Go to the readings for the 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A)
A young man applied for a job as a farmhand. When the farmer asked for his qualifications, he said, “I can sleep through a storm.” This puzzled the farmer… but he liked the young man. So, he hired him. A few weeks later, the farmer and his wife were awakened in the night by a violent storm ripping through the area. He leapt out of bed and called for his new hired hand, but the young man was sleeping soundly. So, they quickly began to check things to see if all was secure. They found that the shutters of the farmhouse had been securely fastened. A good supply of logs had been set next to the fireplace. The farmer and his wife then went outside. They found that the farm equipment had been properly placed in the storage shed, safe from the elements. The bales of wheat had been bound and wrapped in tarpaulins. The tractor had been moved into its place in the garage. The barn doors were repaired and properly latched. Even the animals were calm and had plenty of feed. All was well. The farmer then understood the meaning of the young man’s words, “I can sleep through a storm.”
Our readings today have a common theme of being in stormy conditions. Three of the gospel books, Matthew, Mark, and John, have this same sequence of events: Jesus provides a miraculous multiplication of food, and then Jesus sends the apostles off in a boat while he goes to a mountainous place by himself to pray, and then the apostles encounter Jesus walking toward them on the sea amidst a terrible storm. So Jesus shows the people that he is able to abundantly and miraculously provide for them in times of need, that if even Jesus needs to take a break from people, and go to a quiet peaceful place to pray to and commune with God the Father, how much more do we need to do so, also, and that Jesus is Lord over even the forces of the natural world, Lord over the terrible power of the sea, and the Lord calming the raging storm.
Today, as we hear Matthew’s version of this event of Jesus calming the storm, only in Matthew do we have the scene of Peter also walking on the water. The gospel makes it clear that they are far out at sea, and they know they’re in trouble, and it’s deep, dark night. When the disciples saw him walking toward them on the sea they were terrified. “At once Jesus spoke to them, ‘Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.’” Two quick things about that. First, “Do not be afraid” is repeated throughout the scriptures, almost every time there is what is called a theophany, a supernatural encounter with beings of the heavenly reality. Almost every time someone is visited by an angel, the first words of the angel are, “Be not afraid.” Recently, I heard that the more literal translation of that is, “Stop screaming, it’s fine,” and I really hoped that it was true, but sadly it’s not. So Jesus encounters them in this terrible storm, coming to them in a very supernatural way, such that they feared he might even be a ghost, and he first calms the storm of their fears. And he says, “It is I.” Again, the more literal translation of the Greek, “Ego Eimi” is “I AM,” which is the divine name God gave to Moses from the burning bush. Do not be afraid; I am; I am who am, to you, as I was and always will be. Jesus is using the divine name to affirm that he is the Lord God almighty. He is Emmanuel, which means, “God with us.”
Then we have this special moment that is only in Matthew’s version of this scene. Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus responds to him, “Come.” And “Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how strong the wind was, he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter,
and said to him, ‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’”
Such a beautiful moment in the gospel. First, Jesus can walk on the sea. Peter cannot walk on the sea, any more than you can walk on the sea. Don’t try this at home, kids. But Jesus shared his power with Peter, allowing Peter to do more than he knew he could. You can imagine the gaze of love from Jesus, which is his true power, toward Peter, who had the courage to get out of the boat in absolute trust. As long as Peter’s entire focus, his trust, was on Jesus, Peter could receive this supernatural gift from Jesus. But as soon as Peter focused more on the storm, he began to sink. When his focus wasn’t on Jesus, he wasn’t able to use the power, the gift, Jesus was giving him. And Peter by himself can’t walk on the sea. And so Peter was, then, just Peter. But even then, Peter immediately called out to Jesus to save him, and Jesus immediately stretched out his hand and caught Peter. So if you can’t walk on the sea in the storm, the next best thing is to cry out, “Lord, save me,” and Jesus will reach out to rescue you. And then Jesus looks at Peter with affection, who stepped out onto the sea at the bidding of Jesus, and Jesus says to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Now we can get a bit defensive of Peter, and think, “What do you mean, ‘You of little faith!?’ You didn’t see Matthew or John try to step out of the boat!” But Peter really was walking on the sea, until the moment that he feared the power of the storm more than he trusted the power of the Lord, and he feared that the storm’s power to destroy him might be stronger than the Lord’s power of love and care for him.
