Fisherman and Sinner Both?

The gospel (Mark 1: 14-20) on this third Sunday in ordinary time, has us trying to catch up with Jesus. He’s launched his mission, announcing that the Kingdom IS here (same phrases as the now-imprisoned John the Baptizer had used), his tone immediate and urgent.  Then he invites strikingly ordinary fishermen to follow him on this extraordinary journey. 

Fishing on a lake in Kerala, India

I’ve often thought that Simon, Andrew, the Zebedee boys initially must have felt that their lives were on the way up, that they had won the lottery.  Something powerful and deeply felt had motivated their decision to “leave their nets.”  From this moment on they could no longer worry about their lives and day-to-day business.  Now with Jesus, they were to be about bringing Good News and healing others… who, to them, before this event, had been strangers perhaps even enemies.  These common fishermen were beginning a journey that would eventually end in their transformation into peculiarly free (and even dangerous) people of the Kingdom. 

It may often surprise – and reassure – us when we notice just whom God calls to do special things in the world of the Bible:  reluctant, complaining prophets like Amos, Jonah and Jeremiah, inexperienced youngsters like David – the boy who would be Israel’s greatest king, Daniel – alien, slave, teenage-seer, and Mary – the maiden who could give an unqualified “yes” to God.  And in today’s gospel… a remarkably unremarkable collection of fishermen’s sons.  Still, I’ve often wondered what compelled them to leave their nets, their places in the world, their responsibilities, their comfort-zones… to follow after a relative nobody.   Jesus of Nazareth was just beginning his work and… well, 30 years is a long time to not be known for anything.  Why take the risk for such an uncertain, “unlikely” reign of God, such as what Jesus was describing!  It appears that, along with such calls from God there always comes the grace to respond...deeply, fully, faithfully.

This Sunday may also have us wondering about how you and I respond to Christ’s call and what is it that we really, deeply desire – not a bad thing at all.  People of the Gospel should never forget how to look forward…to the Kingdom.  Especially today in our youth-obsessed western culture that would have us “yearning backwards” i.e. envying others’ good looks for fear that we’ve lost our own, desperately holding on to some great (if momentary) moment in music, sports, politics, or just endlessly hungry to feel  acknowledged, noticed… we may someday discover that we’ve spent a lifetime leaping from one lily pad to another in our search for happiness… 

Meanwhile, in today’s scriptures, these first “chosen” are described as nothing more than fishermen, pêcheurs in my new language.  In French there’s a play on words here, not lost on the faithful I’ve spoken with.  At each Eucharist we ask God (numerous times, in fact) to forgive us for being “pecheurs”  (sinners), yet’s there’s no doubt that it’s essential for each of us to answer His call to to be “pêcheurs” (fishers) – the two words are proounced exactly the same, my friends smilingly agree.

And so, we baptized (also pretty ordinary, right?) are called in the same way – to follow (i.e. to learn from Jesus in transit with Him) and to announce, to heal, to offer hope.   It seems essential that, in order for us to hang in there with the Lord to complete His mission, we have to learn to know ourselves as He does…enough to neither be shocked to know we are always sinners in need of healing nor perplexed by His complete confidence in us as His evangelizers of others.

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Bonne journée! One day in my life...ici à Vichy

Bienvenu à un jour chez Vichy!

The trouble with being busy is that when one finally does take the time to reflect, the first feeling may be regret for not having slowed down enough to even notice, much less be grateful for one’s life.  December has come and gone.  It’s already Saturday morning, January 7^th.  Those precious weeks of Advent and Christmas, have left me breathless -- there must have been moments that were difficult and tedious, others enjoyable, delightful or amusing.  But all I can remember today are a few thoughts and feelings from what now has become a blur of events and images.  It is always possible, however, to piece together what daily life has been like, here in Vichy, for this not-so-typical student of the French language.

Mornings are quiet at our Maison du Missionnaire in Vichy, since we don’t really see each other until the midday meal.  I begin the process of “getting up” around 5:20 am, when the first of my alarms sounds off.  It takes awhile to get moving these days, but after some 30 minutes of simple calisthenics, getting cleaned up and dressed, a gulp or two of strong French coffee, I’m ready for daily prayer.  Praying by myself in French (it is still for me  “someone else’s language”) can be a personal struggle as I self-consciously recite out loud the words of the psalms, the liturgy of the Mass, hoping one day to “get it right.”  Still, the effort and routine, although occasionally tedious, seems more than worth it during those moments of connection with the Lord and concern for the community.

