Up in the north country a guy decided he wanted to go ice fishing for the first time.  After reading a
few books on the subject, he finally got all the necessary gear together, and he made for the ice.  
He settled in and got comfortable, then he started to make a circular cut in the ice when suddenly,
from the sky,    a voice boomed, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE.."

Startled, the man looked around, and moved further down the ice.  He poured a thermos of coffee,
and began to cut another hole.  Again from the heavens the voice bellowed, "THERE ARE NO FISH
UNDER THE ICE."  The man, now worried, moved away, clear down to the opposite end of the ice.  
He set up his stool once more and tried again to cut a hole. The voice came once again, "THERE
ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."

He stopped, looked skyward, and said, "Is that you, Lord?"  The voice replied, "NO, THIS IS THE
MANAGER OF THE HOCKEY RINK."

Had that been the Lord’s voice the man heard, the message might have been a bit different, as we’ll
see in a few moments.  Last week Deacon Jane brought us a great message about the calling of
Philip and Nathaniel to be followers of Jesus.  In today’s account in Mark’s Gospel we have a
tantalizingly brief description of Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John accepting Jesus’ invitation to
follow him.  This account is much more fleshed out in Luke’s Gospel and in John’s Gospel, both of
which I’ll also be referring to this morning.  In fact, John’s Gospel has a variation of the story in which
Andrew kind of paves the way for his brother, Simon Peter, by inviting him to see this person that
John the Baptist had just baptized.  

If you read the accounts independently they can be a bit confusing, so let’s try to piece this
interesting story together.  Jesus of Nazareth, in Galilee, had just been baptized in
the Jordan by John the Baptist.  A certain young fisherman named Andrew witnessed this newly
baptized rabbi, and heard John the Baptist call him the Lamb of God.  Andrew quickly becomes
persuaded that this man is the Messiah, and goes and tells his brother, Simon Peter about him.  
After Jesus’ period of temptation by Satan in the wilderness, he makes his way down the grassy hills
to the side of the Lake of Galilee, where several fishermen are mending and testing their nets in the
morning sun.  These fishermen are Andrew, Peter, James and John.

As was often the case, there are many people flocking around Jesus and hoping to hear him speak.  
Luke tells us that Jesus uses Peter’s boat as a platform, and begins teaching the people.  After he’s
finished speaking, he tells Peter to set out into the deep water and try his luck with the fish.  Now
here’s where it’s important to give a little word of explanation about fishing in the Lake of Galilee.  
The first thing we should be aware of is that there, the fish come out at night to feed.  During the
daytime they hide under the rocks and are nowhere to be found.  So the most successful fishing
takes place at night.  Second, the best fishing is just slightly offshore, where freshwater streams
feed the lake.  That’s where any good fisherman worth his salt will be investing his effort.

So, here’s this landlubber carpenter/rabbi striding down the hills, using Peter’s boat as a pulpit, then
after a night of lousy fishing, telling the tired fisherman to launch right out into the place that they’re
least likely to catch any fish.  You know the rest of the story—Peter humors him, launches out,
throws the nets, and brings in more fish than his nets can hold.  And the sound of his chin hitting his
chest scares away any fish lucky enough to have escaped his nets.  It’s only after all of this that
Jesus tells Peter that soon he’ll be fishing for people.  And at this point all Peter can do is nod, with
his mouth still hanging open.  The version we get this morning in Mark’s Gospel is kind of the
Reader’s Digest abridged version.

A lot has been written about Peter, of course.  Accounts of his fiery temperament, his propensity (as
Deacon Jane pointed out last week) to insert his size 10 foot into his arguably oversized mouth, his
being the first to recognize Jesus as the Son of God, his denial of Jesus before the Crucifixion, his
leadership in launching the church in Rome, and finally, his courageous martyrdom as he refused to
recant his faith.  Roman Catholics to this day regard him as the first Pope.

So Peter is a very familiar figure to all of us.  But it’s not Peter that I’m going to focus on mainly this
morning.  It’s his brother Andrew, who we know much less about.  And even the fact that we know
less about him says something important to us, I think.  If some of us can relate to Peter’s wild
impulsiveness, fallibility, and simplicity, I think many of us might also relate to Andrew in some ways.  
The fact of the matter is that Andrew was a pretty humble and low-key guy.  He apparently didn’t
have Peter’s flair for the dramatic.

In much of the Gospels Andrew is mentioned in the scriptures only generically as one of the twelve
apostles.  It’s John who seems to give us the most personal view of Andrew, and quietly reveals him
to be a very important figure.  I thought it interesting that the name Andrew in Greek means “manly,”
although this might actually have been a nickname.  I’m guessing he might have been the strong,
silent type—kind of a proto-Gary Cooper.  He and his brother Simon Peter were from a fishing town
at the north end of the Lake of Galilee named Bethsaida, close to the Jordan River.

