After the five thousand had eaten and were satisfied, Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and precede him to the other side toward Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. And when he had taken leave of them, he went off to the mountain to pray. When it was evening, the boat was far out on the sea and he was alone on shore. Then he saw that they were tossed about while rowing, for the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them walking on the sea. He meant to pass by them. But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out. They had all seen him and were terrified. But at once he spoke with them, "Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid!" He got into the boat with them and the wind died down. They were completely astounded. They had not understood the incident of the loaves. On the contrary, their hearts were hardened.As 2019 came to an end, I returned to the previous reflections on fear we shared and I spent some time wondering if we had explored enough of the darkened nooks and crannies of fear to have some assurance the topic of fear received a thorough enough examination. As I re-read the previous explored the previous posts, I felt I had a sense of closure, not that fear won't always be ready for more attention. Something had been left unsaid so I needed to open the lid and take another look in the barrel.
As has long been my custom, I like to keep an eye on the Wednesday daily readings and in doing so I found, purely by happenstance, today's reading in the lectionary. Since there are no coincidences in this world, I decided to spend some time pulling the passage apart. The general theme is, of course, is fear. I quickly realized there was something more in this passage than we found in prior readings, something much more powerful and right on point.
Let's start with setting the stage. The previous reading, in the style of Mark, breathlessly and with great urgency told the story of the feeding of the five thousand, something that clearly warranted telling with dramatic flair since it was a miracle that happened in plain sight of thousands.
Consider first the crowd. Here they were, sitting in rows jammed side by side on a hill overlooking the water. They heard teachings the likes of which they had never heard of proclaimed with confidence, authority and power. What they heard was nothing less than revolutionary. As the day grew late, they grew hungry so a wondrous rabbi worked a miracle that brings the story of the Hanukkah to mind right in front of them. Just as one day's oil somehow lasted for 8 days, food enough for only for a dozen became a meal for the multitudes. Would they not expect more from this unknown master after seeing what they saw? If I were in the crowd, I certainly would have expected to crown him a king so he could open a can of whoopy on the Roman overlords. The Lord spoke of love and salvation. They heard that but somehow turned the words into a call for rebellion and that is not what the Lord in mind at all. Not even close.
Consider next the disciples. They had seen miracles before but the miracles were small in terms of the number of people who were impacted or witnessed the event. This was big, huge beyond any possible understanding and it happened right in front of them. Not just that, they took part in the miracle as they distributed fish and bread from an un-exhaustible supply. It is almost the exact same thing we experience as Eucharistic ministers. If I were present I might have been doing a Carlton dance and high fiving the other guys, boasting noisily about this righteous dude we were hooked up with. A display of power like they encountered had to have been life altering. It should have been life altering but when we read this passage further I have to wonder it was.
We learn that Jesus made the disciples get in a boat and precede him over the water about 5 miles away to Bethsaida. Why? No doubt it was to keep them away from the 5 thousand who might have gone from well fed to being well stirred up with an eye toward causing rebellion. It makes sense. Get them in a boat and get them the heck out of there. Keep in mind some of the guys were fisherman so they knew a thing or two about boats and how to make them move.
As for Jesus himself, he went off to the mountain to pray. Doing so would have also allow him to escape the potentially dangerous crowds but to also seek communion with the Father. This is something we see over and over again throughout the ministry of Jesus. He immerses himself teaching, preaching and drawing multitudes to himself and then withdrawing into silence, solitude and stillness to renew and recharge with new energy granted from the Father. While this is a topic to explore for another day, is this not an example for us? Contemplation and prayer is not intended to create only more of contemplation and prayer but is, instead a call to action. This flies contrary to my current desire to simply melt deeper into the silence of mysticism.
I want to take a pause for a moment in the narrative to dream up the reality of the moment for disciples as the night unfolded. We read, "When it was evening, the boat was far out on the sea and he was alone on shore." Is this not our greatest fear? To be far out to sea being tossed about by winds and waves we can only see when they break over the bow of our oh so tiny boat? How alone they must have felt even if they were in the company of others. I would have wondered how we got in a place of such peril. As an act of obedience I got in a boat to follow what should have been a simple request, row from here over to there. As an experienced sailor, I would have not been worried at all. But then when the waves kicked up so high the shore disappeared from sight, I would not have just been terrified but also infuriated that obedience was rewarded with the horror of going down with a capsized boat.