We all have storms in our life that cause us to fear that it might overwhelm us and sink us. But that is to look at the storm and become frightened, rather than keeping our focus on the Lord over the storm, who gives us not only his assurance, but his divine power to walk through the storm. Another application of this is when we’re battling strong temptation to an sinful attachment and habit. If our focus is on the temptation, we’re focusing on the storm. And we need to shift our focus to Jesus. He is our way in the storm, the Lord over the storm, who invites us to get out of the boat and walk toward him, full of love for us, calmly calling us in the storm to trust in him.
This relates to our first reading beautifully. The prophet Elijah just defeated and slaughtered the prophets of the false god of Ba’al, and the wicked queen Jezebel in a rage has launched a manhunt to kill Elijah. He’s old, he’s tired, he’s afraid, he’s the only true prophet of God left, and he asked God to just take his life. But instead, God rewards him for his faithfulness, and encourages him with a divine favor. “At the mountain of God, Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter. Then the LORD said to him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD.” And Elijah experiences magnificent displays of the power of nature. “A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire but the LORD was not in the fire.” While all these things even in today’s legal documents are called “Acts of God,” Elijah understood that these were examples of power in human, natural terms. But God’s version of power is different. “After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.”
(Incidentally, when you see the word LORD, as it appears here in all capital letters, it is that divine name spoken to Moses, YHWH, “I AM,” or in Greek, “Ego eimi,” by which Jesus identified himself as he approached the apostles in the boat on the sea.)
Humanity, especially in our fallen nature, always expects God to be like humans, but superiorly so. If we look at pagan myths, the gods are like spoiled rich powerful humans. We define powerful people as those who can exert their will over others, able to accomplish feats that weaker, lesser people can’t do. We praise physical power and skills and clever minds that can manipulate things and people around them to achieve their goals. Then Jesus comes on the scene. But he teaches that true power is in being small, humble, child-like, compassionate, meek and merciful, accepting poor treatment, persecution, even the cross, and to do all this motivated by love, and in this is true power. Whoever wishes to be great among you must first become a servant to others.
Elijah spent most of his life as a humble, obedient servant of God, passing on God’s divine messages to his people. Elijah knew the ways and the heart of God. And so he wasn’t tricked by the showy displays of natural power. But when all that had passed, and he heard the soft tender voice, he recognized the nature of true divine power, and he hid his face as he went out to encounter the Lord at the entrance of the cave.
Jesus didn’t shout. He spoke with kindness, mercy, and love: calm tenderness. God doesn’t shout. He might be direct with us, which we don’t always like. He might be very clear when we sometimes need it, what during my seminary vocational discernment I called “the divine 2×4,” which God sometimes needs to use when we’re asking God to answer us but we’re really being very hard-headed. But the divine voice doesn’t shout at us, doesn’t intimidate us, bully us, or speak disparagingly to us. His voice speaks gently to our heart, “I am with you. Trust in me.”
A while ago one of my friends tried to get me into transcendental meditation, which is a secular kind of like seeking peace without God. I didn’t really pursue it, but there was an image I learned from that. If you think about a storm in deep seas, it’s only the surface that’s storming, with big waves crashing. But deeper down, the water moves very little, and it maintains its stillness and calmness even when it’s stormy on the surface, on the outside. We want to focus ourselves not out where we are prone to the storms of the world, but deep within ourselves, where it can remain calm regardless of the events that can disturb the surface.
When we’re in a storm, with the wind and waves raging around us, you don’t have to fear that you have to shout to God, to be heard over the deafening noise of the storm. God is also quietly, peacefully, lovingly within you. You are his beloved. Find your own still, small voice, and speak to God within you, in the calmness of your inner-most heart, and in there, seek his peace. Ask him to fill you with the power that comes from his divine, unconditional, unshakable love for you, as you keep your focus on him, and not on the storm around you. That’s how you sleep through a storm: You are confidently prepared; you know you have no reason to panic, no reason to fear. That’s how you do what Elijah did, and what Peter did. You practice listening for the small gentle voice of divine presence. You get out of the boat of relying on your own sense of control and safety, and you prudently keep your gaze locked on Jesus, as you walk toward him in the midst of the storm. He is the Lord over the storm, and over you, and he gently reaches out to you and says, “Do not be afraid. Come.”
The Snarky Vicar 