Do you feel called?
Texts: Isaiah 6:1-8, Luke 5:1-11
Most of us clergy get all swoon-y when we hear the story of Isaiah’s call. It’s so dramatic - swirling smoke, thunderous voices, six-winged flying snakes (yes, that’s what seraphim are), a glimpse of the lofty God in the temple - and there’s little Isaiah in the midst of this place of utter otherworldly holiness, answering the question whom shall I send? saying here am I, send me! And for extra points, Isaiah recognizes his unworthiness to even be in this holy place among these holy beings, and is mercifully purified by fire. So we love it not only because it is one of the most fantastic, spectacular call stories in the Bible but because we clergy can attach ourselves to it since it was the probably also the reading at our ordinations.
But recently I was listening in on a conversation among clergy and Bible scholars one of whom remarked, actually, lots of the people in congregations don’t feel that they are called. They have not had the experience of Isaiah, or the experience of Peter and James and John. Many may even hear these stories and think, actually, I hope that never happens to me!
And this is complicated by the fact that these days, when we talk about a calling, vocation, when we recall these “call stories” steeped in mystery and smoke, stories of people leaving their jobs and families to follow Jesus, what we think of is a call to ordination in the church or to professional religious life of some sort.
And that lets everyone else off the hook. You haven’t had one of these experiences? No smoke and thunderous voices, no Jesus in a boat nearby? No worries. That’s only for certain people, like the disciples, like prophets and kings, like monks or nuns, like clergy.
Last week Rosemary Jones and I convened a group of youth who are preparing for confirmation in the church. We gave them prayer books and suggested they look through the catechism, the outline of the faith, which provides a brief summary of he Church’s teaching about our beliefs and practices. It’s organized by topic and laid out in a question and answer form. We read through a few and left the rest for them to read on their own.
Under the section “The Church:”
Q: Who are the ministers of the Church?
A: The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.
The ministers of the Church, first, are the laity, and then those other people. And it goes on:
Under the “Ministry” section:
Q: Through whom does The Church carry out its mission?
A: The Church carries out its mission through the ministry of all its members.
Q: What is the ministry of the laity?
A: The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.
Those of us who are reading Verna Dozier’s book The Dream of God will recognize that this section of the catechism informs her own passion for the recognition by everyone - church leaders included - that ministering means regular people following Jesus as they live in the world, not just what they do when they come to church. It means that everyone who considers themselves a Christian is called.
So, if most folks don’t get the smoke and snakes or Jesus showing up at our work place to make a suggestion experience, what does a calling sound like anyway?
One of my former teachers, Brian Mahan, who is not ordained, wrote a book called Forgetting Ourselves on Purpose: Vocation and the Ethics of Ambition in which he uses the term “epiphanies of recruitment.” An epiphany of recruitment is an experience through which we feel drawn to give ourselves over to a purpose beyond ourselves and to life a different kind of life. These epiphanies happen in real, regular life, and they may not make sense to anyone but us, but they are experiences of calling.
Professor Mahan tells the story of himself as a young child, sitting on a Sunday morning in his Roman Catholic parish, his pocket filled with all the coins he’d been saving from his allowance. Upon hearing a guest speaker talk about her work with the poor through the St. Vincent de Paul Society, he felt so moved that he emptied his pocket full of dimes into the offering plate. He was just a child, but he felt in that moment a calling to something beyond himself, and he responded. Responding to vocation, he told us, is giving over oneself, one’s life, to compassion for others and for the world.
But this is not necessarily a feel good story. Professor Mahan’s father was angry at him for giving away all his money and withheld his allowance for two weeks as a punishment for being so foolish. Jesus has taught us this too, of course, and tried, often without success, to help his followers understand that the world may not reward those who follow him. Even without the snakes and the smoke and the burning coal of purification, there is a danger to being called. And many of us like our lives just fine as they are and would prefer not to be called to life a different kind of life. And maybe that’s why it’s so tempting not to listen for it, and not to recognize it. Maybe that’s why it’s so tempting to assign calling to special people who are not us.
But we are all called, each according to our gifts, young and old, energetic and tired, poets and spread sheet enthusiasts, called to ministry wherever we are, called to live lives of compassion for others and the world. And we have to be open to hearing that call, recognizing that it may not be a mountain top otherworldly experience. It might just come any old day in any old place. So we have to listen every day and be willing to respond as it comes, just like Simon and James and John did on that day in the boat. Every day Jesus points to what needs attention in the world, in our community, asking whom shall I send? Just read the paper, join a group, check out the bulletin announcements, look around you, and notice. That’s listening. And hear the call as you notice, whom shall I send? Who can do this today? Who can do that?
And then responding. Yes. I can do that. Yes, I will follow. Yes, I will give according to my ability. Yes, I will put aside my agenda and answer, yes.
We all have a calling to follow Jesus, to be his ministers on any day the need is there. And this is what it means to follow Jesus: to listen for that call and then to respond with yes.
*Images from the stained glass windows at the decommissioned Cathedral of St. Tudwal in Treguier, Brittany.
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