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January 15, 2006 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time Rev. Mr. David J. Shea 1 Sam 3:3b-10, 19 X 1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20 X John 1:35-42
Terry Helms, a coal miner for thirty-five years, was the first body to be found in the Sago Mine after the explosion in West Virginia. His family was being interviewed on Good Morning America only hours after his body had been discovered. His son Nick was asked if he was a coal miner like his father and his uncles. He explained that his father forbid him to become a miner—“He wanted better for myself and my sister—he didn’t want me to have to endure the strenuous work.” The reporter then asked Terry’s brother if he was going back to the mines. He responded, “I am; we have to eat.”
We’ve learned a lot about coal miners these last few weeks. That their regular pay is about $35,000; that they work long, back-breaking, life-threatening hours, and . . . every day, when they leave for work, they say goodbye to their loved-ones as if they’ll never see them again. Coal miners have jobs.
We are a people preoccupied with jobs and careers. A job is paid employment. For many, it is a means to an end. It gives them the money they need to get by; to live and raise their families. A career is what happens when we have a series of jobs over time. Careers carry a sense of increasing experience, greater responsibility and more money.
And then there’s the calling. It links what we do to someone else or something else. People follow a calling even when there’s no money, or power, or notoriety—they follow a calling because they believe it’s the right thing to do. A calling is there when we don't have a job. A calling is there when we've never had a career. A calling is there even after you've retired from the world of work.
We believe that callings come from God. But there’s something about them that almost guarantees we’ll find it hard to recognize them. The whole idea of God hand-picking us for a special task—it’s a bit overwhelming. And . . . it’s frightening and mysterious. Is there any one of us who wouldn’t feel special, privileged, honored, and . . . scared out of our wits if God called on you today and said, “I want you!”? While God certainly speaks with power, He often speaks with a whisper making it so hard to know who’s calling. Nothing like the distinctive ring tones on our cell phones. But the truth is, He’s calling—not the just grand and famous, but the common and run of the mill. Like most of us.
Like Samuel. He was a remarkably normal human being. He was just a boy when he was awakened in a dream. So we’re not surprised when his mistakes the voice of God with that of the old priest Eli. And Eli, well it takes three wake-up calls for him to realize that it may be God calling Samuel, and not a bad dream—that God just might be calling this boy.
And then there’s Andrew, one of the first two disciples. He certainly wasn’t a follower of Jesus, not at first—trailer is more like it. He stayed at a distance and that was as close as he wanted to get to Jesus. And when Jesus turns and asks Andrew and his friend, “What are you looking for?” they give a real peculiar answer—“Where are you staying?” So Jesus invites them to come and see. Whatever Andrew that day was enough for him—he was convinced. But you know, there wasn’t anything special about Andrew. He doesn’t run off and starting preaching to large groups and share what he had seen. He only goes to his brother, someone he knew the best. A simple action, but one with grand consequences. He invited Simon to follow Jesus—one person inviting another and bringing him to Christ.
From the very beginning of his ministry, Jesus invited and surrounded himself with the most ordinary people. People like Andrew, with no standing in the community, no prominence, no wealth or particularly strong religious orientation. They were people with jobs; they were making a living. Christ called them. And most of them struggled terribly to figure out what was happening to them—they denied it, some ignored it, and most took their sweet-old time to do something about it. But they eventually did answer. Better late than never.
For many of us, the notion of a calling is completely foreign. Whether our careers are thriving and we’re on fast tracks, or we’re simply getting by. Whether we’re excited about what we’re doing, or life is being drained out of us by the drudgery of our jobs. God calls us—every one of us. Not all of us are convinced, but right here in this community there are those who have heard the presence of Christ in the very living of their lives. Those who have passed-up higher paying careers to be teachers; those who have put their lives on-hold to be stay-at-home moms; those who have downsized their homes and given up on new cars and expensive vacations to have more children; the retired who visit the sick and bring them Communion. And hundreds of others, doing a host of different things answering God’s call.
It would be easy if God only called a select few and left the rest of us alone. But it’s not that way. Oh, we can pretend we’re not being called. We can ignore God, we can demand proof, we can bargain with Him, and we can ask our questions—“Give me a break God, I’ve got some other things I’ve got to get done; can’t I just wait for a while?” But God is not going to stop. Christ is unrelenting—he wants all of us; he needs all of us.
God hopes to change the world. And He starts with the likes of Samuel and Andrew, and with the likes of the very ordinary person sitting next to you right now. The children and teens, who think they’re too young for God to call them; the middle-aged and disappointed with their careers and forced to let-go of some lifelong goals; the retired and the old, who only think that God calls the young. Christ has things in mind for us and Christ has always done his best work through the ordinary. And we can never stop listening—God wants to hear each of us answer, “Here I am Lord.” © David J. Shea
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