Through the neighboring Parc des Sources (trottoir couvert)

There’s barely enough time for another coffee and a brioche or fruit before I’m launching myself out the front entrance of the Maison for the 15-minute journey to what must be Vichy’s largest private enterprise, le CAVILAM.  Much smaller, cleaner and “manageable” than Paris, Vichy can be delightful – even restful – to stroll through with it’s 18^th century covered walks, ubiquitous parks and plazas and intersecting alleyways. Unfortunately,  I have little time for all that first thing in the mornings, as I half-march / half-jog through alleyways and across streets to arrive on time. 

On most mornings classes commence at 8:45 and can be in a variety of settings – sometimes a laboratory with computers and headsets but most often in a traditional classroom with narrow tables and chairs arranged in a U to face the instructor.  During their "high season" between May and September, the school expands to other buildings throughout that section of Vichy to accommodate as many as 1,500 or more students during the summer months.  These days, however, there’s little more than a skeleton crew of instructors and administrators for the 50-75 students attending classes.  Unlike my experience of language study in Guatemala which was commonly one-on-one, here a typical class ranges in number from six to sixteen.  Much of our work, however, consists of practicing conversations in pairs or small groups; the instructor keeps the process going, clarifying the tasks or drills, correcting mistakes, encouraging, setting the pace sort of like a high-school sports coach.  Our classes run for 90 minutes straight, each followed by a 15 minute pause for coffee and a breath of fresh air (or cigarette for a suprising number of my classmates).  There’s time for two such sessions each morning, then a two-hour break for the hike and hot lunch back at the Maison and hike back to le CAVILAM, and then another 90 minutes in the afternoon.  After five such workdays you can imagine how ready we are for a break; on Friday afternoons one hears plenty of enthusiastic “Bon Weekend!” as students and teachers rush away to their homes.  In addition to the class routine there are plenty of optional events, cultural trips, social gatherings during the evenings and weekends.

Our general neighborhood around la Maison du Missionnaire.

By 4:15 pm I’ll be back in the neighborhood, at our residence, our Vincentian Maison du Missionnaire.  There’s always time enough to complete homework for the next day classes but what I enjoy most are the meals – lunch and supper – with the confrères and the residents here.  We are a smallish group now with a total of six for the rest of this winter (the five-story house could accomodate 30 guests) but conversations can get lively as stories abound about Madagascar (one Vincentian here is a native Malagash, another has been a 30-year plus missionary there) or local church politics, or – my favorite -- how to properly prepare any one of seemingly countless French dishes…

After supper I’ll watch the televised news (l’information, they call it here), along with Père Roland Pécoul, our most senior Vincentian resident.  Aided by my I-Pad’s Larousse dictionnaire along with the program’s subtitles, I can usually follow what’s happening – at least in France.  Then finally I return upstairs, to complete our little homework assignments (devoirs), or to study French using free Internet sites or even YouTube, or to communicate with friends by SKYPE or email.  

Sometimes such open-ended study can be quite enjoyable!  Lately I've found a few chansons françaises that are more than worth the effort.  Try copying and pasting into your browser the link just below this paragraph -- it's a YouTube site with the song's lyrics of one of my favorites.  The title is  Je suis malade.  It was written by the popular French singer-songwriter Serge Lama and sung by Belgian-born Canadian resident, Lara Fabian.  Elle est fantastique! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIIL5p7_WKk    

Evenings seem too brief for me with so much that one could do to use the time...  But I’m asleep by 11:30 or so on most nights.

All in all, I find language study a demanding experience and often I am sorely tempted to do something else… anything else.  It’s also worrisome to realize that after the immersion studies here (12 weeks) I’ll be communicating at the level of a French toddler.  Still, on those occasions when the fog clears a bit and I can actually grasp the meaning of a conversation and can successfully express an idea, the labor certainly has its rewards.  Voilà!  … yet another new world of peoples, culture and faith begins to open its doors, and… for me, life becomes all the more rich and fascinating.

dpb

frdanborlik@gmail.com