Proper 14, Year A, 2023: Matthew 14:22-33

One of my favorite things about knowing both of a child’s parents is seeing both of them in their child. It’s like a multicolored dress, where if you wear it with the red sweater all of the red pops, but if you wear it with the blue sweater, you see all of the blue in the pattern and not so much of the red - it’s is still there, you just can’t see it as clearly. That’s the way it is with my 4-year-old. If you see her next to her dad, she looks so much like him. If you see her next to me, she is very clearly my child.

We see the same kind of thing with the dual natures of Jesus: that he is at the same time fully human and fully divine. We see both of these natures throughout Matthew chapter 14. It begins with an account of the beheading of John the Baptist and of John’s disciples telling Jesus the news. After hearing the news, Jesus wants to do the very human act of mourning his friend out of the public eye. But the crowds followed him. He cured their sick, and then tried to send the crowds away again but they were hungry. So Jesus fed the 5000, and immediately made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead, dismissed the crowds, and went up the mountain to pray. By himself. Finally. And that is where today’s gospel lesson picks up. Matthew is making a transition into a story that is not about the human Jesus, or about the somewhere in between human and divine, but is about the fully divine Jesus.

The disciples take off in their boat. It’s not clear how Jesus is supposed to follow them alone. Many of the disciples are fishermen and are therefore competent when it comes to boats, but leaving one person whose family trade is carpentry alone to meet them isn’t a great plan. It turns out Jesus doesn’t need the boat, but Jesus walking on the water is so much more than a neat and convenient trick. The water, even for fishermen, was scary. It was unpredictable. And this is a time before waterproof sealant, life jackets, and Red Cross certified lifeguards. You go overboard during a storm and you are, in all likelihood, out of luck. Jesus, in putting the water under his feet, is showing mastery of and control over chaos.

Fear is a reasonable response to this. But when the disciples cry out in fear, Jesus does NOT say, “It is I,” Jesus says “I am”. In the same way that the Lord told Moses, “I am who I am” and to tell the Israelites that “I am has sent me to you”. In the same way that, in the Gospel of John when Jesus is betrayed in the garden, he asks the soldiers “who are you looking for?” they answer, “Jesus of Nazareth” and in the same way as Jesus does not say “it is I,” Jesus does NOT say “I am he,” as the New Revised Standard Version translation reads. It is wrong. He says, “ego eimi,” which roughly translates to “I, I am”, after which they step back and fall to the ground - not because he identifies himself as Jesus of Nazareth, but because he identifies himself as I AM.  The text is translated in English to make it read more smoothly and in so doing, we miss the true power of what Jesus is really saying. The story of the Exodus is foundational to Judaism. The original readers of Matthew would have noticed that Jesus is completely at ease, walking ON TOP OF water - choppy water at that, and saying “I am”. It’s about as subtle as a battle ax.

With all of this information, Peter’s clarification is almost silly. “Lord, if it is you…” But in Peter’s defense, what a thing to witness. People get in trouble throughout the gospels by testing Jesus. It usually starts with “if you are the Son of God…” But that isn’t what Peter is doing. It feels more like an “are my eyes deceiving me?” like he’s saying, “Lord if it is really you that I am looking at, do this thing that I know you can do.” It’s like having a code word to pick up your kids. It’s like Peter is thinking, “I know I can do this with Jesus, but let’s make sure it’s really Jesus before I get out of this boat.”

20some years ago there was a bestselling book called If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat. I love that sentiment. Maybe all of the disciples thought it would be cool to walk on water. But Peter, even though he eventually sank, was the one to call to Jesus and get out of the boat. It was really some good work by Peter. He made sure it was really Jesus that he saw, and then listened when Jesus called. If Jesus hadn’t wanted Peter to get out of the boat, he would’ve pushed back on Peter’s request. Jesus isn’t known for his shyness. So Peter started doing what Jesus told him to do, but then he noticed how frightening it was. How alone and inadequate he felt. And he forgot that he was moving towards Jesus. Instead he was distracted by the strong wind, and the boat seemed like a much better place to be. 

Peter often serves as the everyman in these stories. He is all in, but he is also only human. He is committed, rash, cowardly, and eager. Aren’t we all. And so there’s so much we can learn from Peter’s response to Jesus. He starts strong, by making sure it’s Jesus calling to him. He doesn’t rush out of the boat. He doesn’t rely on his own power. He wants to do something and asks Jesus what Jesus would have him do. Which is great when Jesus is right in front of you.

We don’t have that luxury. We can’t look Jesus in the face and say, “if you say so, I’ll do this.” So what can we do? First, we have to have patience. We have to be ready for it to take a minute to reach an answer. And sometimes that minute can last weeks, months, or even more.  We spend time in prayer, alone and with one another, and in conversation with other trusted siblings in Christ as we discern what Jesus is calling us to do.

When in discernment for holy orders in the Episcopal Church, a Parish Discernment committee is formed to help with the process. What that entails differs from diocese to diocese, but generally it’s a group of folks from the parish who get together for prayer and discussion as you try, as a group, to discern where God is calling the person potentially seeking holy orders. In my sponsoring diocese, the diocese has trained facilitators who run the committee meetings. For the first meeting, the facilitator trains the committee. To do that, they ask you to find a guinea pig - someone else in the parish who is working to discern something else in their life. For my committee, my friend "Adam" agreed to be our guinea pig. Adam was a government employee - not rare in northern Virginia, where we lived. On top of that, he was a political appointee, which means the longest he’d be in any job was about eight years. Adam came to the group with the question of what he was called to do next professionally. He could be open with this group of people he knew, people that he knew cared about him, his wife, and his children. He shared with us his struggles with the uncertainty of his professional life and whether he was called to stay in his line of work. Was he really feeling called to make a change or was he scared - or both? As we were asking questions and listening to Adam, I could see Adam relax as he put his feelings into words, and we could feel the Spirit present as we talked and prayed together. It was such a meaningful way of discerning what Adam was being called to do. And, it made me think: why is this only a thing for people considering ordained ministry?

Once we think we have a good idea what Jesus is calling us to do, how do we respond to that call? We get out of the boat! Sometimes the boat is in a swimming pool. What Jesus is calling us to do is to teach Sunday School. To run for Vestry. To volunteer at a food bank. That boat isn’t too intimidating and if we sink, heck, we might even be in the shallow end and can walk on out. But what about the things Jesus is calling us to do that aren’t easy? A major life change? To change a career or vocation? To be a caretaker, whether personally or professionally. To give more of ourselves than we may feel prepared to give. To walk away from a toxic or abusive relationship. Now, our boat is in those stormy waters. The wind is almost knocking us over as the sea water sprays against our face as we ask again, Jesus, are you sure? Slipping and sinking has some major ramifications here…

At the end of the story, Jesus helps Peter get back in the boat. Yes Peter’s back where he started, but everything has changed. Jesus, the I AM, is there alongside him. And as soon as they get in the boat, the wind stops - the chaotic wind, like the chaotic water, is again no match for Jesus. Amen.