Isaiah 9.1-4, Matthew 4.12-23
Land of Zebulun, land of Napthali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles – the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.”
We heard those words, or variations on them, twice this morning. The general gist might have been obvious – they are words of good news to people who are desperate for light in a time of darkness – but some of the detail may have slid over our heads. Lands of Zebulun and Naphtali? Galilee of the Gentiles? Where are these places? Why does it matter so much to Matthew to tell us that this story about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry is set there?
Matthew’s first hearers would have known the answer, even if we don’t. The tribal lands of Zebulun and Naphtali were in the northern part of what we would now think of as Israel, around the sea of Galilee, but it had been a long time since any members of those ancient tribes had lived there. Seven hundred years before Jesus, the brutal Assyrian armies had swept over the north of Israel and deported the people who lived there, scattering them across their vast empire, where they simply disappeared, swallowed up into the nations they went to. They’d resettling the area with people from other countries and faiths. That’s why it was called Galilee of the Gentiles or Galilee of the Nations. Galilee just means “region”, so this was the region where you’d find people from many backgrounds, in contrast to the more exclusively Jewish areas in the south around the Jerusalem, and historically it was disputed territory, a tinder box where trouble was often brewing.
Assyrian rulers had been followed by Babylonians and then by the Greeks, and by the time of Jesus, large numbers of Roman soldiers were encamped there, living off the rich crops this fertile territory provided, whether the locals liked it or not.
When Isaiah promises that God will set this area free, bringing light into its darkness, he is making a very subversive statement, and when Matthew applies his words to Jesus, he is being equally provocative. He’s setting us up for a story about the use and abuse of power, about kingdoms – human and divine - and how they are built and ruled. It’s no accident that his stories about the birth of Christ centre around the visit of the Magi to corrupt King Herod, and the massacre it unleashes.
And the first stories he tells of Jesus’ adult ministry are about conflict too. John the Baptist has been arrested because of his challenge to Herod’s son, another corrupt king. Jesus had heard about this. He could have decided to give it all up there and then, but he doesn’t, but instead he wades straight in and begins to preach the same troublesome message. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near”.
That’s the backdrop to the calling of his first disciples, Simon and Andrew, James and John. They aren’t just called away from their settled lives to the hardships of a travelling ministry. They aren’t just called away from their families and their private, self-contained lives. They are called into a battle with some mighty and very dangerous opponents.
The safest thing, if you live under an oppressive system, is to keep your head down and hope no one notices you. But they decide to take up the company of someone who is very deliberately challenging that system. The danger to Jesus and to his followers couldn’t be clearer. When they rise up and follow Jesus they are embarking on a path which will lead many of them, like Jesus, to suffering and to death.
So whatever made them do it? Why did they leave their comfortable lives and head off into the unknown? What did they see in Jesus, in the split second he called them, that convinced them that he was worth following? And what did he see in them?
Let’s think about the first of those questions first. What did they see in Jesus? Matthew doesn’t give us many, but maybe the message itself can tell us. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” It doesn’t sound like a very appealing message. We don’t tend to like the idea of repentance these days - sackcloth and ashes are out of fashion. But the real meaning of the Greek word Matthew uses is “change your mind”. It’s not about making yourself miserable, but about allowing yourself to be transformed, understanding yourself and the world around you differently.
We might be used to looking at the world with cynicism and despair. “Change your mind,” says Jesus, “learn to see the hope God has for you.” That’s repentance. Or we might feel that our lives are pointless, that we are just on an endless treadmill. “Change your mind” says Jesus, “you matter, your life has a purpose, God is at work in you”. That’s repentance too. Or we might look at the forces, political, personal, ranged against us and think, “what chance have I got against all that”. “Change your mind,” says Jesus, “God’s light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. “ That’s what repentance looks like in practice. It’s not about despair or misery; it’s about hope.
If that’s the case, no wonder these fishermen leapt up and followed Jesus. Things could be different. Things were going to be different. “The kingdom of heaven has come near” he said to them. “God is here. He’s at work in the world, at work in you, if only you open your eyes to see it.” They had lived their whole lives in the darkness of oppression and injustice, but now the light had dawned. Of course, they wanted to know more. Of course, they wanted to follow.
But if that’s what they see in Jesus, what is it that he sees in them? Why does he call these ordinary fishermen to be his followers? Again, Matthew doesn’t tell us, but I think that’s the point. It’s not who these people are that matters but who they aren’t. They aren’t superstars. They aren’t particularly rich or well-educated. They aren’t even necessarily good or religious people. In Matthew’s version of this story, they seem to be simply the first people Jesus comes across. God doesn’t just call extraordinary people, Matthew is telling us, people with gifts and talents that single them out from the crowd. He doesn’t just call those who are especially intelligent, resourceful, strong or brave. He calls everyone.
If God could work through the random bunch of people we find following him in the Gospels - people who get it wrong as often as they get it right - he can surely work through us too. For most of us, thank God, that calling won’t involve martyrdom, but all of us are called to do something – or maybe a succession of somethings during our lives – which will make a difference in the world in some way or other, to work with God in creating his Kingdom where we are, in our workplaces and neighbourhoods. We create that kingdom as we stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves, as we love those others have no time for, as we learn to react with mercy and forgiveness, not fear and hatred, to those who hurt us. This is a ministry we’re all called to. There are no exceptions. There is no one too young, or too old, no one too insignificant, and no one too important either, to be called by God to do this work.
All we need to do to begin is to change our minds, to learn to see ourselves and one another as God sees us, full of promise, full of hope, chosen and called. “Repent – change your mind – for the kingdom of God has come near.”
Amen
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