Go deeper out.

                                                         Go deeper out.

Dawn broke over the hills. A rosy hue of cheer he did not appreciate. Once in a while, he wished it would not herald a new day, another day of emptiness.  With each swing of his arm, the net would flare out, slap on the water and sink to the bottom, raising their hopes with each measure of deep and more at the familiar pulling on the drawstring to close its mouth before pulling it back on to the boat. The nets hadn’t come back completely empty of course and each slight pull of weight in it had excited them, till they opened it to dead fish, shells, sticks and seaweed.

His hands were not sore; why would they be? This was barely work. He wished for the familiar ache in his shoulders and arms, his fingers stiff with heavy hauling; it would mean he had something to show for his time spent out here, something to take home to the family. Ruth would have smiled again; instead of the worried frown that seemed to have taken over her pretty face lately. She had every reason – there was barely enough after the Romans had taken their taxes, and the temple priests took their share and then with what was left, he had his family to take care of.

The soft bump of the keel of his boat touching the shoreline broke his reverie. His younger brother, Andrew, hopped out with the crew and pulled it beyond the reach of the whispering waves. Together, they fussed over thier nets which had to be washed clean before putting them away for the evening run when they would try their luck again. Disappointment mirrored on their faces though they did not speak of it. Second day in a row. Where were the fish?

A glance along the beach where the softly hissing waves moved lazily in a pattern along the sand showed his partners by their boats, mending and washing their nets as well. They hadn’t been any luckier.  Empty or not, the nets had to be washed, any tear in them mended and then laid out to dry. All, crucial for their livelihood.

 People moved  about higher up where the grass gave way to the road, prospective buyers returning to their carts equally glum. The lack of fish affected more than just the fishermen; the ripples would reach to the tables of the rich and wealthy who cared nothing for the fishermen who had toiled all night. They would grumble about a lazy workforce who should work harder if they wanted to earn a living.

What did they know?

Simon slapped the net angrily against the water, as if it would help wake the sleepy, errant fish. They were out there he knew it, and they were meant to be in his nets; he cursed under his breath. He had been fishing in these waters ever since he was old enough to walk; his father, his grandfather – that’s all they had ever done. Fish. He knew these waters better than anyone. He knew where the fish rested during the day, where they swam at night; he knew when they bred and when they spawned. He knew them. Yet. Where were the fish?!

A shadow fell over his work and stayed. He looked up into the bearded face, of the Rabbi. Simon stood up with a smile. “Rabbi, my mother in law is well now and has made me promise to invite you for a meal the next time I see you.”  An invitation he hoped the rabbi would politely accept for another day – Simon wasn’t sure if there would be anything at home today.

The Rabbi smiled in acknowledgement, and turned to his brother who had come up to join them. 

“Hello, Andrew.”

“Rabbi” Andrew acknowledged solemnly.

The Rabbi looked over their shoulder and the brothers turned to the noise behind them. A crowd had gathered and was fast approaching. “May I use your boat?” and at their surprised silence, he continued, “I need to speak to them” he gestured at the people “and I cannot do it here. It would be easier just beyond the breakers.”

Andrew and Simon exchanged a glance – why not? There was nothing else to do now anyway. No fish to clean nor dry, nothing to salt nor separate. They shrugged, and motioned for the teacher to get in. When the water was calmer just beyond the waves, the Rabbi stood up and holding on to the mast to brace against the slight bob of the craft, he began to teach. His voice reached easily, the wind carrying the words. The crowds lapped them up as eagerly as the waves that licked the sands.

Simon leaned over the edge, watching small fish dart about in the clear waters. “Call your big brothers” he murmured, “we shall be waiting tonight.” Soon enough, the rabbi was dismissing the crowd, and Simon picked up his oar to bring the craft back to the shore, when to his surprise, the Rabbi suggested, “Come, let’s go out into the deep. And let down your nets for a catch.”