The great Bible commentator William Barclay sees Andrew as one of the most winsome characters
of the Twelve.  The first thing we can glean about him as that he seemed content to dwell in the
shadow of his more prominent brother.  In fact, Andrew is nearly always referred to in the N.T. as
Simon Peter’s brother. This is probably a familiar phenomenon to siblings of famous people. “Hey,
aren’t you Brad Pitt’s brother?  What was your name again?  Can you get me his autograph?”  Peter
was the one everyone seemed to remember.  He was in that inner circle of Peter, James, and John,
seemingly always in the limelight.  But not so with Andrew.

I think it can be reliably inferred that Andrew was an honestly humble man.  In the world of brawny,
loud fishermen, he seems to have been a quiet, attentive presence who didn’t care all that much
about recognition and “looking out for number one.”  In our own culture, as in that of First Century
Palestine, this doesn’t necessarily earn a person a lot of points.  We tend to give grease to the
squeaky wheel.

And think of the milieu in which Andrew found himself.  There was fiery Peter, but also James and
John, who Jesus nicknamed “the Sons of Thunder.” I’d love to have been privy to some of their early
interactions.  At one point James and John were even lobbying Jesus to seat them at His right and
left side in glory.  But we see none of this from Andrew.  Instead, who we see is an eager young man
perceiving accurately who Jesus is, and bringing others to Him.  

There are only three incidents in the Gospels that bring Andrew to center stage.  The first of these
is in John 1.  Here’s what John writes: “One of the two who heard John the Baptist speak and
followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother.  He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ’
We have found the Messiah’.  He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, You are
Simon son of John.  You are to be called Cephas’ (which is translated Peter).”  Simple as that.  

Andrew is convinced Jesus is the Messiah, and brings his brother to him.  Now this may not seem
especially dramatic, but let’s take a moment to look at this.  Had Jesus not used Andrew, I suppose
he could have used someone else to accomplish the task.  But he chose Andrew.  Can you imagine
how different our world would have been without Peter having been brought to Jesus? The stories
alone stand as archetypes in our culture.  Peter walking on water.  Peter denying Christ. Peter
defending Christ to his death.  And St. Peter at the gates of heaven.  All because his quiet,
perceptive brother tugged at his sleeve and said, “Hey, Simon, come check this out!”   Does this
have something to say to us?  

Let’s look at the next Andrew story.  In John 6 we have that familiar account of the miracle of the
loaves and fishes.  Again, here’s what John writes: “When he looked up and saw a large crowd
coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’  He
said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do.  Philip answered him, ‘Six months
wages wouldn’t buy enough bread for each of them to get even a little.’  One of his disciples,
Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There’s a boy here who has five barley loaves and two
fish.’”  I think you know the rest of the story.    

Again, if this were a play Andrew would be considered a bit part.  He wouldn’t be played by Brad
Pitt.  He wouldn’t even be played by Tom Cruise!  (sorry)  But once again he’s bringing someone to
Jesus—this time some kid who happened to have a little food on him.  And from that seemingly
innocuous encounter we have the only miracle account to be included in all four of the Gospels.  
Does this have something to teach us?

And finally, we have another Andrew story from the Twelfth Chapter of John.  This has to do with
some Greeks who happened to show up in Jerusalem during those intense, final days before Jesus’
Crucifixion.  Some have wondered why this curious little story ended up in John’s Gospel. But I think
it’s interesting to note that the Greeks in Jesus’ time still had a reputation as seekers after truth.  
After all, the Greek nation really was the cradle of Western philosophy.  It was the land of Socrates,
Plato and Aristotle.  Their prosperity enabled them to have the time to devote to studying a wide
variety of philosophies and religions.  And now here’s a little group in Jerusalem for the Passover
Feast, and they seem to have heard of Jesus. They come up to Philip and say simply, “Sir, we wish
to see Jesus.”  Philip kind of scratches his head and goes over and tells Andrew.  Then Philip and
Andrew connect them with the Savior.  

Again, a seemingly trivial event.  But do you know what Jesus’ first words are when he hears of the
interest of this little group of Greeks?  He says, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be
glorified!”  Clearly, this was a pivotal signal for Jesus.  This was the divine thumbs up.  It was the
conductor saying, “Highball Train #3:16, The Salvation Express!”  Because this was evidence of the
fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies
that salvation would one day come to the Gentiles.  And once again, Andrew was the unassuming
workman who drove the Golden Spike connecting the rails on which the Salvation Express would run
from the Jews to the Gentiles.  Archbishop William Temple describes Andrew’s humble work as
“Perhaps as great a service to the Church as ever any man did.”  

Do you ever feel that spreading the good news about Jesus is best left in the hands of someone
more capable than yourself?  Some of us were brought up on the exploits of great evangelists.  
People like St. Paul, or Billy Graham, or even Michael Green.  But I daresay most of us here have
more in common with humble St. Andrew than with these superstars.  And personally I take comfort
in the fact that Jesus can use the most ordinary interactions to accomplish his work of spreading
love, healing and salvation to a hurting world.  So if you’re inclined to doubt your own importance in
God’s kingdom, I urge you to look to the example of St. Andrew, who said simply, “I’ve found the
Messiah!  Come with me.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.
Andrew the Fisherman
Third Sunday after the Epiphany, 2009
January 25, 2009
Fr. Dan Tuton
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