Proper 14A – George Yandell
Richard J. Fairchild tells the story of a man who took his new hunting dog on a trial hunt one day. After a while he managed to shoot a duck and it fell in the lake. The dog walked over the water, picked up the duck, and brought it to his master. The man was stunned. He didn’t know what to think.
He shot another duck, and again, it fell into the lake; and again the dog walked over the water and brought it back to his master. Hardly daring to believe his eyes, and not wanting to be thought a total fool, he told no one about it—but the next day he called his neighbor to come shooting with him.
As on the previous day, he shot a duck and it fell into the lake. The dog walked over the water and got it. His neighbor didn’t say a word. Several more ducks got shot that day— and each time the dog walked over the water to retrieve them. And each time the neighbor said nothing, and neither did the owner of the dog.
Finally—unable to contain himself any longer—the owner asked his neighbor: “Do you notice anything strange about my dog?” “Yes,” replied the neighbor, rubbing his chin and thinking a bit. “Come to think of it, I do. Your dog doesn’t know how to swim.”
Over and over in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is seen urging his disciples toward increased faith. Jesus praises those he cures with the words, “Your faith has healed you.” He chides the disciples by addressing them as “you of little faith.”
Jesus and his disciples are on the east side of the Sea of Galilee, the Romanized region of the Decapolis, the 10 cities populated mostly by non-Jews. The feeding of the 5000 has just taken place. Jesus sends his colleagues across the sea to Galilee without him. He then goes up onto a mountain to pray.
This is the first time in the gospel that Jesus sends forth his disciples without Him. They are battered by the waves far from shore. At its widest point, the Sea of Galilee is about 10 miles across. Windstorms funneled by the mountains often whip up the waves very quickly. About 4:00 in the morning, Jesus comes walking across the sea to the boat. His friends are terrified thinking him to be a ghost. Jesus speaks, “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.” Peter thinks it may not really be Jesus, so he tests Jesus, “Command me to come to you on the water.” But coming near Jesus, Peter gets frightened and begins to sink, the waves raging around them. Jesus reaches out his hand, catches Peter, chastises him for doubting, and they climb into the boat. Immediately the wind ceases blowing. His companions then worship him, exclaiming, “This is it! You are God’s Son for sure!” [Translation from the Message Bible, p. 40]
I doubt Peter expects a walk on the sea will alleviate all his fears. Rather, his desire to join Jesus on the water expresses a desire for transcendence. He’s not trying to be Jesus, he’s trying to be with him. Peter wants to share Jesus’ unbounded place, to put himself beyond the forces and expectations that determine our usual existence, whether for better or for worse.
When Peter steps from the boat into the waves, Jesus’ words give this impetuous disciple the courage to believe: “It is I,” Jesus assures him. “Do not be afraid.” But doubts cause the brash and brave disciple to sink.
Fear of the unknown below, waves of vulnerability, a sense of failure and even sudden death lurk within him. They cut off his faith in the moment. But the water holds up long enough for Peter to be safely caught by his Master—and he finds himself safe as the winds cease.
It doesn’t even take much imagination to envision such scenarios in our own lives and their potential outcomes. (Adapted from Synthesis, August 2017 issue.)
Traveling in north Mississippi in June on my way to Memphis, I spied an Assembly of God Church sign with a message that caught my eye- “Is prayer your steering wheel or your spare tire?”// Give it a second to sink in.
We are very imperfect vehicles to embody Divine Grace. We’re all driving around on at least one flat tire and with missing or malfunctioning parts. Broken as we are, the impulse is still there: Christ’s desire to make grace and truth grow in us. (Adapted from Mark Brown, SSJE.) We might hear the story as a parable about trusting in God’s care during the storms we sail into.
As long as we keep our eyes on Jesus, we’re okay. But when we stop and consider our own inadequacies, how much bigger life is than we are, how immense our problems and our aspirations are- when we stop and think how unequal we are to the task of meeting any of them, we panic. We begin to feel that we are all on our own again. I must do this all by myself. I have no help. It’s wrong to ask for help; it’s a sign of weakness. I should be able to do this myself.
Why? Why do we think we should be able to handle everything by ourselves? Who told you that you should be ashamed of the fact that you lean on many people, and always have — not just in childhood, but now? Why is it a source of shame to us that God is bigger than we are, so that we can only believe if we cut God down to our own size? The point of the story is our need for help. Peter is foolish when he tries to walk on water by himself. That is only one of the many things he can’t do on his own. It’s probably on your list, too. Our lists of things we can’t do on our own are long. But we’re not supposed to be able to do anything on our list alone. [Two paragraphs above adapted from The Almost-Daily eMo from the Geranium Farm Copyright © 2001-2011 Barbara Crafton – all rights reserved]
Remember the old hymn and note, the personal pronouns are all plural:
Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea; Day by day His sweet voice soundeth, saying, “Christian, follow Me!”
Jesus calls us! By Thy mercies, Savior, may we hear Thy call, Give our hearts to Thine obedience, Serve and love Thee best of all.