Make hay while the sun shines—that’s smart; go fishing during harvest—that’s stupid.

The River Nile will dry up, the riverbed baked dry in the sun. The canals will become stagnant and stink, every stream touching the Nile dry up. River vegetation will rot away the banks of the Nile-baked clay, The riverbed hard and smooth, river grasses dried up and gone with the wind. Fishermen will complain that the fishing’s been ruined. Textile workers will be out of work, all weavers and workers in linen and cotton and wool Dispirited, depressed in their forced idleness— everyone who works for a living, jobless.

“Now, watch for what comes next: I’m going to assemble a bunch of fishermen.” God’s Decree! “They’ll go fishing for my people and pull them in for judgment. Then I’ll send out a party of hunters, and they’ll hunt them out in all the mountains, hills, and caves. I’m watching their every move. I haven’t lost track of a single one of them, neither them nor their sins.

You’re treating men and women as so many fish in the ocean, Swimming without direction, swimming but not getting anywhere. Then this evil Babylonian arrives and goes fishing. He pulls in a good catch. He catches his limit and fills his bucket— a good day of fishing! He’s happy! He praises his rod and reel, piles his fishing gear on an altar and worships it! It’s made his day, and he’s going to eat well tonight! * * *