It was very dull work for Peter and his companions to drag the lake all night and pull in their empty net every time. But what commotion there was, and what a quickening of interest, when, at the command of the Master they tried just once more, and this time drew in a net so filled that it was near to breaking!
No doubt, if the modern fisher of men was favored with a miraculous draught of fishes, his zeal too would pulsate with new energy. A priest who has to elbow his way into the pulpit through a dense crowd may well feel that this is a glorious chance of stirring to the depths the souls of his hearers. And we are not for a moment denying that it is. But there is a natural incentive and his motives, unless he be on his guard, may easily enough be merely natural too: the desire to acquit himself well, to win the praise of men, to delight in seeing the influence he can wield over that multitude which listens spellbound.
It is true that St. Francis Xavier wrote home and told about his miraculous draughts, describing his state of exhaustion, telling St. Ignatius that he had baptized so many that day that his arm was weary and he could scarcely hold the pen. He traveled thousands of miles and, as in the case of his divine Master, "the whole country was stirred."
Excellent all this, of course. But there is a thrill and excitement about the apostolate to the multitudes which is entirely absent - at least in most cases - when there is question of helping an individual soul. When the preacher steps down from his pulpit, where he has, it may be, covered himself with glory, and crosses over to his confessional, he now embarks on the apostolate to the individual. It can often be an exacting task; it is devoid of all glamour and, for that reason, is often a more searching test of zeal than work which focuses the spotlight on the worker.
The fact is that most apostles are intended to catch their fish, not with the net, but with the line and hook and rod. In the eyes of the Church, every single individual is of immense importance, because every person, saint or sinner, has an immortal soul redeemed by Christ. In the Spartan state the individual counted for little "every man a brick" was the slogan. In the modern Communist states the individual is similarly degraded: he is a mere cog in the machine, a mere tool to be used for the good of the state. But the Church of God, like her divine Founder, looks with love and interest on every single son and daughter of Adam, and the true apostle does the same.
St. Ignatius was once giving much time and incurring much expense in an effort to found a home for fallen women. Some wiseacre wiseacres always abound at such moments - pointed out to the saint that he was wasting his time and his money. These poor women would never make good. They might come to his home for a brief spell but every one of them would certainly return again to her trade. And the answer?
"If I succeed in keeping one of them off the streets for one single night, even with the certain knowledge that she will go back the next night, I consider all my time and expense well rewarded."
Never let the apostle, therefore, sit at home twirling his thumbs and waiting for some big opportunity to turn up. It is a mistake to expect miraculous draughts, though they will be welcome, certainly, if the Lord gives them. But meantime? Meantime let the apostle lay aside his net and fix on a tempting bait to the end of his line, and let him sally forth into his daily life - in home or school or club - and see if he cannot influence individuals. There is the man who sits beside me at lunch each day; there are the individuals who compose my family; there is the boy who delivers the paper each morning, the messenger who comes at noon with the groceries, the man who drops in to repair the radio, the bus conductor, the unexpected visitor. Every one of these has a soul for which Christ died. Do I ever think of that? Do I at least exercise myself in praying for these?
Jesus, give me the patience that will be zealous in working for individual souls. How little soever be my talents and opportunities to do more spectacular work, I see, here in my place of prayer, that, if I love You indeed, my ordinary day abounds in occasions where I can further Your work. Many of these chances I have lost; I would try to make good my past losses by my alertness in the future.