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The sermon I preached today. The gospel text is Matthew 14:22-33, and the epistle is Romans 10:5-15. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved," writes St. Paul. And Peter calls out, "Lord, save me!" At some point in our lives we all feel ourselves sinking in the chaos of a turbulent sea, or tossed about in our own little boats, certain that life's storms will swamp us. In these situations we might very well cry out, "Lord, save me!" It's a place of desperation and pain that is common to all people, and the authors of the gospels knew it well. In the turbulent early days of the church � the destruction of the temple, the division between Jewish Christians and the rest of Judaism � Christians must have felt as if they were sailing a small and vulnerable ship into stormy seas. The image of a serene and powerful Jesus, walking atop the waves and calming the storm, must have been a great comfort then, as it is today. Today we once again find ourselves sailing an unsteady craft, our fractured and imperfect church, into choppy waters. That symbol, of the church as a boat, appears in another story in Matthew's gospel. In chapter 8 there is a very similar account, which today's narrative is meant to recall. The previous story also sees the disciples sailing across the Sea of Galilee, caught in a storm and fearing for their lives. The difference is that in that story, Jesus is also in the boat. He sleeps through the storm and, once woken up, calms the waves with a command. Here at St. Anne's we have, as our visual focal point, J.E.H. Macdonald's powerful depiction of this event. There stands Christ, confident and powerful, commanding the storm to cease. There's a lot of Christology, definition of Christ, packed into that gospel image. For one thing, only God can command the sea, and the sea is a wild and untamed force. In the creation narrative, the first one, the oceans are present before creation � "In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters." Notice that God doesn't create the water � it's part of the unordered chaos that existed before God's creative act. God subdues the water on the third day, God orders and controls it, causing land to appear. But in the Biblical mind it remains a force of chaotic and unpredictable violence, held in check by God's will. That is why we are baptised in water � it is a symbolic death, from which we emerge into life in Christ. The tsunami this past Christmas, and even the high number of drownings this summer, should serve to remind us of the deadly power of water. If Jesus can command the waters, if he can still the waves, then he must truly be the Son of God. However, in today's gospel the disciples set out alone, unaccompanied by Jesus. The fact that we have two such similar stories with one such important difference is significant. What does it mean for Jesus to not be present? At the beginning of Matthew's gospel, Jesus is called Emmanuel � "God with us." Jesus is understood as mediating God's presence, bringing God and human together. But now the disciples are alone. They are alone just as they were after Christ was crucified, and as they were once again after he ascended into heaven. In the midst of the chaos of the world they are left alone in the boat, the church, with only that fragile craft to preserve them from the storm of conflict and persecution that surrounds. If the first boat story showed us how the church can find calm seas with Jesus' help, then this story has something to teach us about our own abilities and frailties in a post-ascension church, the church as it is now, without the bodily and obvious presence of Christ. Early Christians, like us, must have wished that Jesus would return and show them what to do, how to live and worship in a world that is often at odds with our philosophies. It would be so much easier if he had stayed in the boat with us, where we could see and touch him. Now we find ourselves in danger of sinking, with no help in sight. Of course we're not alone, and Jesus has not left us. Not really. He may not be here in the flesh � that is, in the boat � but he is present to us in the midst of the storm. We see this in today's gospel when Jesus walks across the raging sea. Again we find an example of Christ's connection to God � to walk on the sea, unaffected by the storm, is to have conquered, defeated, the wild and chaotic waters. It's an act which the ancient mind reserved for deities only. That is why, when the disciples react in fear to this amazing sight, Jesus reassures them by saying, "I Am." It's translated "it is I" in the NRSV version we read in church, but in Greek the phrase is ego eimi and it means, most closely, "I Am." Anyone who has heard the story of Moses and the burning bush knows that "I Am" is God's method of self-description. Jesus is identified with God by doing Godlike things and by claiming God's identity. Of course, if we truly believe that Jesus was Emmanuel, "God with us," then his walking on water shouldn't surprise us. What might surprise us is that an ordinary human also steps out of the boat. The church, especially the church outside of Rome, likes to pick on poor Peter. The gospel writers certainly made that easy, since Peter is so often depicted doing and saying all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Many people point to this story, of Peter walking on water but taking his eyes off Christ, and say, "He just didn't have faith. If he'd kept his eyes on Christ, he'd have been fine." First of all, we need to remember that Peter is often our surrogate in the story, our avatar. He acts and speaks for us, so we best be gentle with our criticism. Anything we level at him, we level at ourselves. That said, I'd like to both rise to Peter's defence and also suggest an even greater lack of faith. We can't fault Peter for sinking into the waves. Only God can walk on water, and Peter wasn't a god. The fact that Peter was able to walk even a few steps, to imitate (if only for a moment) the actions of the Son of God � that carries a profound meaning. We, mere creatures that we are, we have it in us to follow in Christ's footsteps. We are what theologians call capax Dei, capable of God. We have it in us to join in God's divine life, to take our place beside Christ as heirs to the kingdom. Yes, Peter couldn't do it alone, and neither can we. We need Jesus, Emmanuel, "God with us," to help us stay on top of the chaotic waves. Alone we sink. But today's gospel assures us that, even in the stormiest seas, when we think that all is lost, Jesus is there. And once Peter saw that this was Christ, once he had that proof, he could then call out "Lord, save me!" He knew then that it was Jesus, and so confessed him to be the Lord. And that is the heavier accusation levelled against Peter in today's story � he needed proof before he trusted Jesus. When he saw Christ walking on the sea, when his eyes told him "here is Jesus," and when Jesus not only identified himself as God � "I AM" - but told the disciples to take heart and not be afraid, even then Peter did not fully believe. "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." If it is you. Now, we have to give him credit � he's willing to risk drowning to test his faith. But what would have happened had Peter had called, "Lord, save us!" from the boat, rather than as he began to sink into the waves? Remembering that Peter speaks and acts for us in these stories, that he is us projected into the narrative, we might ask ourselves, "Do I trust that Jesus is there? Do I believe it? Without spectacular evidence, without miracles performed for the benefit of my scepticism? Can I accept that we are not alone in the boat?" That is, I think, the challenge of today's gospel. We are assured that we will, indeed, be able to walk on water, to join in the divine life. We are capax Dei, capable of God, and with Christ's guidance all of humanity is invited into the kingdom. But Jesus asks us to believe that invitation while we're still in the boat, tossed on a raging sea and threatening to sink. He asks us to believe it without any spectacular miracles for proof. St. Paul writes, "For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved." Peter had to step out of the boat, to test Christ, before he was able to believe in his heart or confess with his mouth. Do we need such stunning proof? Or can we believe on faith, and trust that Christ is there? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. |
