The Deep Waters of Solidarity

On becoming participants in the salvation of the world

The life of faith is not just a life of ethical behavior (though it involved that), but a life lived in God. As such, it starts with an encounter with God, and an invitation to actively participate in the life God shares with us in Jesus, through the Spirit. Luke’s narrative of Jesus calling the first disciples (Luke 5:1-11) is strongly evocative of the call of the prophet Isaiah (Isa 6:1-8), and gives us a paradigmatic picture of what it’s like to be called into a life of faith and discipleship.

Miraculous Draught of Fishes, by John Reilly

It always starts with an epiphany

Jesus has begun his ministry of proclaiming and enacting the good news of the arrival of God’s kingdom: freeing captives, liberating the oppressed, restoring the marginalized, teaching and gathering people into this new way of life. He brings his ministry to the shores of the Lake of Gennesaret and uses one of Simon’s boats to get a little distance from the crowd so he can be heard by the crowds listening to his teaching.

Afterward, instead of saying “Thanks!” and rowing back to shore, Jesus gives Simon a bewildering command: “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” This is really bad fishing advice, and is sure to be a waste of everyone’s time, but Simon tries to be a good sport about it and reluctantly acquiesces. Little does he know that this first decision to trust Jesus will change the course of his life forever.

To everyone’s astonishment, they catch so many fish that the nets begin to break and the boats begin to sink. This is the moment of epiphany for Simon—an unexpected revelation of God’s holiness and presence and power in close proximity to him. This is where the life of faith starts: for Simon and his companions, for Isaiah in the temple (“I saw the Lord sitting on a throne”), and for us. Our faith always starts with God’s initiative. God always makes the first move. God reveals divine presence and power to us, and it’s always a surprise.

The epiphany is always disorienting

The astonishingly massive catch of fish rattles Simon because he senses he is in the presence of some kind of powerful holiness that he doesn’t understand and really shouldn’t be around. He falls to his knees and says “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” I’m the wrong guy for whatever this is—I shouldn’t be here.

The epiphany provokes a fearful reaction in Simon, and in Isaiah (“Woe is me! My lips are unclean!”), and in us. Most of us, most of the time, are mostly aware of our sin, and shame, and shortcomings—all the ways we do not qualify, do not measure up, are not good enough or strong enough or mature enough or healthy enough to participate.

The toxic shame that so many of us live with is perhaps a good modern analogue to Isaiah’s sense of uncleanness, and Simon’s sense of his own sinfulness. We feel a crippling sense of disgust toward ourselves that makes us shrink back from being seen by God and others.

But God moves to meet our need

But, blessedly, in response to Simon’s urge to move away from Jesus in shame, Jesus invites Simon closer with a word of comfort and commission: “Do not be afraid! From now on you will be catching people!”

(By the way, this isn’t as utilitarian or paternalistic or coercive as it sounds. The word in the text translated “catching” isn’t the word used for capturing animals for consumption, like fishing, but rather denotes being rescued alive from the peril of death. So Jesus is using a word that’s adjacent to the world of fishing to invite Simon into a ministry that’s actually not like fishing. It’s essentially a pun, almost a kind of “dad joke,” if you will. I like to imagine Jesus winking and nudging James and John as he says it.)

Jesus is saying that Simon and his companions will be gathering people out of the oppressive system of sin and death into the abundant life of the new community that Jesus is creating. It’s not a ministry of entrapment or coercion, it’s a ministry of liberation from the bondage of sin, oppression, and death.

This is how God responds to Isaiah in his despair over his own uncleanness, and this is how God responds to us when we shrink back from God’s call in shame: to speak a word of comfort, and then invite us right into the heart of the life God shares with and the work God is doing in the world.

God eagerly bridges whatever gaps we sense are separating us from God, taking care of whatever uncleanness needs to be purified, whatever truth needs to be spoken, whatever healing needs to occur, and not only includes us as recipients of grace, but involves us as agents of grace.

Following Jesus into the deep waters of solidarity

This leads to a response of commitment that radicalizes us to participate in God’s life and mission in the world. “They left everything and followed him.” the Gospel says. “Here am I! Send me!” Isaiah says. Leaving behind their old identities, their old economic and social assumptions and habits, everything they thought they knew about how life worked, they follow Jesus into an unknown future.

The same is true for us. By sheer grace, despite our sin and shame and shortcomings, Jesus eagerly includes us in the joyful work of cultivating new life in this broken world. This means we are not spectators or pawns or cogs in a machine, but active participants in the salvation of the world. We respond to this invitation by leaving our old identities and habits behind, and following Jesus into the deep waters of solidarity, giving ourselves over to a life of liberation, for ourselves and others.

Of course, by “leaving behind” our old identities and habits, I don’t mean that we abandon our responsibilities as parents or children or citizens or employees or leaders. What I mean is that we expand the circle of belonging beyond those we are related to by blood, or those we feel comfortable with, to include those on the margins of our society, to those who are systematically excluded from flourishing.

It means we follow Jesus into the deep waters of solidarity, where we recognize that we are all connected to one another. We’re all in the same boat together—my liberation cannot be disconnected from your liberation. None of us are free until all of us are free. This is what our faith is meant to radicalize us into. This is the heart of the gospel, the core of the covenant we are brought into in our baptism. We’ve missed this because the good news has been twisted into an instrument of self-fulfillment, and private, disembodied spirituality, and even oppression.

But the gospel is a radical call into deep solidarity with all, which will necessarily involve us in political and social and relational outworkings of that solidarity. Often it isn’t immediately clear what shape that solidarity ought to take in our lives, but part it involves participating in the habits that cultivate the alternative community Jesus is creating (a.k.a. the church). For me, that involves gathering to hear scripture read and interpreted, to hear the good news proclaimed, to sing and pray together, to commune with one another and receive the gifts of God in the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.

Those ecclesial habits are meant to flow into us becoming what we receive in the Eucharist—the Body of Christ together in mutuality. Part of what it means to be the church is to commit to being one place where deep solidarity is beginning to take root—to keep showing up for each other and with each other in worship, community, and mission together.

It’s normal to feel inadequate to the task, just like Simon, just like Isaiah. It’s normal to hear of injustice and burn with anger and not know what to do with it. It’s normal to feel that it’s too late, or you’re too old, or too young, or that we’re too small, but the truth is that, by sheer grace, and despite our sin and shame and shortcomings, Jesus eagerly includes us in the joyful work of cultivating new life in this broken world. We are not spectators or pawns or cogs in a machine, but active participants in the salvation of the world.

So don’t be afraid to leave your old identities and habits behind, and follow Jesus into the deep waters of solidarity: from now on we give ourselves to a life of liberation. Amen.

(This article is an adaptation of a sermon I gave at The Table Episcopal Church on February 9, 2025, the Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany.)