Luke 5:1-11
November 15, 2020
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
The story begins with exhaustion and frustration. Simon, James and John are cleaning their nets after a long, unsuccessful night of fishing. They are weary. They are discouraged. They are worried. With no fish, how will they feed their families? How will they pay off their debt? I imagine their sagging shoulders, the look of defeat in their eyes, the absence of their usual playful banter as they force themselves to wash nets that did not serve them well.
As the day dawns, crowds invade the beach, drawn there by a man who dares to proclaim hope in the midst of despair. As the multitude pushes Jesus closer and closer to the water, he hops into Simon’s fishing boat. “Could you row me out aways so I can talk to the crowd?”
Simon has had a bad night. He is worn out, on the verge of despair. Still he stops what he is doing to help this stranger. Why? Maybe his curiosity is piqued. Maybe his instinct to be kind kicks in. Whatever the motivation, his simple act of generosity sets in motion a series of events that will change his life.
We don’t know what Jesus says to the crowd. Surely something about the kin-dom of God breaking in; maybe something about the power of love to turn the world upside down; or about how God treasures people the world dismisses as unimportant. Whatever he says, Simon is listening.
When the sermon is over, Jesus turns to Simon with a second strange request: “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon’s exhaustion and frustration come through in his initial response: “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” Then something—maybe the words he just heard Jesus preach– breaks through his funk. “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.”
Simon is accustomed to the vicissitudes of the Lake of Gennesaret, also known as the Sea of Galilee. He knows all about the storms that come up without warning. He knows first-hand the danger of going out into the deep water, for he takes that risk every night to feed his family. His life is already risky enough; why does he go out into the depths for a second time in a single day, when he knows there are no fish? Something he heard from Jesus gives him hope—and courage to act on that hope.
When the nets begin to fill, Simon doesn’t know what to think. He does know what to do: he calls his friends to help. James and John come with their boat; the fish keep leaping into the nets, until the vessels almost sink from their weight.
Suddenly this story is no longer about one person’s calling; it is about a community called together. It is about a community that risks going into the deep water with Jesus. When they take that risk, they are overwhelmed with abundance.
This story resonates with our experience as a church in these complicated times. We certainly know the feeling of exhaustion. We are worn out from too much zoom, too much bad news, too many lies. We know the discouragement that borders on despair, as we watch COVID numbers soar, as we rage at the persistence of racism, as we witness the danger to our democracy. We understand their anxiety about their families, their well-being, their future.
Like those struggling fishermen, we also know the power of simple acts of generosity. Even when we are at our most exhausted, our most discouraged, something prompts us to say yes to the stranger who asks to use our boat. When we are stuck at home, we check in with our neighbors who live alone. We make masks to go into water bottles for people who have no homes. Back in March, the Board of Wider Mission gave emergency grants to address the explosion of need for food pantries and meal programs. As we find ways to offer kindness and generosity, we experience a shift: a surge of energy in the midst of fatigue, a glimmer of hope breaking through the fog of despair, courage to face our fears.
Simple acts of kindness are powerful, and they are only the beginning. They set the stage for what comes next in the biblical story and in our story: Jesus’ challenge to go out into the deep water, into the unknown, the place of danger. We hear Jesus’ call to risk deep water as we acknowledge the complexity and horror of racism in our nation and our world, as we learn histories we were never taught, as we look within and struggle to become anti-racist. We hear Jesus’ challenge to face the intensity of the divide in our nation, to figure out what it means to listen to our neighbors, especially the ones with whom we disagree vehemently. Sometimes with trepidation, sometimes with determination, we put out into deep waters. Knowing the risk, we choose to reach out beyond ourselves instead of withdrawing in fear.
Out there, our here, in the deep water, we share the fishermen’s experience of abundance. I think of our congregation’s generous response to our springtime request for gifts to the Diaconate Fund. I think of the new music that keeps emerging, the multiplying expressions of gratitude for our worship and our Zoom programming. Then there is the explosion of cookies that appeared on our doorstep yesterday, to include in our Veterans Appreciation meals. Far more than our original goal of 400. Look at my altar scape—like fish overflowing the boats, cookies overflow our baskets.
The biblical story does not promise that when we follow Jesus we will suddenly become rich and successful—with our boats full of fish or our bank account surging or our fame spreading. It does promise that when we risk following Jesus into the deep water, when we call our friends to join us, when we let go of our fear and refuse to be trapped by a culture of despair, we will be blessed with abundance. What form that abundance will take is always a mystery: it might be cookies; it might be music; it might be hope. Abundance is a quality of openness—open hands and open hearts that enable an ever-expanding circle of giving and receiving. Abundance is having enough to share, or maybe it is choosing to share even when we struggle to trust there will be enough.
The story doesn’t end with the fishermen out in the deep waters marveling at the abundance of fish. After he tells them not to be afraid, Jesus calls his new friends to a larger purpose. “It is no longer about fish to feed your families,” he says. “Now it is about people—God’s beloved—who need hope.” Just like that, Simon, James and John leave their boats to follow Jesus.
What’s next in our story here at Edwards Church? The abundance of cookies on the communion table is not the end. Jesus calls us to keep broadening our vision, to keep asking how we can share abundance and hope ever more widely.
Jesus does not call us to abandon this sailing vessel. Instead he calls us to shore it up so we can withstand the storm. He helps us strengthen and care for our crew so we can work together. He works with us to build life boats so we can reach out to friends and strangers in distress.
Jesus calls us to follow his way, to be guided by the light of his teachings and his example. He challenges us to resist the neon glow of easy answers and surface comforts; instead, he says, look within to claim the spark of faith, look above to find and follow the star of hope.
In our gospel reading, a simple act of generosity prepares the way for risking deep water, which leads to abundance that inspires a decision to follow Jesus. The process is a spiral of ever-deepening discipleship. Every faithful act—a simple expression of generosity, a risk we take, a celebration of abundance, a choice to try to follow—moves us deeper into discipleship.
Next Sunday, we will dedicate our pledges for how we intend to support Edwards Church in 2021. Your pledge is part of this spiral of discipleship. Perhaps you understand it as a simple act of generosity. Maybe your pledge is your way of taking a risk to enter the deep waters, or your response of gratitude for the abundance you experience when you do. Maybe it is an expression of your choice to let go of whatever holds you back in order to follow in the way of Jesus.
Wherever your pledge enters this spiral of discipleship, trust that it will lead you deeper. Trust that your generosity, your risk-taking and your faithfulness will strengthen this ship, so we can sail with the Spirit, so we can withstand the storm, so we can be a source of healing, hope and justice for our world. Amen.