I could stop right there and ponder that moment for a long, long time. In fact, I have I have wrestled with and been paralyzed by the twin dragons of fear and anger. It is a story I know so well I can tell it from memory and also tell it in a way that will make you believe the story is your own too. Perhaps it is. But this place should not be the end of the story, there is more to come. Fear and anger can be overcome by the sure and certain knowledge that there is no storm so great our Lord can't see us through to the other side.
Take a breath so we can continue.
Ok. Let's go at it again.
Then he saw that they were tossed about while rowing, for the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them walking on the sea.
As is always the case, He sees us first and knows our needs before we can open our minds to the possibility He will deliver us from our perils even if it may be in ways we can't predict or even comprehend when deliverance arrives. Remember the Father in the Prodigal Son story? He saw his son coming from far away and ran out to greet him. Here Jesus as the second face of the Holy Trinity walked on water out to meet the disciples.
Next we read the most perplexing sentence in the whole passage, "He meant to pass by them."
He MEANT to pass them by? What! Our Lord, our Savior, means to pass us by at the exact time we need him most? How can this be? Is He going to let us go to wrack and ruin a second time? As I work on this further, I find myself turning back to the Prodigal Son. What is the very next thing that happens after the father runs out to the greet the son?
Something so subtle we can just take in the words and move on without a second thought but it is of huge significance. The son reaches out to him in sorrow and grief for his horrific sins against the father. What happens next could never happen without the actions of the son to speak out in supplication. Only because the son spoke first, the father could then embrace the son with love and gift grace on the son, returning him to a place of honor in the family. The son asked the father for help. The father responded to the request.
So does the Lord pass them by and leave them to their own efforts unaided? No. The disciples call out in terror because even though they plainly see Jesus, they don't recognize him and think he is a ghost. That might seem normal enough. After all who would ever expect to see a man walking on water in the midst of the turmoil of a storm. I would not nor would you but does that let any of us, even the disciples off the hook? No. The passage begins with the feeding of the 5 thousand, a miracle they participated in as it happened. Why would it be so difficult to expect a man who could work a miracle of with loaves and fishes not also be able to whip a little calm into a little old storm? Rather than taking them to task for the lack of faith and recognition, he comforted them by saying something that should be familiar to us all. He said, "Take courage, it is I." In reality what he said, "I am." Remember when Moses asked God what he should tell the people of Israel when they asked who spoke to him and God said , "Tell them, I am."
"I am."
"Fear not. I am."
We know this. We believe this but we cannot, or at least I, cannot live it.
We fear. The passage reads that rather then understand the message of the loaves and fishes, we miss the point. Our hearts are hardened. Every day, in every different way we can fall prey to fear, the kind of fear that leads to awe and the desire to embrace but fear as in terror that causes us to recoil, to turn away, to separate and that is when we sin. We next repent and we are forgiven and for a moment, or for a day we relax, and live in peace and with a little glimpse of joy that awaits us.
Inevitably we get in the boat and row into the night and a great storm falls on us and we are struck with panic, anxiety and concern. If we ask for help, the night will yield to the day, the storm will pass and we will offer gratitude. We must offer gratitude. It is all we have to offer back as thanks for the gifts from the great I am.
Because I live with fear as an integral part of myself and is my motivation to find comfort in the Lord, fear will be with me always. It is my cross. For others of you, you bear the same burden. The rest of you give comfort to those of us who turn away from the path before us because we don't know what awaits. It is why we live in community, in communion, to serve each other. Fear drives me to speak out about what threatens me, to give it an name that I might give it to the Lord and let Him relieve the fear. My words are intended to be a blessing for you who hear them. My strength comes from my weakness. Take my hand and let us share strength and weakness that one might conquer the other. Let's sing a joyful song of delivery even if is only for that one single moment or day.
Let us love and serve the Lord through our love and service to each other.
Remember. "Fear not, I am."
