It begins with a leap.

“Your story starts here and now.   It begins with a leap. Let yourself go.” There is a guy leaping off a cliff, way high over a sparkling blue lake.  “ARIZONA, Grand Canyon State.”

“Your passport to adventure.”  A picture of a Honda Passport SUV. “You only  live once, but you can feel alive every moment. Hop on a new Honda and receive a license to thrill.”

“Life is either a daring adventure, or it is nothing…Helen Keller”.  A photo of a woman pulling another woman up a mountain cliff.  “The professional’s choice for healthcare staffing”.

An image of a space plane. “It’s real, it’s an adventure. It’s Virgin Galactic: Soar to places you wouldn’t believe.”

So what would be your dream of an adventure? Jumping out of an airplane? Going to Disneyworld?  Skiing in Aspen?  Driving cross country with your best friend, your partner, your dog?  If we could make that happen right now, would you go, right now?  If not, why not?

What if someone were to come running in here right now, yelling at the top of his lungs….please, come out here, I need some help?  Would you get out of your seat right now and go running after him? 

“Come after me. I will make you fishers of men.” Plain words spoken on the shores of a lake. Just this: a direct invitation. “Come after me. Let me lead you.”

Those words changed history. And we are here today, in part, because of them—and because of the men who responded. We’re here because fishermen tending their nets listened. Because they dropped everything. And they followed. In time, what they did, the choice they made, transformed the world.

I remember the day I first thought about becoming a Jesuit, and I was sitting in the sunshine on a bench in a courtyard, reading for school, doing my work, and I suddenly had this overwhelming, unexpected feeling of being more loved than I ever felt in my life. It was like a direct hit on my heart, and I didn’t know what to do with it, fireworks going off inside—should I shout for joy, do somersaults on the bricks, take off my clothes and laugh uproariously?  And a priest came out and started to pass by, and something stirred inside, something that had been long smoldering, and I don't know why, but I leapt up off that bench and went running up to the priest, and breathlessly, told him I wanted to be a Jesuit, and I don't know why because I knew very little about Jesuits and up to that moment I didn't have the slightest desire or idea of becoming a priest, and there I was, excited, bubbling over with desire about becoming a Jesuit, whatever that was.   But months and years went by before I ever did commit myself to that, months and years of trying to ignore the message, the invitation to do something so crazy.

Do you remember the last time in your life—other than on the internet--that you were asked to drop everything and follow something or someone on an adventure of love that was crazy and maybe even a little dangerous? When was the last time you were so swept away that you dared risk a lot, maybe everything, leave it all behind—brushing aside the fears that people would call you foolish, impractical, a dreamer, naïve? You’re gonna do what?  Are you crazy?  Yeh, I guess I am! 

I love the image in today's Gospel. Jesus has himself just decided to do something foolish and courageous, he's just begun his ministry, just started on the road that will ultimately lead him to Calvary, and St. Matthew tells us that he stops for a moment beside the road and looks over at Peter and Andrew casting a net into the sea. Just think of that image:  Jesus, standing there, just looking at them. And when they turned to look at him, "Come I will make you fishers of men", some spark inside was ignited, and immediately, instantly, foolishly, courageously, they followed him all the way to Calvary.

Two thousand years later, that invitation is still out there. Christ still calls. To every one of us. Jesus comes to us where we are—whether it’s on the banks of a lake, or an office in Manhattan, or a kitchen in Stuytown or even in a church on 2nd Avenue.

He's standing there right now before each of us, just beyond that little grove of trees. It is dusk, and he stands dark against the grey sky. At the sound of our footsteps, he glances our way.  And for a moment we stand with our eyes lowered, not daring to look up and see his face… and then we look, and instantly, we are on fire, his loving fire, and in his eyes he asks us, plead with us to dare walk a while with him, a lifetime, to walk with him and bring the light and fire of his love into the darkness of the world. Come after me. I will help you do things you never imagined. Come.

What will be our answer? Jesus has sent you an invitation. It’s not spam. He’s waiting. Don’t ignore him. Don’t delete him. Give him a reply. Centuries ago, some fishermen did and it changed everything. 

Your story starts here and now. It begins with a leap. Let yourself go. Shall we join them today?