Peace be with you. Friends, our Gospel for
today is from the wonderful fourteenth chapter of Matthew, and it’s his account of
the calming of the storm and the walking
on the water. This is an event that
reached very deeply into the hearts and minds
of the first Christians. We can find an account of
this in all four Gospels, and obviously, this sort
of thing would’ve just turned them upside down. And they began to reflect
on this extraordinary event in very deep ways. By the time the Gospels
are written down, what you have is —it’s a combination now,
and there are two schools. One wants to go one way,
one the other, and they’re both true. What I mean is, this is
an historical account. It’s an account of
something that happened. So don’t think that this
is just a made-up story with a moral meaning. No, no, this happened. But once it happened,
the Christian community began to reflect very
deeply on the event and pull out the different
levels of meaning associated with it, so that when it’s
finally written down —let’s say Matthew’s Gospel
is around the year 80 or so— when it’s finally
written down, what you have is not
a newspaper account. If you’re a good journalist, just give me the “who,
what, when” and all that. Just tell me exactly
what happened. Or it’s simply a photograph
of an event or a film. That’s one thing. But what you have in the
Gospels is not so much that. I would call it an
iconic representation. It’s a real event, but
it’s now being presented to us in an iconic way
so that we can see all of its theological
and spiritual implications. So that’s my principle. Now, where did I learn this? From some newfangled
Scripture scholar? No, no, I learned this
from Origen and Chrysostom and Jerome and Augustine,
the great Church Fathers. That’s how they
read these texts. So let’s look at
this text iconically,
and what do we see? “After he had fed the people,
Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and precede
him to the other side, while he dismissed
the crowds.” Now, the disciples in a boat,
that’s code. The disciples in a boat is a
symbol always of the Church. That’s why we speak of
the barque of Peter, the ship, the boat, of Peter. The Apostles, the immediate
followers of Jesus, in the boat
symbolize the Church. And once you see that
the Gospels begin to open up in fresh ways. And listen: “After doing so, he went
up on the mountain by himself to pray.” Okay, what do the early
Christians intuit now about the Lord? The risen Lord has sent the
Church out into the world. So think now of the ship,
the barque of Peter, and it’s setting out onto
the waters of space and time. The Church is now sailing
out into the world. Where’s Jesus? Well, he’s not in the physical
sense in the boat with them. Where’s the
physical Jesus now? Well, he’s not here
physically among us. Where is he? He’s on the mountain praying. A symbol here,
it seems to me, seems to the
Church Fathers too, of the ascended
and risen Christ, now in the heavenly place, interceding for the
Church with the Father. What’s Jesus doing all day? Well, he’s guiding
his Church. He’s interceding for his
Church with the Father. So think of this now as
an image for all of us. It’s two thousand
years later, but we’re all in
the barque of Peter. We’re in the ship
of the Church. We’re making our way through
the waters of space and time. And Jesus, ascended and risen,
is interceding for us. Okay? “When it was evening
he was there alone.” He, Jesus. “Meanwhile the boat,
already a few miles offshore” —listen now— “was being tossed
about by the waves, for the wind
was against it.” Again, did this
really happen? Yes, they’re describing
a real event, the storm at sea. But now we’re reading it
with these theological and spiritual lenses
in place. The barque of Peter making
its way through space and time sometimes is on smooth water,
smooth seas. But very often, and even
the most casual student of Church history knows it, very often the Church
goes through storms. The wind is against it. Now we’ve heard
just in recent weeks reading the parables
of Jesus, “there’s an enemy at work.” Yes, there is. We have enemies both
visible and invisible, and they stand to thwart
the purpose of the Church. There’s our own corruption,
our own stupidity. There are the enemies
that we can see who oppose themselves
to us, etc., etc. All of these forces kick up
the waves and make the sailing
of the ship dangerous indeed,
perilous indeed. Again, go from the
time of the Apostles, all the way up to
the patristic period, into the Middle Ages,
into the modern period, into our contemporary world,
what do you find? The Church being
tossed about by waves. I referenced it I think last
week or a couple weeks ago. We’ve all just in this country
been going through a very stormy time, with the scandals that
have rocked the Church. The barque of Peter,
yes, was taking on water. The barque of Peter was up
against very strong waves. “During the fourth
watch of the night” —now this is code for the
darkest time of the night. It’s always darkest
before the dawn, right? So the darkest
time of night. It’s night and
it’s stormy. If you feel the Church is
going through a rough time, it’s right at this moment. “The disciples saw him
walking on the sea,” and “they were terrified.” I mean, they remembered
this so vividly, this fact of Jesus
walking on the sea. But let’s read it
theologically and spiritually. The Church is being
buffeted by waves. They’re afraid,
of course they are. At the darkest time,
Jesus comes walking on the
stormy waters. See, notice,
not only managing to swim in them. Let’s say that you got the
strongest swimmer around; the strongest human
figure is able maybe to swim in stormy seas. No, he’s not just doing that. He’s walking on the water. Go right back, everybody,
to the opening verse of the entire Bible, when there’s the
“tohu wabohu,” we hear, the stormy,
the watery, chaos, and the spirit
of the Lord hovers on the surface
of the water. This is the creative
power of God, listen, bringing order
out of chaos. When the Israelites come
up against the Red Sea, through the power of
the Lord that sea is split and they’re able
to walk through it. So here the divine Christ
is able to walk even on the stormiest
waters there are. Praying for his Church? Yes, indeed all the time. Also intervening when the
Church is most threatened with his divine power
to master even the worst crises. See, we’re meant to take
an enormous comfort in this. Notice though, please,
what precedes the comfort, if you want. They saw him walking on the
sea and they were terrified. See, this is the proper
response to the power of God. As I say, if you saw
a powerful human being swimming in the
stormy waters, you’d say, “Wow,
that guy’s impressive,” or, “Wow, maybe he
can survive this.” But when you see somebody
walking on the stormy waters, you’re not dealing with
an ordinary human agent. You’re dealing with
the power of God. What’s the proper response
to the power of God? It’s terror. And not a terror
that’s debilitating, but it’s a keen awareness of the transcendent power
that we’re dealing with. It’s wonderful. It’s the fear of the Lord,
if you want —that gift of
the Holy Spirit. “At once Jesus spoke to them, ‘Take courage, it is I;
do not be afraid.’” Again, this is biblical
code, isn’t it? This is Matthew’s Gospel, but you find this
especially in John. The Greek there
is “ego eimi,” which is “I am.”
