19th Sunday
in Ordinary Time – Year A
Matthew 14:22-33
First reading – 1 Kings 19:9,11-13
The Lord was not in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire
Second reading – Romans 9:1-5
I would willingly be condemned if it could help my brothers
Gospel – Matthew 14:22-33
Jesus walks on the water
Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he would send the crowds away. After sending the crowds away he went up into the hills by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, while the boat, by now far out on the lake, was battling with a heavy sea, for there was a head-wind. In the fourth watch of the night he went towards them, walking on the lake, and when the disciples saw him walking on the lake they were terrified. ‘It is a ghost’ they said, and cried out in fear. But at once Jesus called out to them, saying, ‘Courage! It is I! Do not be afraid.’ It was Peter who answered. ‘Lord,’ he said ‘if it is you, tell me to come to you across the water.’ ‘Come’ said Jesus. Then Peter got out of the boat and started walking towards Jesus across the water, but as soon as he felt the force of the wind, he took fright and began to sink. ‘Lord! Save me!’ he cried. Jesus put out his hand at once and held him. ‘Man of little faith,’ he said ‘why did you doubt?’ And as they got into the boat the wind dropped. The men in the boat bowed down before him and said, ‘Truly, you are the Son of God.’
BEFORE WE SINK
It’s surprising the significance that the story of the storm on the lake of Galilee has taken on in these times of religious crisis. Matthew describes the situation in clear terms: Jesus’ disciples are alone, «far from solid land», in the middle of the insecurity of the sea; the boat is «tossed about by the waves», overcome by adverse forces, «headwinds», everything going against them; it’s «pitch black”, the darkness keeps them from seeing the horizon.
Thus are living quite a few believers at this moment. There’s no security or religious certainty; everything has become obscure and doubtful. Religion is subjected to all kinds of accusations and suspicions. There’s talk of Christianity as a «terminal religion» that belongs to the past, they say that we are entering a «post-Christian era» (E. Poulat). In some people the question arises: isn’t religion an unreal dream, an ingenious myth called on to disappear? This is the disciples’ cry when they make out Jesus in the midst of the storm: «It’s a ghost».
Jesus’ reaction is immediate: «Courage! It’s me! Don’t be afraid». Strengthened by these words, Peter makes Jesus an outrageous request: «Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you across the water». He doesn’t know if Jesus is a ghost or something real, but he wants to prove that he can walk toward him, walking not on solid ground, but on the water, no
being supported by safe arguments, but in the weakness of faith.
Thus a believer lives out her attachment to Christ in moments of crisis and darkness. We don’t know if Christ is a ghost or something alive and real, raised by the Father for our salvation. We don’t have scientific arguments to prove it, but we know by experience that one can walk through life sustained by faith in him and in his word.
It’s not easy to live from this naked faith. The Gospel story tells us that Peter «notices the wind», «takes fright» and «begins to sink». It’s a well-known process: notice only the power of evil, let ourselves be paralyzed by fear, and sink into hopelessness.
Peter reacts, and before going completely under, cries out: «Lord, save me!». Faith is often a cry, a plea, a call to God: «Lord, save me!». Without knowing how or why, it’s possible at that moment to perceive Christ as a hand stretched out to sustain our faith and save us, saying just then: «You have so little faith, why did you doubt?».
José Antonio Pagola
Translator: Fr. Jay VonHandorf
https://www.gruposdejesus.com
Take heart, it is I
This Sunday’s Gospel passage (see Mt 14:22-33) speaks of Jesus walking on the water of the stormy lake. After feeding the crowds with five loaves and two fish – as we saw last Sunday – Jesus commands the disciples to get into the boat and return to the other shore. He dismisses the people and then climbs the hill, alone, to pray. He immerses Himself in communion with the Father.
During the crossing of the lake by night, the disciples’ boat is hindered by a sudden wind storm. This is normal on a lake. At a certain point, they see someone walking on the water, coming toward them. Upset, they think it is a ghost and cry out in fear. Jesus reassures them: “Take heart, it is I; have no fear”. Then Peter – Peter who was so decisive – answers: “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water”. A challenge. And Jesus tells him: “Come”. Peter gets out of the boat and takes a few steps; then the wind and waves frighten him and he begins to sink. “Lord, save me”, he cries, and Jesus grasps him by the hand and says to him: “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?”.
