The Gospel of today’s Liturgy takes us to the banks of the Sea of Galilee. The crowd is gathering around Jesus, while some disappointed fishermen, among them, Simon Peter, are washing their nets after a night of fishing that had gone badly. And so it is that Jesus climbs into Simon’s boat; then he invites him to go out to sea and cast his nets again (cf. Lk 5:1-4). Let us pause on these two actions of Jesus: first he climbs into the boat and then, the second one, he invites him to put out to sea. It was a night that had gone badly, without fish, but Peter is trusting and puts out to sea.

First of all, Jesus gets into Simon’s boat. To do what? To teach. He asks for that very boat, which is not full of fish but rather has returned to the shore empty, after a night of toil and disillusionment. It is a beautiful image for us too. Every day the boat of our life leaves the shores of our home to sail out into the sea of daily activities; every day we try to “fish in the open sea”, to cultivate dreams, to pursue projects, to experience love in our relationships. But often, like Peter, we experience the “night of empty nets” — the night of empty nets — the disappointment of trying very hard and not seeing the desired results: “We toiled all night and took nothing” (v. 5), says Simon. How often, we too are left with a sense of defeat while disappointment and bitterness arise in our hearts. Two very dangerous seeds.

So what does the Lord do? He chooses to climb into our boat. He wants to proclaim the Gospel from there. It is precisely that empty boat, the symbol of our incapacity, that becomes Jesus’ “cathedra” , the pulpit from which he proclaims the Word. And this is what the Lord loves to do — the Lord is the Lord of surprises, of miracles in surprises — to climb into the boat of our lives when we have nothing to offer him; to enter our emptiness and fill it with his presence; to make use of our poverty to proclaim his richness, of our miseries to proclaim his mercy. Let us remember this: God does not want a cruise ship: a poor “ramshackle” boat is enough for him, as long as we welcome him. This yes, to welcome him; it does not matter on which boat, but to welcome him. But, I wonder, do we let him into the boat of our lives? Do we make available to him the little we have? Sometimes we feel unworthy of him because we are sinners. But this is an excuse that the Lord does not like, because it distances him from us! He is the God of closeness, of compassion, of tenderness, and he does not seek perfectionism: he seeks our welcome. He says to you too: “Let me get into the boat of your life”, “But Lord, look…” — “Like that, let me in, just as it is”. Let us think about this.

In this way, the Lord rebuilds Peter’s trust. When he climbs into the boat, after preaching, he says: “Put out into the deep” (v. 4). It was not a good time of the day for fishing, in broad daylight, but Peter trusts in Jesus. He does not base his trust on the strategies of fishermen, which he knows well, but rather he bases it on the newness of Jesus. That wonder that moved him to do what Jesus told him. It is the same for us too: if we welcome the Lord into our boat, we can put out to sea. With Jesus, we sail the sea of life without fear, without giving in to disappointment when one catches nothing, and without giving up and saying “there is nothing more that can be done”. Always, in personal life as well as in the life of the Church and society, there is something beautiful and courageous that can be done, always. We can always start over — the Lord always invites us to get back on our feet because he opens up new possibilities. So let us accept the invitation: let us chase away pessimism and mistrust, and put out to sea  with Jesus! Our little empty boat, too, will witness a miraculous catch.