I am. See, it is I. But what he’s saying
is an echo of Exodus 3:14, when Moses asked God,
“What’s your name?” And in the Greek of
the Old Testament, he says, “ego eimi ho on,” “I am who am.” I am the one who is. My name is I am. So the power here,
everybody, is Jesus announces to them
his own divinity, and it’s only in that
divinity that we are going to find salvation in the
stormy times of life. If we start turning
toward human figures —I don’t care who they are,
they’re philosophers, they’re theologians,
they’re pop stars, they’re political figures—
forget it. Forget it. That’s not going
to save us. The only power capable
of saving and sustaining the Church is “ego eimi,” I am who am. It’s the divinity of Jesus. And isn’t it lovely? He says to them, “Take courage.
Don’t be afraid.” Where’s courage
come from? I mean real courage. Not from worldly figures. It just doesn’t. I start relying on
these worldly figures, I will necessarily
be disappointed. Where does the courage
to be come from? It comes when we borrow
from the divine Christ something of his divinity. When we participate —yes, even in
the stormy times— in his divinity, we find courage
and we find peace. Now wonderfully, of course,
Peter, as he often does, speaks for all the
other Apostles. The successor of Peter is
still the leader of the Church. So Peter speaks
to the Lord: “Lord, if it is you, command me
to come to you on the water.” Jesus says,
“Come.” Now, remember, we’re still
in the storm here. Think of the Church at its
darkest, stormiest times. Jesus says,
“Come.” Come. And then, “Peter got out
of the boat and began to walk on
the water toward Jesus.” This is exactly now what
I was talking about, that we borrow some of
the power and the courage of the divine Christ and then we are able, yes, even to walk on
the stormiest waters. How do we get
through these times? Don’t rely on ourselves. Everything in
our culture says, “Me, me, me.
My prerogatives, my choice.
I’m so great. I’m perfect in every way.” Forget it. That’s a spiritual dead end. Or, “Oh, I better rely on
these political people. They’re going to
save the day.” Or, “Oh boy, these
revolutionaries.” Forget it. None of that will allow
you to walk on the water. It’s only the power of Christ,
the divine Christ. And then this
beautiful detail. So Peter’s walking on
the water toward Jesus, looking at the Lord, “but when he saw how strong the
wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink,
he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’” It’s a simple point, but
very important spiritually. When you’re in the
midst of the storm —we’re in one right now
in the Church, God knows— you’re in the
midst of a storm, look not to the
waves but to Christ. It’s always the temptation to look first at
what’s threatening us. I know it’s an instinct. It’s a deep animal
instinct in us, to look at what’s
frightening us. “I better be
careful of that.” No, no. Keep your eyes
fixed on Christ, and then you can
continue to walk. The sinking comes when we
turn from his divine power to what’s threatening us. And then how
beautifully it ends: “Jesus stretched out his
hand and caught Peter, and said to him, ‘O you of little faith,
why did you doubt?’” And they got into the boat,
and the winds died down. There’s Christ who,
up and down the centuries, as the barque of Peter crosses
the waters of space and time, saves his Church. And look how it ends: “Those who were in the
boat did him homage, saying, ‘Truly, you are
the Son of God.’” They got it. See, it’s one of the
moments when they realize, “We are not dealing here
with another Jeremiah or another Isaiah or
another Abraham or Jacob.” No, no. Nothing as trivial as that. What we’re dealing with
here is the God of Israel. We’re dealing here
with the Lord God. And so the proper response
is not just to admire him or thank him
but to worship him. Mind you, my
fellow Christians, when we stop doing that, we’ve lost our
way as a Church. When Jesus becomes just
one more little interesting prophetic figure among many,
forget it. We are going to go
under the waves. But see, when we trust in
his divinity and his power, we do him homage? Even we can walk
on the water. And God bless you.