This Gospel narrative is an invitation to abandon ourselves trustingly to God in every moment of our life, especially in the moment of trial and turmoil. When we have strong feelings of doubt and fear and we seem to be sinking, in life’s difficult moments where everything becomes dark, we must not be ashamed to cry out like Peter: “Lord, save me” (v. 30). To knock on God’s heart, on Jesus’s heart. “Lord, save me.” It is a beautiful prayer! We can repeat it many times. “Lord, save me.” And Jesus’s gesture, who immediately reaches out His hand and grasps that of His friend, should be contemplated at length: this is Jesus. Jesus does this. Jesus is the Father’s hand who never abandons us, the strong and faithful hand of the Father, who always and only wants what is good for us. God is not in the loud sound, God is not the hurricane, He is not in the fire, He is not in the earthquake – as the narrative about the Prophet Elijah also recalls today that says God is the light breeze – literally it says this: He is in the “ thread of melodious silence” – that never imposes itself, but asks to be heard (see 1 Kgs 19:11-13). Having faith means keeping your heart turned to God, to His love, to His Fatherly tenderness, amid the storm. Jesus wanted to teach this to Peter and the disciples, and also to us today. In dark moments, in sad moments He is well aware that our faith is weak –all of us are people of little faith, all of us, myself included, everyone – and that our faith is weak our journey can be troubled, hindered by adverse forces. But He is the Risen One! Let’s not forget this: He is the Lord who passed through death in order to lead us to safety. Even before we begin to seek Him, He is present beside us lifting us back up after our falls, He helps us grow in faith. Maybe in the dark, we cry out: “Lord, Lord!” thinking He is far away. And He says, “I am here.” Ah, He was with me! That is the Lord.
The boat at the mercy of the storm is the image of the Church, which in every age encounters
headwinds, very harsh trials at times: we recall certain long and ferocious persecutions of the last century and even today in certain places. In situations like that, she may be tempted to think that God has abandoned her. But in reality it is precisely in those moments that the witness of faith, the witness of love, the witness of hope shines the most. It is the presence of the Risen Christ in His Church that gives the grace of witness unto martyrdom, from which buds new Christians and fruit of reconciliation and peace for the entire world.
May the intercession of Mary help us to persevere in faith and fraternal love when the darkness and storms of life place our trust in God in crisis.
Pope Francis
Angelus 9th August 2020
GOSPEL REFLECTION
“Get up and eat, for the journey is too long for you,” the angel of the Lord said to Elijah fleeing into the wilderness. “The prophet stood up, ate and drank and on the force of that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God” (1K 19:7-8).
To this famous story of the gift of bread and water by the angel to Elijah, the revelation of the Lord narrated in the First Reading followed.
In the Gospel passage, the scene is repeated. The disciples, nourished with the bread offered by Jesus (Mt 14:13-20), now receive the order to get moving, to get into the boat to the other side. Like Elijah, a revelation of the Lord awaits them.
There are several strange details in this episode. It’s not easy to find a reason for the order given by Jesus. Why does he let them go by themselves? Where must they go at this hour? Why doesn’t he go with them? Why does it take them too long to cross the lake? I do not think it’s because of the bad weather that he calmly goes up the mountain to pray and stay there until towards morning (v. 25). The claim of Peter to walk on the water is especially striking and—in the case of a proven swimmer—his fear of drowning (Jn 21:7).
These unique details make the exegete suspicious. They are an invitation to approach the passage with caution because it is not the story of a miracle, but a page of theology written with biblical images.
Some of these images are well known. The darkness of the night, first of all, is present, with its charge of negative meanings, in a number of Old Testament texts. Recall, for example, the psalmist who, on the night of his pain cries out to God without finding rest (Ps 22:3). It is with this darkness that the disciples are to confront themselves. When evening came, Jesus “forces them” (this is the verb used in the original text) to get into the boat and head to the “other side.” One gets the impression that they are reluctant and that they would like to stay next to the Master. However he, after having fed them with his bread, wants them to leave, to undertake the dangerous journey alone. The food he gave them is his Word and his own person present in the sacrament of the Eucharist. Nourished by this dual bread, they have the necessary strength to accomplish the difficult crossing.
If Jesus was visibly present on the boat, the darkness would disappear; instead, the darkness is thick.
When evening came (v. 13) indicates, in the symbolic language of the evangelist, the conclusion of Jesus’ day. It is the end of his life. It is the moment in which he “climbs the mountain” alone, moves away from the crowds and definitely enters the world of God. This is why the disciples find themselves in the dark. Darkness is the image of disorientation, doubt that captures even the most convinced believer. At times, even one who is driven by a strong faith feels alone. He undergoes the harrowing experience of God’s silence and wonders if his choices, his sacrifices, his commitment to the good have a sense.
