Homily for 19th Sun OT, Year A
Fr. Albert
St. Peter Catholic Church, New Iberia
“After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and precede him to the other side.” Jesus made the disciples go across the sea without him. And he knew that they would be caught in a terrifying storm. It’s not even the first time he’s let them face the intimidating power of a storm at sea, but at least he was with them last time, even if he was asleep.
Sure, Jesus knows he will come to them later, but the storm starts in the evening, before the sun sets. Jesus doesn’t walk by until the fourth watch of the night, which is after 3 AM. That’s several hours of being tossed about, completely helpless in the boat all because Jesus made them go that way. How is this not cruelty? How can someone with the power to multiply food and to quiet storms knowingly send his closest friends into such a prolonged and harrowing experience? Frankly, we really can’t answer that question, at least, not entirely.
On the surface, the reason Jesus seems to have might appear to be a bit selfish. Just before this scene, Jesus found out about the death of his friend, cousin, and fore-runner John the Baptist. His immediate response was to withdraw by himself to a deserted place, but the crowds wouldn’t let up. They followed him and his shepherd’s heart was moved with pity, so he healed them, he taught them, and he fed them by multiplying the loaves and the fish. Once the crowds were gone, Jesus wanted to be alone, but the disciples were still around. So he says “Go across the sea ahead of me, I want to go up the mountain to be alone and to pray.” Never mind the clouds on the horizon, never mind the 8 or more hours of life-threatening weather ahead of you, I want to be alone, so go.
It seems selfish that the Lord would leave them, and us, hanging so he could pray, yet we cannot forget who he is. Yes, Jesus is God and needs nothing in that regard, but he is also human and so does need to pray. He needs to find solitude and silence to listen to the tiny whispering sound, the still small voice of God his Father. Jesus does not rush into the storm to save the Apostles, but rather enters into prayer and communion with God. How can we expect that it should be any different now? When we see that others are struggling in the storms of their lives, do we rush in blindly? Do we look at poverty and division in society or drama in our families and simply react? Or do we humbly come before God, striving first in prayer and communion with Him? Not an easy, short kind of prayer, but making the arduous effort to ascend the mountain and strive in prayer on their behalf. Only then will we be able to bring anything of value to those troubled souls.
Even so, there is a kind of mysterious power at work in the scene we’ve just heard. The disciples are caught in the chaos of the sea and seem to be under attack by the water upon which they travel. Jesus does not simply appear to them in the boat to quiet the winds. Rather, he walks to them in the midst of the storm. He stands upon the waters in the way that God’s spirit moved upon the waters at the beginning of creation. God does not set aside the difficulties of the disciples’ journey, but comes to them in the midst of it.
Battered by the storm and nearly devoid of all hope, the first man to see Jesus cries out in fear, assuming that only something evil and frightening like a ghost could possibly come from within the storm. Instantly, Jesus Christ calls out “take courage!” Yet, his reason for taking courage is not that the storm is almost over, but a statement of identity. “Take courage” because “I AM.” He uses the divine name of God, a name rich with meaning and mystery. Perhaps they hear it and it reminds them that, yes, God does in fact still exist even in this storm. Or, they are encouraged specifically because it is Jesus, a person they know and love. Either way, with Jesus standing on the raging water and saying the divine name, we ought to acknowledge with awe that Jesus is God.
And it is only in the midst of this storm, after hours of fear and trial that the importance and value of this identity can really hit home. Jesus made the disciples go through this because that is what it takes for proud, stubborn human beings to finally realize just what it means to need a savior. We often want to be saved from our trials by having them removed, but we find Christ in the midst of them. We hope for the problem to go away when God asks us to hope instead for His presence with us in the trials.
Peter has good intuition about this, even if his eagerness tends to get him into trouble. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come.” Yes, Peter, that’s the right idea! I want you to realize that the only thing that matters is your focus upon me! I do command it, come! Now, the real power in this moment does not come from whatever miraculous force keeps a man’s feet above water, but the power that guides the will of a man to obey his God. The physics of the situation is completely secondary to the power of obedience.
Peter and the disciples obeyed Jesus by getting into the boats. While they were being tossed about, do you think they questioned Jesus’ judgment? Do you think they perhaps resented him? Either way, what they need is freedom. And what frees Peter from fear is not the ability to get back to the shore. What frees Peter, even if only temporarily, is the fact that he accepts his place in the storm if only it means he can still walk toward Christ. What frees Peter is the faith and love that is willing to step out of the boat precisely because it is what Jesus commands. Obedience to God is freedom.
Even after stumbling in the water, he has the faith to call out for help. Peter is saved. He did it. Imperfectly, Peter reached Christ. From obedience to fear and doubt back to faith, Peter is saved. And his salvation doesn’t end there on the water. They come back to the boat together. Peter returns to the whole Church, but brings Christ with him. Then, only then, does the peace of God reach the whole community and even the storm.
All of us will face these kinds of storms. Through circumstances and our discernment, Jesus will command us to set sail across some new sea of commitment or trial. It will seem as if he is not with us on the journey, especially when the storm sets in. Others will be unable to help. God will seem silent. As the wind rages longer and longer, we will feel abandoned. But are not.
The Church is praying for you. God is watching over all. Jesus is coming to you, not from outside the storm, but walking upon the water. When you do recognize him, call out and listen for the command “come!” Again and again our relationship with him will lead us moment of decision. Will you trust him?