A homily for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 25, 2026
Isaiah 8:23—9:3, 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, 17, Matthew 4:12-23
For many of us, a change in our work situation happens because of one of two scenarios. Either we seek a new job, a new boss, a new location, or any combination of those, or the change is imposed on us by outside forces like the company closing or downsizing or relocating.
Résumé and interviews vs. pink slip or transfer papers.
Something we sought vs. ol’ Damocles and his stupid sword.
And when we’re doing the driving, we try to remember that we want to head to something better and not just pry ourselves out of something horrendous … though the reality always falls somewhere in between.
That’s why every time we change, no matter how diligently we prepare, we take a leap of faith.
We leap into the unknown. Even after reading up on XYZ Inc. or watching every recruiting video and news report, even after asking everyone we know and complete strangers we accost on the street about ABC, we leap into something we’ve not experienced ourselves. Not yet, anyway. Not precisely this situation at this time in history and at this time in our lives.
We leap into a whole new cohort. We leap into whole new responsibilities, even if what we expect to be doing is supposed to be similar to what we have done for years. Every outfit does the job their way.
Is our higher-up a leader or a boss? A broad-brush or a micromanager?
Are we in over our heads? Will we be bored and lose our skills?
Is this job going to be what was advertised, or was that all baloney to trick us into saying yes?
Was this the right move after all?
In 21st-century Western Civilization, we have a lot of information at our fingertips, data that can provide a safety net when we leap.
Those first-century fishermen? All they had were their gut instincts and, probably, the Holy Spirit.
“Hey, dudes, drop everything and follow me, and I’ll turn you into something nobody’s ever heard of.”
“OK, sure, odd-looking stranger who just moseyed by. Sounds good. We’ll ditch our dad and our family businesses and stare at the back of your head for a while. We won’t even ask what this fishers-of-men job pays.”
Talk about no safety net.
Now, to be sure, fishing for tilapia in the Sea of Galilee in 30 A.D. could be a struggle, but Scripture tells us it was a steady living. Simon and Andrew were used to the calluses and the sore muscles and the occasional cuts and bruises. There’s nothing in The Word suggesting they had any desire to run away from their careers.
So for them — and for us — to follow Jesus and bring other people along, this leap of faith turned out to be a leap toward something. Toward something better. Toward the best.
Simon and Andrew and the rest of the Twelve and the hundreds immediately beyond them had little idea what lay before them. Their travel, their work, their successes, their persecution and their martyrdoms were big unknowns.
And yet this Jesus guy … there was something about him that they’d never seen before. No one had ever spoken like him. No one was as clear-eyed. No one was as confident while being humble. No one had ever cared as much for every man, woman or child as this Nazarean. And, really: Women? Children? Lepers? The blind or the lame? Sinners?
Only righteous men mattered. Everybody knew that.
Except…
Yeah, following him was going to be a big leap. Following him was going to be the adventure of a lifetime. Following him was going to change the world.
Yeah.
Faith.
Taking the leap.
We are blessed to have 2,000 years of world history and church history and New Testament Scripture to help guide our leaps of faith. We know that Christ’s motley crew had seismic impacts on empires and kingdoms and magi and villagers alike. We know that their literal and spiritual heirs shaped society and kept Christ’s Light burning brightly for everyone to follow.
For everyone in generations yet to be born.
And that’s where we come in.
Just as if we were on the banks of the Sea of Galilee, we are called to gather and serve God’s flock. To comfort and heal and instruct, to feed and clothe and shelter, to sometimes lead but always walk beside.
Each of us has the tools to do what we can in the best way we can. Each of us knows what that is.
And we all do have a safety net. because with God’s help, anything is possible. With God’s grace. With our faith in God.
God is calling us to leap.
