I snapped, “Men do not go home empty-handed. I swear, if you keep scaring the fish away, you'll be more than tired.”

We sat quietly as the sun arose behind clouds. In the dim light, I could see the shape of Capernaum but nothing more than gray on black. The winds picked up and I could begin to make out the fish racks and ships overturned on the rocks for repairs. I was angrier than I could have expressed in words. I had prayed all the night. Yet, I would surely go home without a catch. I would be known as the fisherman who could not catch fish. I would be known as a man whose word meant nothing. I imagined myself working in the fields to the south. The sun was up and our nets came back empty. I drove my fist into the mast.

“Damn,” I shouted. “Damn. Damn.”

My crew made not a noise, seeking to avoid my wrath. Zacharias and his crew were near. He hailed me. “Simon. We are headed back. We are empty because of our sins. Go home and pray, my friend.”

I called back, “God be with you.”

I leaned against the mast and nursed my sore fist. I watched a man walk across the beach and said to no one in particular, “Take us in.”

Then I heard my name being called, “Simon. Simon.”

Andrew leaned across the bow and said excitedly, “It's Jesus.” James and John went to look by Andrew's side.

We were, perhaps, only fifty cubits from shore and John exclaimed, “It's the Lord.”

I called, “Greetings, Rabbi. What has you up so early?”

He answered, “I go where I'm needed. I've come to help.”

I was tying my coat around my waist, and I had to laugh. I said to the Rabbi, “I have worked all night and failed. Your feet are not wet and you're going to help? Are you a fisherman now?”

Jesus called from the shore, “I have prayed for you, Simon. Cast your net to the right and you will have a catch.”

Before I could act, John and James moved to the ends of the net. I reached down and pulled back the center. The boys waited for my mark, eyes fast on me. “On your word, Rabbi,” I answered. Then, I called, “Throw!”

The net sailed out through the air as it had all night. It landed across the water as it had a hundred times before. It disappeared below the surface; James and John began the slow pull back. It was then that I felt the ship lurch, and I fell against the mast. We jumped to the net, Andrew and I with James, Levi and Matthew with John. Our ship was being pulled to shore and it was all we could do to tie off the net. I jumped into the water to right the ship. Matthew and Levi jumped in also. We pulled the ship slowly through the shallows while James and John methodically worked the net. My feet slipped on the rocks and my shoulder rubbed painfully against the rough wood. Levi came to my side to take my place.

“We have it,” he said.

I was happy enough to let my crew finish the work. I staggered to the beach winded and fell to my knees. The Rabbi came and knelt before me with an easy smile. I tried to still my breathing. I looked into the Rabbi's face, a man in his thirties. His arms rested across his knees. I fell over and sat, looking back to the ship, hearing the excited remarks of my crew as they spoke among themselves. The morning breeze chilled my wet skin while neighbors came to see what the commotion was about. I looked back at the Rabbi.

Taking a breath, I asked him to help me to my feet. His grip was strong. He had no problem with my weight. I said, “Your hands are rough but they are not a fisherman's hands. Still, it took a Rabbi to show me how to catch fish.”

He answered, “If you like, I will show you how to catch men.”

I had to excuse myself to help my crew. We had more than enough to meet the commitments I had made. There was enough good fortune to share with Zacharias. None of us worried about the need for sleep; there was too much work to do. The sons of Zebedee sang hymns as they worked side by side. Our neighbors stood by. Some congratulated us while others helped. There was joy in the rising of the sun. The women hurried to bring us bread and drink as the city came to life. Yet even as I worked, the words of the new Rabbi repeated in my thoughts. To fish for men was a strange idea. I wondered what the Rabbi meant.

Our work was done before the day of preparation. I sat at home as my wife worked to bear the burden she shared with my mother who lay sick in her bed. My wife's determination moved me. I offered to help. She sent me to my mother with a pitcher of cool water. Mother's room seemed small and dark. Her breathing was labored. The healers had been useless. I opened the shutters to let in the morning sun and the air was fresh. I sat by her bed on a stool and poured water.

“Mother,” I whispered, leaning close, “will you sit and drink?”

She opened her eyes and looked at me. I placed my hand on her head and was worried she still had a fever. I feared for her but there was nothing any of us could do but pray. She closed her eyes and I wet a rag for her head. She wheezed as she breathed. I stood and looked out the window. The sky was blue and the light brought cheer as if creation was unaware of my poor mother's suffering. I could see up the street; Andrew and Jesus walked in conversation as they headed to my home. I turned and looked at my mother again. I had placed too much hope in the healers. I had spent my wealth without remedy. I really hated healers.