The day had not started well. Jesus had just heard the news. His cousin John, whom his mother had felt quicken in the womb–that first kick!–was dead. Dead. Herod Antipas had ordered him killed, for a lark, for a trick, to show off to his guests–and to his trophy wife and her enchanting daughter. And so Jesus had reason to be disconsolate, and reason to be afraid.
He was not alone. No one would let him be.
Crowds gathered. They had heard the news too. John the Baptist, the one who heralded a new day for Israel, had been executed. The powers of this world were strong. And so they came to Jesus. The new shepherd. The good shepherd. Can you feed us?
5000 people. Looking for hope. And hungry.
He did feed them - or rather, taught them that their Father did.
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…”
Sit down. And they sat down.
Share what you have. And they broke the bread, and shared it out.
And soon all were well fed, and hope restored.
“He restoreth my soul…”
And maybe that is a miracle too. For he turned their hearts as he turned his own, from fear to faith. Dread walked the earth, but they were no longer afraid.
Jesus’ disciples were exultant. They were released from anxiety and felt ! like ! kings !
He sent them ahead of him, across the lake. And off they went, fresh from the miraculous meal, with full hearts, and a good star to guide them. Singing they rowed and gladly they sailed, waving goodbye: see you on the other shore, Jesus.
He was ashore. Alone. Silence, in the breeze. And he went up the hill. Maybe on top he’d recall the blessings he’d once preached there, the happiness of the poor, the blessedness of those who seek God. Quiet, and remembering. And then, full of his Father’s new sense of purpose, he left off grieving, and sought out the others, his friends.
They were out on the sea by now. It was getting rough. And they did not expect him to come to them as he did.
So they may have felt a sudden chill.
Remember John the Baptist was just dead. Fearsome forces were at work. And now like the ghost of Banquo or the spirit of Hamlet’s Father, a figure came to them - across the water.
It’s me, boys. Don’t worry.
Gathering up his courage Peter called: if it is you, call me to come to you. (No ghost would do that, right?)
And Jesus said, what he always said: Come.
What is there to do but follow?
And out onto the water he came, Peter, Rock of the Disciples, faithful … to a point. The wind was sharp and he felt it cut through his warm heart.
Jesus, save me!
And Jesus did. What he always did. He brought peace to a troubled and fearful situation. Come. Do not fear. I am with you.
He reached out his hand to Peter and raised him up, and they got into the boat together. The wind dropped at last. You really are God’s Son, aren’t you? And they were no longer afraid.
It is the Lord. It is God, who moved, his Spirit a breath upon the waves, as he ordered the chaos at the beginning of Genesis. It is God, who moved, his voice like the sound of sheer silence, as Elijah waited in the cave. It is God, who came, in the fulfillment of his Word, walking on the water, smoothing the chop and quelling the storm.
It is now … that time. The always time. The time of chaos, worry, uncertainty. The age of anxiety. When the ways of this world and its rulers are not enough.
And this is that time, the time when we turn to God, again. For peace. We shall listen to what the Lord is saying. Words of peace and not of fear. Righteousness and peace shall kiss each other, and this world’s woes will be brought to an end.
JRL+
(Matthew 14:22-33, Psalm 23, Psalm 85:8-13.)
A Storm (Shipwreck), 1823 - J.M.W. Turner
Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 14 - Year A