Simon, always frank and never one to waste words, “Master,” he said slowly like he would to a child. He was a fisherman; the Rabbi, only a carpenter, so Simon felt the need to explain why they could not indulge a ridiculous request. “We have been out all night, doing just that, and as you can see, we have nothing to show for it.” His arm swept to the shore where some catch would have been laid out, and to the bottom of his boat that looked too clean to have been witness to flailing fish gasping for their last breath. Its hot, the sun too high, the fish may be resting closer to the bottom of cooler depths, his instincts and experience pushed unspoken thoughts.

His eye caught Andrew’s. His brother had been a follower of John the Baptist who now languished in the prisons of Herod, which was another story, and it was at one of those meetings that Andrew had met the Rabbi. And of course, whenever Andrew was excited over anything, he had to rope Simon in too and had dragged him off to meet the rabbi. Simon, ever indulgent of his little brother, had rarely denied him anything. Not since their father had passed away leaving the family in Simon’s charge.  And Simon knew the boy was hurting about John’s fate; he couldn’t refuse him today. Besides, his little brother was staring at Simon, upset at his tone with the rabbi.

Simon sighed, “Nevertheless, if you want us to, we shall. Hey boys!” He called to James and John,  his partners still by their boats. “We are going fishing. To the Deep! Come if you want to.” As expected, they laughed, and waved him on. His own crew dared not, not if they knew what was good for them. Faces stiff, they unfurled the sail which flapped to pick up the wind; their craft glided out with the hot noon sun blazing down.

The rabbi had turned his face to enjoy the wind as it pushed his long hair off his face. He closed his eyes, a smile on his lips.

“How far out?” one of the men whispered to the other. They had been a crew for years and knew the futility of the exercise just as well; the lake here was already deeper than their nets could reach.

Simon looked at the rabbi in question and at the nod, indicated that the nets be thrown out. Splash! The first net lay for a breath on the surface before sinking slowly. Others followed almost immediately. Fighting impatience he reminded himself - Simon owed the rabbi for his mother-in law’s recovery.  He looked for more silver linings: the words the rabbi had spoken from the boat had an authority he had not heard from other rabbis and teachers at the synagogues. Blood suckers, his brothers, had described them and though Simon had pinched him into silence, he tended to agree. But the Rabbi he now carried in his boat was different: approachable. Oh well, he sighed deeply, may this wasted morning be counted in his list of good deeds, he prayed.

Yet, watching the men sit silently without hope, waiting for orders to retrieve their nets, he could barely hold back his frustration. He would have to clean off the debris and rubbish that would snag in and he wondered how many more holes he would have to mend before breaking off for lunch. His stomach growled as if to remind him. He could not abandon the nets either; they would have to be washed – again –he wondered how much rest they would get before their run at night.

Simon glared at his brother; he should understand there was a limit to how much Simon would do for him, then followed Andrew’s stunned gaze into the water. It was dark and troubled. “Pull up the nets!” he commanded. As the drawstrings closed the mouths and the men tugged at it, the water boiled with thrashing fish! The crew of seven struggled at the weight in them. A sickening tear along a side of a net, spilled out some of the catch.

“Hey!!” He bellowed, waving his arms to catch the attention of his partners who were waiting patiently for them to return. They scrambled into their boat as they realized what was happening. 

Both boats were filling fast with fish whose tails whipped about as they sought to escape, their sharp dorsal fins spiked up in distress. But the men were laughing, ignoring the cuts on bare legs. The nets were thrown out again and again, and each time, they came up laden and heavy.

Gulls squawked and screeched as they dived and fluttered around them in a cloud at the unexpected bounty. The sun glinted off the surface of the lake where two boats in the middle of a lake struggled to cope with an impossible situation.

Simon stared at the rabbi who had moved to the narrow prow of the boat to allow the men space.  The boat was so full, it barely moved with the waves, so there was no danger of the Rabbi falling off balance. His eyes bore back into Simon’s, a slow smile curling the corners of the mouth under that beard. Wading through knee deep fish, Simon climbed up the step that separated the prow from the bottom of the boat; his frustrated, impatient thoughts of earlier calling against his conscience. Falling to his knees he cried out, “Lord! Leave me. I am a sinner!”

“I hope the invitation to lunch is still open. I am famished.” Came the reply.

                                                                                                                   Based on Luke 5: 1- 10.

Susy Matthew

Oct 2019.