their way onto the fishing trip by offering the fishermen money.  I remember this, because at a distance of nearly 400 yards (give or take) you could clearly hear their voices talking.  And because the fishermen were doing most of the talking in middle eastern accents, the people with me on the shore had no idea some of our group were on the boat, which meant we paid no mind to the conversation.  But even at that distance, it was like they had microphones! 

One of the mysteries of visiting the Sea of Galilee is still trying to imagine what the ancient shoreline was like when Jesus was there in the flesh.  One of the places that nearly all tourists visit is where the Sermon on the Mount is said to have taken place—on the top of a hill.  But when you visit there, you discover none of the acoustics “work.”  If Jesus is “on the mount” speaking “down” to the shore—as people tell you at the site—people down below can’t really hear past a few feet.  But if Jesus were “on the shore” speaking to people who were “on the hillside”—whoa!  It’s like the speaker is amplified! 

It’s one of those things that what it says in Matthew’s version of the story (Sermon on the Mount) can’t be true at the same time as what is said in Luke’s version (Sermon on the Plain).  It’s one of those things that if you ever get the chance to have the experience, Jesus speaking from a boat, a few feet out on the water, makes a lot more sense if he were teaching or preaching to a crowd of people.  Whereas Jesus on the mountain?  Matthew’s making more of a theological point in the way he is telling it.  That’s not the important part about this story, though. 

I don’t know what the voice of God actually sounds like to my ear.  I listen.  But for me, often, God’s way of speaking isn’t the voice out of a cloud, or even on the shoreline.  For me, the experience is a feeling—a kind of shudder, a warm sense of calm, a prickly feeling on the back of my head, moments in which I know I should be paying attention.  My father related to me a story this week about his having clearly heard the voice of God speaking to him one day.  Audible.  In his ear.  My dad’s own hearing of it.  He wasn’t on the Sea of Galilee when he heard it.  And there was no such voice when I was walking in Galilee, either.  We talk about listening for and answering God’s call to us—though I don’t imagine it’s always everyone’s experience of an actual, physical, audible voice. 

Last Sunday, I heard the call and claim of God’s voice as a colleague answered the vows of ordination and installation in an installation service conducted by the Presbytery.  The same kind of service that we will celebrate as we ordain and install newly elected officers for FPC in El Dorado.  The voice of God calling, and being answered, or responded to hopefully in faithfulness and with joy—through the “voice” of the congregation’s election of them.  Those vows, an echo of our baptismal vows, of professing our faith, of being welcomed into the household of God and given a purpose. 

In last Sunday’s gospel reading, Jesus offered the disciples a purpose: “from now on you will be catching people.”  And they left everything and followed.  In this week’s gospel reading, there are blessings and woes.  Enough “woe” to make us nervous and uncertain.  Enough blessing perhaps, to sound like our name.  Hear that?  …Jesus is callin g—inviting you to look beyond what’s right in front of you, to the distant horizon.  “Follow me,” says the voice.  …”See you” in Church.