Then there is the headwind. The Israelites have had the experience of the “mighty wind unleashed over the desert” that strikes and brings down the house (Job 1:19). They know the “east wind that shatters the ships”(Ps 48:8) and the “tempestuous wind” which whips up the waves, shakes ships plunging them to the depths, reeling like drunkards, in spite of all their seamanship (Ps 107:26-27).
The author of the Letter to the Ephesians employs this image to describe the senseless reasoning of people, the mentality of this world opposite to that of Christ. To the Christians of his communities Paul recalls: “Then no longer shall we be like children tossed about by any wave or wind of doctrine and deceived by the cunning of people” (Eph 4:14).
The waters were, in the Old Testament, images to describe the forces that lead to death. The psalmist, afflicted by a serious illness that is leading him to the grave, cries out to the Lord: “From above, reach down and draw me out of the deep waters” (Ps 144:7); another, having been healed, says: “A deadly flood surrounded me, devilish torrents rushed at me … Reaching down from above, he drew me out of the deep waters” (Ps 18:5,17). The Lord promises to his people: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, the rivers will not sweep over you” (Is 43:2).
The Israelites were always afraid of waters. They said, only the Lord is not afraid of whirlwinds and storms.He who, by his word, separated the “waters below and the waters above it” (Gen 1:7). He alone can “hush the billows to silent waves” (Ps 107:25-30); and he is the only one who “treads on the waves of the sea” (Job 9:8).
If one keeps in mind this symbolism, he understands the fear of the disciples. They fear of being overwhelmed by the forces of evil and death. They are in the dark and do not perceive the Master next to them. A dramatic situation, but inevitable, and they have to face it.
The boat was tossed about by the waves. The original text uses here the Greek verb basanizo which properly means “to put to the test.” The basanos was the hard stone used in Lydia in order to verify, through a violent friction, if a metal was valuable or worthless.
The waves torment almost torture the disciples, but they are the necessary tests they have to undergo if they want to get out of it maturely.
Towards the end of the night, Jesus appears, walking on the waves of the sea, as only God was capable of doing (Job 9:8). The disciples do not recognize him. They believe of having something to do with a ghost. Their reaction is really strange. What happened? Why can’t they recognize him?
We are not confronting a factual written account but a page of theology. Matthew is describing, with the biblical language, the situation of the Christian communities of his time. They were “tormented” by many trials, distressed by doubts and above all disoriented by the fact of not having the Master visibly with them, who would have infused safety and courage in them.
The evangelist wants to enlighten them. Jesus is always close to his disciples, even to the end of the world,as he has promised (Mt 28:20), but not physically, as when he walked the roads of Palestine. He is present in a different way, as a ghost. This is the pale image used in the Gospels to describe the Risen Lord and his new condition of life. When, on the day of Easter, he appears in the midst of the disciples gathered together, “in their panic and fright, they thought they were seeing a ghost” (Lk 24:37).
It’s not easy to be aware of his presence. He becomes recognizable only with the eyes of faith.
The second part of the passage (vv. 28-33) contains the dialogue between Jesus and Peter. It starts with the request of the apostle: “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water” (v. 28). His question is odd, but only for one who takes it in a literal sense. If it is understood in the symbolic context of the whole story, then the meaning immediately comes out clear. Peter, the first of the disciples, beholds the Master—The Risen One—who crossed the waters of death, now walking on the sea, is in God’s world. Peter knows he is called to follow him in the gift of life, but death scares him. He fears of not succeeding and asks the Lord to give him strength.
As long as he keeps his eyes fixed on the Master, he is able to go to him. When his faith diminishes, when he begins to doubt the choice he made, he sinks and is afraid of being overwhelmed, of losing his life.
It is the description of our condition. “Come to me now—the Risen Lord repeats to every disciple. Do not be afraid of losing your life. If you hesitate, death will make you afraid. If you trust my word, the waters of death will not scare you, and you will cross over and catch up with me in the resurrection.”
READ: Jesus reaches out to the disciples in trouble, walking up to them on the water. Those in the boat bowed down before Jesus saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
REFLECT: Jesus asks Peter, “Why did you doubt?” Jesus challenges the sudden loss of faith of Peter in the midst of turbulence. What would God be asking us when we meet Him face- to-face?
PRAY: Let us ask God to probe our innermost being and lead us to conversion.
ACT: Today is a good day to make a confession of faith regarding who Jesus is for me. I will take some time and proclaim with my whole being that Jesus is my Lord and Savior.
Fernando Armellini
Italian missionary and biblical scholar
https://sundaycommentaries.wordpress.com
