Sunday, August 9, 2020
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Matthew 14:22-33
Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Right after seminary, I got a church job and moved into a huge parsonage. It was built in the 1920s in the Dutch Colonial style and had four livable floors. But on the day I moved in, just as soon as my friends had brought in the last box and left, I was suddenly afraid to be there by myself. True, it was an old house. It creaked and groaned. But it was more than that. There was an uneasiness there.
Eventually, I got a dog. But that didn’t really help because she began to bark at things I could not see. She would growl at empty corners, the hair standing straight up on her back. One night while I was brushing my teeth in the upstairs bathroom, I heard party noises: glasses clinking, music, laughter. Convinced I had left the television on, I went downstairs to discover… that nothing was on; the house was completely quiet and dark. A friend of mine who is attuned to such strange things declared that my house had a presence. Not long thereafter, I started to sleep with the bedroom door locked. And I was afraid of that house until the day I moved out of it.
That house is long gone from my life, but my deep-seated fear of the boogey man is still around. I think it is for lots of people, although most folks are remiss to admit it. It’s been a long time since they peered under their beds or looked behind the shower curtain, but they’re afraid, none-the-less. Fear, like guilt, is the gift that keeps on giving. We live with fear – either acknowledged or ignored. We run from it as often as we can. We medicate ourselves with booze and shopping and doom scrolling just to avoid it. But some days, we just can’t run fast enough.
Last Sunday, we heard about Jesus feeding the 5000 with the bread of compassion. You will remember that he had been trying to get some down time, but the crowds found him anyway. But now, at last, with their bellies full, Jesus was going to get the break he needed. He even sent his disciples away in a boat so he could finally be by himself. And then, just to make sure he would have some solitude, he climbed a mountain to rest and talk to God.
Now maybe the disciples had hoped for some downtime too. A peaceful row across the sea under the stars might just do the trick. But that night, there were no stars. Instead, a ferocious and terrifying storm suddenly arose.
Storms are actually quite common on the Sea of Galilee, which is actually just a big lake. And they always seem to come out of nowhere. They’re caused by the peculiar topography of a shallow body of water surrounded by mountains. The wind rushes down the mountains, is forced through tiny openings in the hills and ravines, and then concentrated, blows out upon the shallow water with great force, resulting in sudden tempests. And that is exactly what happened on that night. And it scared the disciples to death.
And if that were not bad enough, just before the sun came up, a lone figure came toward them, walking on the water. And not knowing who or what it was, they assumed it was the boogey man. And Matthew reports that they cried out in fear – grown men, reduced to blubbering, terrified children. Fear has a way of doing that.
Of course, it wasn’t the boogey man. It was Jesus. And Jesus, seeing and hearing their fear, quickly moved to reassure them, saying: "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."
These words, “Do not be afraid” or “fear not” are found more than 100 times in the pages of Scripture. These are very often the first words out of an angel’s mouth. Abraham, Moses, Mary, Joseph, shepherds in the fields, Saint Paul in jail, the women at the empty tomb all heard the same words: “Do not be afraid.” And now Jesus speaks these words to his terrified friends.
The disciples heard the words, but given their present circumstances, were not at all sure that they could be trusted. Likewise, we hear the words, but are often not sure if they can be trusted. We need proof. The disciples needed proof. And so impetuous Peter, God love him, decided to test the waters, so to speak. And he said: “If it’s really you, Jesus, then let me walk on the water too. And Jesus replied: “Come on.”
Peter put a tentative foot outside the boat. And lo and behold, he did not sink. Then he was completely out of the boat and walking toward Jesus, and still, he did not sink. In fact, everything was fine until he actually thought about what he was doing. And he remembered why he had been afraid because the waves were still ferocious. And as his fears rose, his body sank. “Help me, Lord!” he cried. And Jesus took him by the hand, and pulled him up from the angry sea. He asked Peter why he had doubted, and then put him back into the boat. And it was only after this that the storm stopped.
Ancient Palestinian people were especially terrified of the sea. For them, it represented all that was dark and foreboding, all that was chaotic and consuming. That is likely why in the book of Revelation we are told that in the new heaven and new earth, the sea is no more. It’s a symbolic way of saying that in God’s kingdom chaos and destruction have no place. In God’s kingdom, no one gets lost in the depths.
We may not share their fear of the sea, but we too are terrified of the chaos of life. Our world is covered with the deep and dark waters of division, and war, and disease, persistent poverty, and a suffering planet, and open discrimination, and hatred on parade. And sometimes we fear we will perish in these waters.
And yet, Jesus says to us, “Do not be afraid.”
What on earth can that mean in such a fearful world? Is Jesus suggesting mind over matter? Is it, as our critics say, an invitation to magical thinking? Or is it a denial of the physical world? When Jesus invites us to fear not, what is he actually asking us to do?
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was on my way to work in Manhattan. Just before I walked out the door, I had watched a plane hit the second tower on a live newscast. And yet I refused to believe that it could be that bad. And so, I left for work. The whole city was sea of chaos. The subways were not running, but the buses were – very, very slowly. And so, I got on one, determined to get to work.
Periodically, the bus driver would come on the intercom to give us updates: the planes were passenger planes, he said. The Pentagon had been hit; the White House was evacuated. And with each announcement, the waves of my fears rose. Finally, when I could no longer deny the ferocity of that storm, I leaned my head against the bus window and closed my eyes against my tears. And then I began to pray with ancient and wise words, because I had none. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want… Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” And with those words, I simply did what the faithful have always been called upon to do when great and fearful storms arise. I flung myself upon the mercy of God and put my whole trust in God alone.
The invitation to not be afraid is not an invitation to deny the pain of the world and the pain of our lives. It is not some spiritual hocus-pocus that will protect us like a talisman from the storms of life. Instead, it is an invitation to do what Peter did – to grab hold of the hand of Jesus and to trust that he will never let you go, even when the chaos is up to your neck. That One has promised never to leave us, never to forsake - come hell or high water.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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