SERMON FOR AUGUST 9, 2020        TEXT: MATTHEW 14:22-33

          Interpreters take this story in a number of directions. It all depends on which of the main characters — Peter or Jesus — serves as the focal point.

          There is the tried and true moral drawn from Peter’s actions. Some emphasize the disciple’s initiative: it’s important to take the risk of faith, to trust the power of God at work for us and get out of the boat. Here is how one pastor expressed this view, “I liken this to the understanding of the church as the boat.    And the waters being the chaos of the world.    God alone saves, but once and awhile we need a few ridiculous people like Peter to try something that nobody in the church thinks we should be doing.”             

          If Peter is commended by some for taking initiative, he is faulted by others for failing to keep his eye on the prize. This school of thought points out that boldness and impetuosity are just as often at the root of Peter’s troubles as they are the sources of his success. He may clamber out of the boat with confidence, but he quickly becomes distracted by the fierce wind and falters. The lesson to be learned here is: “Keep your eyes on Jesus.” The deeper your troubles, the greater your fears, the more you need to focus on the Savior, shutting out the temptations crowding into your peripheral vision.

          While acknowledging that there’s plenty of support in the biblical text for this interpretation, the New Testament scholar David Lose finds it unsatisfying. He writes, “[M]y problem isn’t that I don’t know I should trust Jesus. . . . It’s just that no matter how hard I try, I seem to get distracted, worried, even overwhelmed at times by the waves all around me. Economic, political, social, medical, ecclesial — I can find things to worry about just about anywhere, and while I know that I should trust them all to the Lord, it just isn’t that easy. And, truthfully, having one more cheerleader tell me from the pulpit what I should do but can’t seem to just doesn’t help. If anything, it makes things worse.” Like so much good advice, it’s easier said than done.

          Another Lutheran interpreter, Mark Vitalis-Hoffman, sees Peter’s behavior in a very different light. He regards the disciple’s response to Jesus as a provocation that is hardly commendable. He concludes, “. . .[W]hen Peter says, ‘If it is you. . .’, he is joining the company of Satan (Matthew 4:3, 6), the high priest (26:63), and the mockers at the cross (27:40) who all put the same challenge to Jesus. In each case, just like Peter, they want Jesus to do something in order to verify his identity. This is not a good thing.”    According to this interpretation, Peter offers would-be disciples both a bad example and a good one. Don’t presume — leave the walking on water to the One who is the master of wind and wave. And when you recklessly get yourself in over your head, do the right thing, cry out, “Lord, save me!”

          So now the focus shifts from Peter to Jesus, and here again, interpreters see the story differently. One surprising variation focuses on the issue of self-care and the importance of Jesus knowing when enough is enough. Remember last week’s Gospel about the feeding of the five thousand. Jesus had tried to withdraw to a deserted place by himself, but the crowds followed him. He had compassion on them, sacrificing the solitude he sought to tend to their needs instead. But once everyone had eaten, Jesus immediately “made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.” Then he went up the mountain by himself to pray.

          Mountains in Matthew’s Gospel have special significance — think of the Sermon on the Mount, the Mount of the Transfiguration — they are closer to heaven, nearer my God to thee, places of holy power. Even Jesus requires time to recharge, and he has the good sense to tend to his need. We should learn from his example. Mitzi Smith of Columbia Theological Seminary points out that despite the storm at sea, Jesus stayed put and chose to be fully present in his space and time alone. She concludes, “We all variously allow our callings to blind us to our limitations and the long term effects of neglecting self-care. We can’t jump for every storm . . . . After his spirit, mind, and body were rejuvenated . . . Jesus is empowered from head to the sole of his water-walking feet . . . .”    Now there’s an interpretation worth remembering on those days when you feel like you’re sinking fast!

                  Today’s Gospel recounts the second adventure that the disciples have experienced with Jesus in turbulent waters. In chapter 8 (vv. 23-27) Matthew tells the story of the stilling of the storm:    And when [Jesus] got into the boat, his disciples followed him. A windstorm arose on the sea, so great that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him up, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” The two stories mark an important progression in the disciples’ understanding.

          The Sea of Galilee was known for sudden storms and dangerous winds. On both occasions the disciples had good reason to be fearful. Moreover, in Jesus’ day people regarded the wildness of the sea as the ever-present threat of chaos if the waters broke free of the boundaries God had set in creation. When Jesus stills the waves, the astonished disciples wonder what kind of man this is who exercises such power over the forces of nature. The second time, when they are in the boat alone and Jesus then comes to them, they realize the answer. He walks unhindered across the battering waves. He speaks to their fear that they are encountering a ghost, a specter of death, with powerful words, words that do not at first still the violent wind but calm the terrified spirit. “But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’” Jesus identifies himself with the words God used in response to Moses: the great “I Am”. At the end of this experience the disciples know with certainty what sort of man this is. “And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’” It is in the midst of chaos and fear that they see him clearly. They are still persons of little faith, but that little faith is enough, and it is growing.

          The adverb “immediately” appears three times in today’s story. Right at the beginning: “Immediately [Jesus] made the disciples get into the boat and go ahead to the other side . . . .” A second time when he approaches the terrified disciples across the waves: “But immediately Jesus spoke to them . . . .” And a third time when the Lord reacts to Peter’s desperate cry: “Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him . . . .” The movie Lawrence of Arabia was released in 1962. Our family made a special trip to a theater in Baltimore to see it. One particular scene has always haunted me. Two young Arab boys attach themselves to Lawrence and travel with him. During a trek across the desert one of them falls into quicksand. Despite Lawrence’s determined attempts to pull him out, he ultimately can no longer hold onto the terrified youth, who is swallowed up into unholy silence. No matter the chaos and fear sucking us under, we will not slip from the grasp of the Son of God. And because of his strong hand catching each one of us, we can in turn reach out to each other. Hand upon hand upon hand, we can pull each other to safety and hold on to one another in love. Amen.