August 9, 2020 | Scripture, Sermon, & Prayers

:::Announcer’s voice:::: Last week on “The Gospel According to Matthew” Jesus had received the news of John the Baptist’s death, tried to get some me-time, but then there were crowds! His celebrity status followed him to the remote location he had gone to for solitude. Then, miracles! Bread! Fish! Abundance!

This week, we are given another familiar Gospel story, but just because we know it well doesn’t mean we know it completely. The beauty of these ancient sacred texts is that they have so much packed into short snippets that we could rediscover them our entire lives and still find new meaning and wisdom nestled within. So that’s what we’re doing today, it’s our voyage to use sea-faring language.

Jesus sent everyone away. He had given the crowds the spiritual and physical nourishment they needed, and it was time for him to get his much needed alone time. Something that never ceases to strike me as important is how human Jesus was, how we can relate to the way he experienced the same emotions we experience. What a gift, a blessing, that God sent us someone who got worn down, who felt overwhelmed, who recognized a need for quietude in an unrelenting world of busyness that could be all consuming. What a gift that we have precedence for asking for a break because the Son of God was unafraid of disrupting his productivity or delaying meeting his healing and saving quotas because he was worn down and ragged. And in the case of this morning’s reading, he was certainly that. We can read the exhaustion in this passage by the way that it says “Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.” He risked being stranded in a remote place by sending his disciples off ahead of him, but he risked being interrupted again in prayer if he kept them all hanging out, waiting for him. He risked feeling obligated to wrap it up quickly so not to inconvenience them while they sat idly, the night growing deeper and darker.

While this isn’t the only point that bears importance for us in our ever-busy world, I want to make sure we take notice of it. Jesus, who in just a few moments will walk on water, needs a break sometimes. And if the Son of God, the one who is both fully human and fully divine, can’t just recharge and resume a hectic, packed schedule, how on earth can we expect it from ourselves? How can we expect it from others? Hold onto this. We’re moving on from the Self Care speech in a moment, but it is important, especially as we are pushed harder than ever while we adapt to new technologies and are emotionally and mentally drained from merely being aware of what is taking place in the world around us. Jesus, who had enough work piled up to be able to work nonstop for centuries without it ever being done recognized the need for prayer, reflection, and time away from “work.”

And so, with Jesus’ dismissal, the disciples are off on a boat, leaving him alone. The seas had turned rough by the end of the night. The winds picked up, and their boat was being battered by waves. We’ve experienced this kind of choppy sea before, in Matthew 8:23-27. In that pericope, Jesus is in the boat with them, and he is asleep. The apostles wake him, afraid for their lives, and he gives the familiar “You of little faith” speech as he calms the seas. I like to picture that he snuggled back up and went to sleep again, but I think that’s the cranky parent in me that has shone too many lights under the bed looking for monsters in the middle of a REM cycle. This story is slightly different from the other calming the storm story in that the disciples are alone in the boat. If we pay attention to the story, we see that the apostles are not afraid of the waves, or of the deep waters below them. Instead, it’s Jesus that scares them.

Jesus, the guy they’re following and devoting their lives to. The man who does amazing things on the regular, but this, this is something new. This is far from shore. This is in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. Fun fact, these winds that kick up in the story are something you can actually experience today. The geographic location of the sea makes for sudden and violent storms as the wind whips in over the eastern mountains. The cool air rushes in over the warm air that was previously hanging above the sea, and as the warm air rises the sudden change can create some dramatic winds. So this is what Jesus is quite literally walking into, and it scares the men in the boat, who assume they are alone in the middle of this tumult. And they think he’s a ghost. And they don’t trust that it’s really him. Peter, who we give a lot of credit to for stepping out of the boat, is stepping out as a challenge to the Maybe-Jesus, Maybe-Ghost figure on the water. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He steps out and takes a few steps before faltering, realizing that the winds are whipping at the hems of his clothes, and that he is standing in the middle of the deep, mysterious, tumultuous sea. And he cries out for Jesus’ help, which Jesus gives. “You of little faith…” Jesus says again, just as he did before, but this time, for Peter’s benefit only. Jesus calms the seas, stops the infamous winds of the Sea of Galilee, and everyone in the boat worships Jesus, awed by what he has just done.

