19th Sunday of Ordinary Time, A August 13, 2023
Fr. Alexander Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
Conviction. It’s a powerful word, coming from “con” & “vincere” – “to conquer with.” Last week’s reflection on the Transfiguration emphasized that our faith is not just one opinion among many, but a conviction of the truth about what God has revealed. Even as we respect the freedom of others, we cannot confuse that respect for others with indifference. We are convicted that Christ is the king, our hearts and minds conquered with that truth. We ought to act like it even as we love and live with those who don’t know it.
How do we live with them, then? We can never compel the faith of another, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t desire their faith even to the point of “great sorrow and constant anguish” like St. Paul in his letter to the Romans. Having laid out hope and conviction that we are justified and glorified in Jesus Christ, Paul is deeply grieved that many of the Jews – his own people – do not have that faith and so are not justified.
This tension, the anguish he describes is because conviction often brings division. Being convicted of something others don’t accept means we act in ways they don’t accept. But if we also yearn for those others to know what we know, we find ourselves perplexed… stuck. We want our own people – family, friends, neighbors, members of our own race and nation – we want them to know and love the truth we know and love. But if we act like the Christians we are called to be – not just being kind, but also rejecting the sins and lies of the world – then we find ourselves divided from the people we most want to be Christian with us.
This is how the “conquering” of conviction – even the conviction of an all-loving God – can sometimes turn into the more literal forms of conquest. Faced with the anguish of knowing the truth, sharing that truth with others, being rejected by them, and still wanting them to know the truth, we sometimes collapse this tension into an outright contradiction, excusing force, fear, and violence as the means of leading people into freedom, joy, and peace. I’m not talking about the forceful protection of basic human rights and dignity – one can be a good Christian while forcefully defending others from evil. One cannot, however, be a good Christian by “converting” people with violence and manipulation.
Again, that is the paradox of conviction, the tension of love that causes St. Paul to say something else paradoxical: “I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people.” Paul loves Jesus and the Jews so much that he almost wishes he could lose Jesus if that would just guarantee that the Jews accept Jesus. Obviously, he’s not being literal. You do no one any good if you sacrifice your soul in trying to save theirs. You cannot give what you do not have. But the point is that if the tension between Paul’s love of God and his love of neighbor is going to “hurt” anyone, he’d rather it hurt him. As we’ll see next week, there is a way forward that doesn’t actually hurt anyone, but we’re not done with the tension yet… we shouldn’t spoil the ending by skipping the conflict too quickly.
What to do with the tension in the meantime? Walk on water. The gospel shows us the Apostles in a boat tossed about in a storm. Like so much of Scripture, this story is both literal and symbolic. The miracles actually happened in order to strengthen the faith of the Apostles, but they are also full of a more transcendent meaning.
The apostles in the boat are a sign of the Church in the stormy ocean of the world. The winds of the world always seem to be against us, yet we’re pressing on even in the fourth watch of the night. Jesus put us in the boat. We’re following his directions even though he went up the mountain… he ascended into heaven where he is praying always for us. Yet, he is with us always – he never abandons his Church. There are events and signs that remind us of his presence. By walking on the water through the storm, Jesus shows that, even in the stormy and fallen world, God is at work. It’s not that he’s outside the Church – he’s heading right for them – just that he’s not limited to the Church, to what we can see. Even then, he is walking on, not being tossed around inside it, reminding us that his ways are not the world’s. He can be seen at work in the fallen world, but his work is not of the world. The sea and storm are always changing; Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Once Peter knows it is Jesus there in the storm, he wants to go to him. To truly love God means recognizing his image in every person. Our love for Jesus must mean yearning to meet Him in others… and to have them recognize Jesus in themselves. So we want to go to them even when they are outside the Church – atheists, criminals, pagans, those fallen away, people whose lives and beliefs make us uncomfortable – we should want to step into the storm of the world for their sake. Like Paul, it can feel like risking our own security, as if merely interacting with such people would undermine our own faith. When Peter steps out, however, he doesn’t really leave the security of the boat. By walking on the water, he teaches us something crucial: it is Christ’s power that makes the boat, the Church, safe in the first place. So long as Peter is focused on Jesus Christ, he is not really leaving the boat so much as extending its security, bridging the gap between God’s work in the Church and God’s work in those who are lost in the storm.
The second he takes his eyes off Christ, however, he gets caught up in the storm of the world and sinks. When our love for the other person overshadows our love for God; when we compromise the very truth we want others to accept; when we let fear of the world prevent us from seeing Christ in others, we too will sink. The moment we drop the tension between love of the truth and love of those who reject that truth, we also break the tension that keeps us above the surface of the water.
Do not break that tension! Be convicted, conquered with the love of God above all else. Be convicted also of the need to love those who don’t know and love God as they should. Seeing Christ in them though they are lost in the storm, let that tension strengthen your faith to step out. If you keep your eyes on Christ in the storm, you just might find yourself walking on water, not escaping the tension but using it to save not only your own soul, but others as well.
And if you do begin to sink, as we all do from time to time? Don’t just surrender to the storm and abandon your convictions. Cry out “Lord, save me!” Reach for Christ in Confession. Let him bring you back to the boat, the safety of the Church. Strengthen your faith, your conviction in the Son of God. Then keep trying, because unlike the scene in the gospel, the storm we’re in is still raging and many that we love are still out there, waiting to be conquered with the truth of God’s love.
Wonderful insights delivered in usable form.