Sunday, August 9, 2020

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 19A

Matthew 14:22-33

In Matthew 8 the disciples are on the Sea of Galilee when a storm whips up and nearly swamps the boat they are sailing, and Jesus nearly sleeps through the commotion. When they wake him and call out to him, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” he says to them, “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” And Matthew tells us, “Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm.”

And now in Matthew 14, after healing the sick and teaching about the kingdom of heaven, after the miraculous feeding of the five thousand, we have another sea tale.

Matthew tells us that, after the people were fed and satisfied, Jesus went off on his own and the disciples set sail, planning to cross to the other side. But this time, it isn’t a storm that frightens the disciples. Matthew says the boat was battered by waves, so they were probably exhausted and soaked through and through, but they weren’t afraid of the sea this time. They only cried out in fear when they saw Jesus walking on the sea toward them.

While the translation we just read says these events took place early in the morning, the Greek is more exact, saying it was the fourth watch of the night, which is between 3 and 6 a.m. Most of us would probably call it the wee hours of the night, not early morning.  

About fifteen years ago, I was on the crew of a boat sailing from Annapolis, Maryland to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and I remember taking a fourth watch. Even with modern running lights, electronic instruments, and lighthouse beacons, it’s dark at night on the open water.

At that hour, you aren’t expecting to see much of anything, so it’s no wonder that in the midst of the fog and shifting shadows of those wee hours, the disciples thought Jesus was a ghost.  

But I don’t want to just sail past that detail. The disciples have just spent days with Jesus, soaking in his teaching; watching his compassion and love for suffering and hungry people and learning from him. They had shared the abundance of God’s goodness with the crowds less than twelve hours before, but now they do not recognize him.

If we are honest, we know we often don’t fare a lot better. We worship together, hear Scripture, offer our confession and receive forgiveness, pray and praise God for all God gives us, and yet, in an instant, when we become frustrated, angry, or afraid, we forget everything we know about God and who we are as God’s children.

It’s likely that, in their uncertainty, the disciples reverted to their base instincts, and seized onto what they had been taught about the sea - that it is threatening, a place of chaos, representing all the anxieties, powers and principalities that threaten the good of created order. Operating from that space, they thought what they were seeing must be an apparition and perhaps it had been sent to them by one of those destructive forces. Is it any wonder they cried out?

The experience of miracle and wonder from the day before was lost. As were any of the comforting words Jesus had spoken earlier to them, when he told them, “the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matt. 10:31)

They became afraid and, in their fear and anxiety, they could not recognize the very presence of God with them in Jesus.

Matthew says, “Immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid." (Matt. 14:27)

Again, the Greek is more specific than the English. What Jesus says is ἐγώ εἰμι  ̶  “I am”, the very same words that God spoke to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Moses to reveal to them that God was with them.

Immediately, Jesus reminds them of a Gospel truth that is more enduring than anything they have been taught about earthly things. They are not alone. The God of Israel, the same God who delivered their ancestors from slavery under Pharaoh and exile in Babylon is with them.

This isn’t a remote God in the farthest heavens. This is God within arm’s reach. Right there in the soup with them.

So first Jesus reminds them who God is – Emmanuel, God with us - and then he commands them, “take heart” or “be of good courage.”

Karoline Lewis writes that “the root meaning of the English word “courage” is the Latin cor and the French couer [cuur] or “heart” which may explain why the English translations vary.”[i] The two other places where Matthew includes this command are when Jesus, speaking to the paralytic brought to him laying on a mat (9:2), says, “Take heart, your sins are forgiven.” And when he healed the hemorrhaging woman who had touched his cloak, saying, “Take heart, your faith has made you well.” (9:22)

Faith is never just an intellectual exercise; it is always a matter of the heart.

The Good News for us today is that the same God, the same “I am” who delivered our ancestors, and who lived among us in the flesh as Jesus, is right here with us today:

in the fifth month of a pandemic that has asked us all to stay safer at home and wear masks to reduce the spread of the virus;
in the disruption of businesses and employment;
in the uncertainty for students, teachers, parents and administrators preparing for a new school year.
In the boredom and exhaustion, and in the fear and unanswered questions, God is with us through it all.

This story of the disciples does makes me ask though, where has my uncertainty and fear kept me from seeing God’s presence in my life and in the world around me? When have I forgotten that I have witnessed God’s good in the world?  

As we go about our lives this week, may we experience Jesus’ words for us: “Be of good courage, beloved,” God is right here, within arm’s reach.”

Let us pray…
Good and gracious God,
Thank you for your forgiveness and mercy even when obstacles keep us from seeing you and we forget how near you are.
Thank you for your Son Jesus who shows us your steadfast presence and love.
Open our hearts to the good we witness in the world and show us where we can participate in your kingdom even now.
We pray in the name of your Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus.
Amen.  

[i] Karoline D. Lewis. “Dear Working Preacher”, Luther Seminary.

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