There are so many jumping off places for theological reflection within this short miracle story that one hardly knows where to begin. We’ll start with the story itself. As we know, the Gospels are made up from four different accounts of the life, death, and in some, the resurrection of Jesus. The Gospels each have their own flavor and style. The stories don’t always link up, there are differences between them. This is why, at Christmas, sometimes we feel like we haven’t heard the whole story—in our brains we have collectively smushed the separate birth accounts together, but in reality, there are very different ways that the birth of Jesus was recorded. Forgive me if I’m over-explaining this, but a refresher is always good. We have the synoptic Gospels, Mark, Matthew, and Luke, and then we have John. Mark, Matthew and Luke are lumped together because they are considered to have common source material they drew from. These three were composed at different times, in different places, with Mark being the oldest of the documents. John is a more recent book, composed in the later part of the first century. The synoptic Gospels have a lot more overlapping material, John has some similarities, but often it has it’s own storytelling tradition that is divergent from the other three. I give this bit of backstory because I think this next tidbit is fascinating. The story of Jesus walking on water appears in three of the four gospels, however, it’s not the three we expect. It is in Matthew, Mark, and John, however it is omitted in Luke. This is significant. Rather than being a tradition handed down from the same source material and reworked by the authors of the synoptic volumes, it is a story that appears in John as well. This was an important event to be shared and carried on through multiple traditions and retellings.

So what was so important about it that it made it through oral tradition in these different strains? One could argue that it’s the whole Walking on Water thing, that is so well known and pervasive in our lexicon that folks who have never even cracked open a bible would get the reference. Or, as we talked about last week, it could be the subtle miracles nestled within the big flashy one.

Theologically, water has deep meaning for us. The sea is deep, mysterious, scary. It is filled with unknown peril. It’s kind of like the world we live in. It’s filled with unknowns, especially right now. Jesus calms stormy seas twice, and this isn’t just a magician’s trick. Theologically and metaphorically, Jesus is offering assurance in a world that is unpredictable. For the early church, the folks who circulated the traditions that eventually were put to paper and made into these Gospels, it was a scary time. Jesus was gone, so how could their belief in him sustain them. Christ followers in that first century were not popular folks, and lived in danger of persecution and death. Jesus was in the boat with the apostles the first time he calmed the storm, but they were alone the second time. Even so, Jesus appeared, calmed the storm again. This is strong comfort for a church that is weathering the storm of establishing itself without its leader. Even without Jesus in the boat, he will come to their aid, will give them a hand up from the choppy waves when they fall in.

And that brings us to Peter. Peter questions Jesus, challenges him. He too tries to walk on water, but has a moment of doubt and falls in. This snippet about Peter only shows up in the Matthew account. Why? What in the tradition in which Matthew was formed caused this part of the story to be retained and passed down when the others omitted it? Peter fails when he tries to walk on water, fails when his faith in Jesus is overshadowed by his very real, very human emotions of fear kicking in, but Jesus helps him up. Jesus chastises him, “you of little faith…” but perhaps it’s done with a good natured chuckle, as he helps his friend, who will later deny him, and gives him unconditional love. This is important for us to hear, because Jesus witnessed one of his own apostles directly challenging him, and then once Jesus has helped this headstrong dude who has just STEPPED OUT OF HIS BOAT to be able to stand on the water as well, Peter loses faith. It would be easy to be mad at this, to say, “forget it, you’re not disciple material.” And let him sink. Or at the very least kick him out of the club once they were back on solid ground. Instead, Jesus loves him, and loves him again.

Our waves are choppy, folks. Our seas have been stormy. Sometimes it’s hard not to let doubt seep in, to question things. This story, this miracle, is that even when we cannot have full faith, when we are shaken, when we have that moment when we’ve stepped out of the boat and realize we are no longer safe or comfortable, Jesus is still reaching out a hand, catching us. His love is inescapable. We need only to cry out to him when we realize we are sinking if we find we are unable to keep up with the stormy demands of stepping out of the boat. May your seas be calm, but when they are rough, may you know that Jesus is always within your reach. Amen.