In Jesus’ day, the Sea of Galilee was a stormy place to sail
anyway. It is actually a lot like sailing across the Great Lakes of North
America. Water behaves differently on big inland fresh water lakes than they do
on open oceans. The least bit of wind can create quite a tempest. So, when the disciples were going across the
water it was very rough going very quickly and they were stuck in the middle
all night long, trying to make headway against a storm with an itty-bitty sail
and oars.
The early church remembered Jesus’ miracle because they
could identify with it immediately. Not because they were sailors or fishermen,
but because the new, young church was like, to quote the prayer of St. Brendanthe Navigator, being in a very small boat on a big sea in the middle of a
storm. So, in the Gospel of Matthew (as
in Mark, whose outline Matthew follows) going across the water means “going to
the other side” from a safe familiar place to a new, foreign or unknown place
of mission—by definition a risky and stormy trip.
Matthew is telling the story of what Jesus because the young
church knew that they were sailing through a storm.
Around here, we know about storms. Not far from my house,
there’s a sign on the road to the airport that is on a pole 15 feet high. It
says that the storm surge from the bay will reach or cover that sign.
Many of us in these parts listen closely to the weather in
hurricane season, put together a storm box in case the power goes out, know our
flood zone by heart, and keep “go bags” at the ready in case we are told to bug
out. Mostly, we deal with them as best
we can. We try to keep the water out and, if necessary, try to stay afloat,
even if we don’t always make headway.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus walks across the water and through a
storm to meet the disciples. Some paintings I have seen of this shows a serene
Jesus walking across the water as peacefully as a stroll down a lane on a
summer day. But I think that when Jesus walked across the water, he got very wet,
and he probably looked like three miles of bad road when he finally did climb
into the boat. The storm was all around him and the wind was still wailing. The
powers of the storm and the wind and sea tried to overwhelm him but could not.
He walked through the storm, not immune from its effects and fully immersed in
its reality. The miracle is that he was not overpowered by it.
He would do that again on the cross. He would face
everything evil and sin has to offer, including death. He would die a true and
real death on the cross, just as he faced a true and real storm on the sea that
day, and he would rise from the dead. In walking across the lake in the storm,
he demonstrates not only his power but he also that the storm is real. The
storm does not deter or stop him.
As he comes to the boat, the disciples see him and are
afraid because they don’t know what to make of what they are seeing. But Jesus
says to them the same thing he said on that third day in the upper room on that
very first Easter: “Do not be afraid!”
Jesus comes and he brings peace, but the storm doesn’t stop.
Not right away. Which leads us to the
rest of the story:
Oh, Peter. Poor old Peter!
We tend to give Peter short shrift because Jesus’ words to
him after he is rescued sound to our ears like a rebuke: “You of little faith,
why did you doubt?” We hear the words “little faith” and think “no faith.” We
humans are very binary, very “1” or “0” about almost everything. We expect
ourselves to either have the kind of faith to move mountains and accomplish the
impossible, or to have no faith at all. The truth is that we are all somewhere
in between. We are all people of “little faith.” Martin Luther said that we are simultaneously
saints and sinners. Which is why we
identify so much with Peter, because he is a lot like us: a lion of the faith
with a heart of gold who is at the very same dense, afraid, and reactive.
The disciples are not spiritual klutzes who can’t shoot
straight. They are faithful people on a difficult journey, and Jesus meets them
in the midst of storms.
We forget that Peter did in fact do what Jesus did. He walked on the water! Until, well, he didn't. Still, I'll bet he walked farther than I would have, that's for sure!
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| St. Brendan the Navigator |
Being a Christian is all about imitating Christ, and Peter wants to be like Jesus and do what Jesus does. He asks Jesus to call him and he answers the call. Only the storm is real, and as Peter moves into the storm, he says “uh-oh!” But even as he is sinking, even as he feels overwhelmed, Peter still calls out to Jesus. And Jesus helps Peter and brings him back to the boat. Safely aboard the boat, still beset by the storm, Jesus stills the storm.
How many of us have done exactly the same thing? Who among us
has never bitten off more than that we can chew spiritually?
Every summer for about thirty years, I go to Icon Camp, where I gather with other artists, most of us amateurs to paint an icon—an ancient Eastern Christian form of religious art found in Russian and Greek churches. We take a week to gather at a monastery where we paint, pray, eat, kibbitz, and then paint some more.
And no matter what, Jesus calls us, watches us, and rescues
us.
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