If You Wanna Walk on Water
Matthew 14:22-33, Romans 10:5-15 A man appears before the pearly gates. “Have you ever done anything of particular merit?” St. Peter asks. “Well, I can think of one thing,” the man offers. “Once I came upon a rough looking biker gang who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they wouldn’t listen. So I approached the largest and meanest looking biker. I smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground, and told him, ‘Leave her alone now or you’ll answer to me.’” St. Peter was impressed. “When did this happen?” “A couple minutes ago.” 1 I suspect Peter knows a little bit about this. Impulse control was never his strong-suit either. In today’s story, there are lessons to be learned from this disciple who jumps out of the boat in a raging storm— lessons on courage and faith, and most of all recognizing that resilience doesn’t come from single human will-power. In Matthew’s gospel, this episode follows the death of John and then the feeding of the five thousand. Hearing about his cousin, and predecessor in this movement, Jesus is reminded of the risk he and all his followers are assuming. When the miraculous meal was finished, Jesus insisted the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side of the lake while he dismissed the people. After the crowd dispersed, Jesus took himself up on the mountainside to be by himself and pray. He stayed there, alone, way into the night. The disciples’ boat was out in the middle of the sea, when a storm came upon them. Their boat was “tormented by the waves” (14:24), Matthew wrote. Battered, or tossed, our translations say, emphasizing the violent beating they were taking. You can imagine what this is like –a squall of wind and rain in your face, muscles exhausted from holding on for dear life, working every maneuver they knew to keep the boat upright. They are spent, their resilience tested to their limits. It is around 4:00am, the fourth watch, the darkest hours of the night. The time of night when even sleepers are jolted awake by worries and fears. That is precisely when Jesus shows up. 2 Is this a test of their strength and stamina? A test to see who they will turn to in storms of life? In their rain-soaked fatigue and stress, they see a figure coming at them and don’t recognize that it is him. Jesus is quick to reassure them, “Courage! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” Impulsive Peter reacts saying, “If it is you, call me to come to you on the water.” It is a bold idea, risky. What will Jesus say? “C’mon then,” Jesus said to him. Peter jumped into the stormy sea and started walking out to Jesus. We know what happens next. The wind picks up. Peter gets scared and starts to sink. We give him such a hard time about this. Tsk. Tsk. You of little faith. And yet, I think most of us would lose our nerve in the same circumstances. Most of us would never have even gotten out of the boat. I learned to water ski when I was about 11 years old. It was Memorial Day on Percy Priest lake. We had gone upriver where there were far fewer boats, and the water was much smoother. There I was bobbing in the water in my life vest, struggling to keep the tops of my skis above water, hold onto the rope, let the boat pull me up. All those things you’ve got to do at the same time if you want to glide across the top of the water and not get pulled under. Everyone in my family could ski, so they were all shouting instructions. Remember, I am the youngest child, so I was used to it. I know I took some big spills that day and drank a gallon of lake water, but eventually, I wobbled up to a standing position and held on… I was doing it! Then my father steered the boat in such a way to force me to cross the wake into smoother water. I tried to hold my position right behind the boat. I had never crossed the wake before! “One ski at a time!” I told myself. “I’ll try one ski at a time.” Crossing the wake is a commitment. If you’re on two skis, it’s a two ski, single action maneuver. A skier can’t successfully cross the wake one ski at a time – slowly and carefully. […]