I Kings 19:9-18; Psalm 85:8-13; Romans 10:5-15; Matthew 14:22-33
I once saw a cartoon in which there were two men, dressed in the flowing garb of the biblical world watching from shore as a third man walked on water. One of the two on shore was saying to the other, “You just have to know where the rocks are.”
There have been many attempts to explain what happens in the Gospel story we hear this morning. I think that”s not possible.
“He thinks he walks on water,” is one way of conveying the thought that someone is pompous, has a higher opinion of self than others have of that person. On the other hand, “He thinks you walk on water,” is one way of passing along a compliment. Similar to, for example, “He thinks you hung the moon.”
No human being can walk on water or, for that matter, hang the moon. In the Judao-Christian tradition mastery of the water or the moon is a divine attribute.
When Peter and Jesus climb into the boat and the wind ceases, the disciples are ready to worship Jesus and to recite with one voice the following creed. “Truly, you are the Son of God.” His mastery over the sea, the wind and the rain marks him divine for them.
But you and I don’t need to be told that. Matthew’s community didn’t need to be told that. It’s interesting to hear how the first disciples grew into their convictions about Jesus. But I want more from this scripture than “interesting,” so let’s chase the more.
I think this is a story about the power of chaos symbolized by the raging water. The power of chaos to evoke fear and panic, paralyzing fear and panic in us all. I think this is a story about every man and woman and child, at least potentially, and about God’s presence to us when we face being overwhelmed. And we all do face from time to time being overwhelmed.
Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire,
where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying;
my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim.
—Psalm 69: 1-3
The psalmist knows being overwhelmed. This is only one of many examples of that.
Many of our hymns speak to being overwhelmed and to God being there in the chaos:
Thou whose almighty word
chaos and darkness heard,
and took their flight…
we will sing next week as the service begins.
When through the deep waters
I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe
shall not thee overflow
For I will be with thee
thy troubles to bless
And sanctify to thee
thy deepest distress.
So goes one stanza of the 18th century hymn, “How Firm a Foundation.”
And here’s another, a favorite:
Through the rain, through the night
lead me on to the light
precious Lord, take my hand,
lead me on.
We frequently sing about being overwhelmed and about God’s presence to us even as we are.
Some time ago I was given a card case, business card case, on which is engraved the following observation attributed to Carl Jung, “Bidden or not, God is present.”
I am strengthened in my faith by the Jesus of whom I read in today’s Gospel. Finally, he has that solitude he has been seeking in which to be with God in prayer. He has recently heard of the death of John the Baptist. His friend, John. Hoping to withdraw in his grief to a deserted place, he has been pursued by crowds of people. Putting aside his own desire to be alone, he has compassion on them and ministers among them. Now, he has dismissed the crowds and sent his disciples on ahead of him in a boat—perhaps the very boat he took to reach a deserted place. He has withdrawn to be with God in prayer. But the boat in which the disciples huddle is battered, literally translated, “tormented,” by the waves, and he comes out of his prayer to come to them.
Never mind that they don’t recognize him in their panic. Never mind that Peter acts out the way Peter often does. Jesus comes to them. Is there for them. Is there with them, and the wind ceases.
In a worshiping community in the name of Jesus we can incarnate the presence of Jesus to one another in times of chaos and darkness, when someone is tormented by the waves that break over them and threaten to overwhelm.
We can be that presence to one another because we know that he is present to us, bidden or not God in Jesus Christ is present no matter what. My deep conviction, one some of you may be tired of hearing from my lips, is that God does not save from the storm. The storm will come. And when it is over another will be on the way. Especially for those who follow God. There is trouble ahead when we follow God. But there is also God, God saving in the storm, not from it. That’s what happens here. That’s the message for us in this gospel story.
One further note. Jesus says here, “You of little faith. Why did you doubt?” Many people think of his words as a rebuke. But I don’t. A wonderful man named Doug Hare, who taught New Testament studies at the seminary from which I graduated—unfortunately I never took a course from him—though I enjoyed community with him—Doug pointed out, “[That] expression is always used by Matthew with respect to believers, never of unbelievers…” I hear his tone of voice as he says it. It is loving. And the answer to the question is one that we hear in another place in Scripture. “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.”
In the storms that come at us; in the storms that come from within us, “Bidden or unbidden, God is present” to us. Amen.
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