Sunday 25 January 2026
Something in the gospel today caught my attention. It wasn’t James and John abandoning their nets to follow Jesus, as remarkable as that was. It was who they left behind. Not a net full of fish. But Zebedee. Their father.
Zebedee is a great name, and when watching the magic roundabout as a kind I had no idea it wasn’t just made up by wacky writers. No, it was taken from the gospels, father of the first two of Christ’s disciples.
So what was going through his mind as his two boys went off with this charismatic figure?
I imagine first off he had to stop the nets from tumbling back over board (this is how I imagine the situation on the boat). Did he even have time to look over his shoulder to see them leaving?
After that, I imagine he had to steady the boat, which by now might have drifted all over the place. Although assuming James and John were able to wade ashore to follow Jesus, perhaps the depth of the water wasn’t too big a deal.
But after all of that, did he protest that his sons were leaving? Was there an unrecorded dialogue between them before they left? A short exchange that surely must have involved both father and sons aware of just how significant this moment might be? Because if Jesus had held such sway over the two young men, it cannot have escaped their Dad.
And what would he have felt then? Seeing them leave. I know I’d be a mess. Although perhaps not if it was Jesus my boy had attached himself to.
And it was only right that it would be young men called by Jesus, and not the likes of older Zebedee. Young men take on the battles, the missions, and have the strength to fae what would inevitable come their way. Parents take a back seat, or look after the fishing boat, and pray for their well being.
And so I felt a bit for Zebedee. Never again mentioned, but in a way contributing more than most to the gospels, his two sons. James destined to be the first Apostle to by martyred, and John, to be close to Jesus right up to his Passion and death.
Zebedee does have a feast day though. I’ll make a point to remember him on 15 March.