Fishing has been around forever. Ever since people got hungry and lived by water, they went fishing.

The Gospels talk about fishing a lot. It wasn’t the “rod and reel” style that we commonly associate with fishing today, nor was it the sportiness of expensive bass boats with competitions shown live on TV but people still went fishing.

Fishing, past and present, means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. It means food. It means money. It means competition. It means relaxation. It means drinking, I guess. It means gathering new material for storytelling.

Not everyone likes or wants to go fishing. Some people can’t get enough of it.

Even without the pole and net, a fish has been a symbol of early Christianity, a popular pet among young children, and a reason for people to get together on a Friday night in Wisconsin.

Try as some might, no one can escape the mighty fish.

What I’ve learned

I grew up near Lake Michigan, at least two rivers, and fewer than 10,000 lakes. Of course, I went fishing.

It’s hard not to.

By default of living there, these things happen and you could probably find yourself accidentally fishing without even realizing it.

I don’t mind being honest and admitting that I’ve never been very good at it.

In my younger years, I once caught a large carp that probably could have taken my fish pole, me, and half of the dry land I was standing on with them if they really wanted to, but they got lazy and let me reel them in any way.

One of my more recent fishing experiences, over in in-law land, saw me scoffing at the minute-ness of a sunfish I caught, thinking I could do so much better than that, and proceeding to have the newer fish get smaller, and smaller, and smaller until they began to be confused for bait.

Fishing is the ultimate activity in which one can do nothing but be a complete success at it.

Yes, you can actually “go fishing” and not actually acquire any fish. Things like “going shopping” or “going to the zoo” usually require you to accomplish said thing you are referring to.

During college years, my high school friends and I would “go fishing” a lot. However, the only thing we brought back in a bucket was chicken that we picked up on the way back home. I think one of us caught a fish once when someone accidentally had their line in the water and was paying no attention to it. The fish probably died of boredom and the river current pushed him (or her?) onto the hook.

All that being remembered, when I’m seeking to escape life’s stresses, I find myself wishing I could go fishing. It’s probably just a desire to do nothing.

It’s also a chance to get close to some nature. Unless you’re going to one of those tented trout ponds at a fish derby, you have to be at some natural waterway to go fish, even if behind you is an industrial cityscape.

Until and unless you run out of bait, you always keep trying and trying again. Maybe this will be the time I get one. Fishing gives you multiple chances to start over, which is always a great feeling of hope. (Maybe a fish should have been the mascot for the Jubilee Year of Hope.)

It’s an excuse to get a little messy also. Worms are not very clean or hygienic creatures. Neither are most of the fish I don’t catch (so I’ve heard).

It’s a chance to get in touch with some of the first human actions ever other than building a fire — trying to catch a fish.

I’m so glad that my ancestors were better at it than I am.

What you can learn

If you have a desire to go fishing and go ahead with it, it’s also a chance for prayer.

While you’re sitting there doing nothing and “waiting” for the fish to bite (I sometimes use the excuse that the successful fishermen from the past, e.g. my dad’s generation, “caught them all”), you can give thanks to God for nature, creation, and beauty.

You can also be thankful for the time to be away from your everyday stressful situations. Of course, for me, by this point, I’ve usually snagged my line on something and my blood pressure is nearing its normal weekday levels.

If you catch a fish, give thanks for a successful catch. If you plan on eating it, give thanks for that, too.

If you catch it and release it, pray for the person who will catch it later. Maybe it will add some joy to their life.

Take some time to ponder the people in Jesus’ time, especially those who were Apostles or the first Christians. Unite yourselves to something in common with them.

Maybe you won’t be the fisher of men that St. Peter was (or even the fisherman that he was), but you are still called to something.

Maybe God will speak to you while you’re in the boat or on the dock.

Head out to the water this weekend. You’ll probably have time to listen.

Thank you for reading.

I’m praying for you.