August 13th, 2017: 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year
A. Mt. 14:22-33.
AIM: To show that Jesus is always close in times of
peril.
It was not a long voyage across the
lake — five miles at most. The water was calm when Jesus sent his disciples
off. In such conditions, they could row across in two hours at most. Should a
favorable wind come up, they would hoist the sail and reach the other shore in
half that time.
Jesus’ friends were disappointed when
he refused to join them. He insisted, however, that they set off alone. He
would get passage in another boat the next day. Otherwise he would hike round
the lake and join them. Meanwhile Jesus needed to be alone. Following the
miracle of the feeding of the multitude, which we heard about in last Sunday’s
gospel, Jesus needed to spend time in prayer, restoring his spiritual energy as
he waited upon God in stillness through the night.
What began as a routine evening
crossing of the lake soon turns into a nightmare for Jesus’ friends in their
small boat. Still today Galilean fishermen fear the treacherous storms caused
by cold winds blowing off the surrounding hills, creating a sudden tempest in
the warm air covering the low-lying water. The storm which breaks on the
disciples so unexpectedly this evening comes from just the direction in which
they are heading. Against wind so strong, and waves so high, they can make no
headway. But the disciples know they must not allow the boat to be driven back
to the shore they have left. The waves could dash them against the rocks,
smashing their frail craft and everyone in it. Their only hope is to ply the
oars as long as the storm continues, trying to remain a good distance from the
land, in deep water.
This explains why they are still far
from their destination in “the fourth watch of the night.” The night, in those
days, was divided into four equal periods or watches. If there were eight hours
of darkness, each watch would be two hours long. Assuming that they had
embarked before nightfall, they would have been in the boat seven hours at
least. They are exhausted, soaked to the skin, cold, and frightened. Small
wonder, then, that they cry out in fear as they see a human figure approaching
across the wind-whipped waves. It is Jesus. “Take courage,” he calls out. “It
is I; do not be afraid.”
One man in the boat is more impulsive
than his companions. He no sooner recognizes Jesus than he wants to be with
him. He will react in the same way upon recognizing the risen Lord on the shore
after a fruitless night of fishing in the lake.
(Cf. Jn. 21:7) It is Peter.
“Lord,” Peter calls out, “if it is you, command me to come to you on the
water.”
“Come,” Jesus replies.
Peter’s willingness to do the
unthinkable enables him to experience the impossible. He climbs out of the boat
and starts to walk to Jesus across the storm tossed waves. “But when he saw how
strong the wind was,” Matthew tells
us, “he became frightened. And, beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save
me!’”
Jesus had a special role for Peter. He
was to be the leader of Jesus’ friends and thus of the Lord’s Church. This
terrifying experience was part of Peter’s preparation. Years later he would
remember: as long as he had kept his eyes on the Lord, he was safe. When he
looked down, and saw the danger, he began to sink.
Every detail in this story has rich
symbolic significance for Matthew ,
the gospel writer. Like most people in antiquity, Jesus’ people, the Jews,
regarded the sea as the domain of supernatural, demonic forces. To the Hebrew
mind wind and waves were perilous: only God could master them. When Jesus’
people were fleeing from bondage in Egypt ,
they were terrified to find themselves trapped between the advancing army of
their former masters, and the impassable waters of the Sea of Reeds
The boat too is significant. From
biblical times Christians have viewed the Church as a boat, carrying those who
are in it safely through the storms of an often hostile world, like the ark
which kept Noah and his family safe amid the great flood. Fifteen years ago, in
the midst of the media firestorm about the abuse of minors by some priests,
Bishop Wilton Gregory , then bishop
of Belleville and President of the Bishops’ Conference of our country, and now
archbishop of Atlanta, spoke to St. Louis priests about this painful crisis. In
his talk he referred to the story in today’s gospel. We’re in that boat, he
told us. And like the disciples, we’re frightened. But Jesus is with us. He
still has power to still wind and wave.
“Ought we not realize,” he said, “that we have within this Bark of
Peter, which is being so terribly tossed about in the public arena, the source
of calm and peace. We priests and
bishops must be more devoted to our life of prayer as the only reliable source
of courage and hope that will bring peace to our troubled hearts and souls.”
Bishop Gregory ’s words were the
message we needed to hear.
The beautiful story in today’s gospel speaks
also to each one of us individually. Somewhere in this church right now there
is someone facing a personal crisis: an illness, perhaps, your own or that of a
loved one; a family problem; a humiliating failure; the sudden collapse of long
held hopes, plans, and efforts. You are filled with fear. When you look down,
you see only peril and ruin. But look up! Keep your eyes on Jesus. He still has
power to save.
The story assures us that when the
storm rages and the night is blackest; when we cannot see the way ahead; when
we are bone weary with life’s struggle and our hearts fail us for fear, Jesus
is close. He only seems to be absent. In reality he is never far from us. He
knows at every moment the difficulties against which we contend. Across the
storm waters of this world he comes to us and chides us, as he chided Peter: “O
you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
Happy if we today, in this hour, can
respond to the Lord’s saving presence and power as his friends did in that
boat. Happy if we too can bow before him in awe-struck worship and say, with
those first friends of Jesus:
“Truly, you are the Son of God!”
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