At some point, people decided that peacocks had the right idea, and feathered flamboyance entered the fashion world!
This phrase comes from the
Britex Fabrics article: “Feathers in fashion: A History of Plumage”
After last week’s Atlantic
Ministry Area service, where Suzy (puppet in kid’s
corner conversation) was quite excited by the thought of Area pastors
wearing feather boas, how could I not; knowing too that Pastor Rick in
Lunenburg has a green fuzzy boa-esque scarf for his service this week.
The boa though reminds me of
a story --- well a few stories--- that I want to share with you in conversation
with today’s Gospel reading from Luke.
When arriving in my first
parish, I was a fish out of water. I was 25, from two provinces away, with a
love for liturgy, bursting with creativity and lots of ideas. I didn’t own a
black suit coat, and all my socks were patterned, including a pair of rainbow
toe socks. I was the first woman pastor
in the area and my closest Lutheran colleagues were an hour away across the
border in the United States or three hours south at the other end of the
province.
Reflecting back … I showed
up with a feathered flamboyance and entered a settled faithful faith community. Different fish.
Being a feather-boa-sort, ministering
with a different kind of fish, there were many encounters on the lake, fishing
to know each other:
I clearly remember the first
service, nervous and excited, wanting to prove to myself that I could do this;
it wasn’t until halfway through the sermon when there was a collective release
of air…. There was an acceptance that this Sunday relationship was going to be
okay: I realized nothing was going to be thrown at me. And the congregation
heard I can preach.
I clearly remember the first
time I arrived at the local restaurant where the older men had their morning
coffee hang out. After finding me a chair I joined them. The men were rather
quiet – they had been talking up a storm when I walked in. The conversation changed
it was politely pleasant. I was invited to join them anytime.
The second time I showed up the
men were different – they were themselves. There was a collective acceptance “I
came back, I had accepted their invitation. I thought they were okay.’ Then it happened. Fish story after fish story.
I was trusted with their sacred stories: the ones that they told each other;
stories told a 100 times and crafted with new exaggerations and fantastical
feats in each telling.
I heard the miraculous: –
boats so laden with fish that it took the calling of buddies to bring in the
haul- there was so much abundance they would eat for a winter, and their
neighbours too, freezers full. The telling of the fish stories though was not
about the fish at all. The telling of fish stories was about trust and
acceptance, sharing experiences -as exaggerated as they might have been- with
another person, testing the listener’s listening ability, their caring ability,
their ability to laugh, their openness to the truth nuggets interspersed in a
miraculous story.
The telling of the fish
stories and hearing the fish stories- meant that later on as we lived in
community, I would hear the Peter pleas too. Remember in the Gospel Peter says,
“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”
The fish stories built enough
trust that they knew I would not leave. I would hear their confessions, and
yes, they were heavy: secrets, alcoholism, violence, adultery, depression, lack
of faith, bankruptcy, inner demons (for lack of better term). And in that moment, I was Jesus in Simon’s
boat, out in the deep water, far from shore, rocking back and forth, where the
miracle was not the abundance of fish or fish stories, but the confession of
being human.
Jesus sat in the boat with
Simon that day and listened. Jesus did not turn Simon way. Jesus accepted
Simon; That may be Simon, but “do not be afraid; from now on you will be
catching people.”
In the articulation of not
being perfect, of failing (to love God and love others), in this raw uncut
unexaggerated moment, Jesus called Simon to go and be about the very thing that
he confesses he has failed to do.
This is Black History month.
Synod’s Racial Justice Advisory Group his challenging members of the Synod to
do something: read a novel by a Black author, learn about Black Canadians, seek
out presentations offered by local libraries or Black cultural groups. Do something!
Obviously, I have had
fishing stories on my mind this week. So I did a search and learned two things:
In St John, NB, prior to
1870, the growing black population was barred from living in the city limits
and from fishing in the St. John Harbour.
Further exploration of Blacks
fishing in Canada led me to the work of Canadian Historian and Professor at
Dalhousie University, Afua Cooper. She writes about connections between
Newfoundland and Jamaican culture. For centuries NFLD cod fed Black slaves in
the Caribbean -dried cod went down, rum (Screech) and molasses came back. Cod is Jamaica’s national dish. Slaves from
the Caribbean were brought to the Grand Banks to fish, coming into St. John’s
to dry the cod. Ships with black fishers
were so excellent at it, whites banned them from coming to fish locally.
These tidbits of history of
Black lives in St. John and St. John’s point to a group of people putting a kibosh
on miracles; good fishers are stopped. White government worked at controlling
experience and the possibility of abundance. The miracle of abundance -of fish-
was right there, but the moment was lost.
Settlers decided not to face
and articulate their humanness: the sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, shame,
guilt, letting go of ego – as Simon did. If they had, they would have experienced the
miracle, invited the other boats to help, and then moved on to work at going to
fish together. Somehow the miracle
passed by unnoticed as ego drove the people of St. John and St. John’s to build
walls, hold on to authority, advance one’s cause above another, create systems
to improve the life of some, segregate life to have a better life at the
expense of others.
Jesus had already been out
and about doing ministry. Calling the disciples was not his first task after
baptism, like it is in some of the other Gospels. Today was just another
miracle - another day at the office. Already
crowds were following Jesus, that’s why Jesus climbed into Simon’s boat in the
first place, so that the boat could be set out a bit from shore and Jesus could
sit and teach from there.
After teaching Jesus went
out to the deeps to go fishing. The nets were cast, and Simon called other
boats to come and help. There was enough fish for today and tomorrow and for
the community the tomorrow after tomorrow. Abundance allowed them to leave,
everything at home was looked after.
The story is not about this
miracle and abundance. The story is the miracle that happened when Jesus set
out with them and listened to their fish stories… sharing their stories they
shared themselves …confession was made allowing eyes to open. Jesus was still there accepting them with all
their sins and foibles. And offering ‘fear not, come fish for people.’
And they left their boats on
shore and followed Jesus.
It is time to leave our
boats on the shore, along with the cod, the rum, the molasses…
To go be the bearers of true
miracle… accepting human confession and being God’s presence.
Go - Wear your fabulous
flamboyant feathers and listen to fish stories.
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