Image: Night Passage, ©Jan Richardson.
August 10, 2014
Faith,
in essence, is not about religion.
What
I mean by that is that the depth of our faith can=t
be measured by what prayers we say or how often we say them.
Whether
we end up here on Sunday or down the street at Grafton Baptist Church isn=t what makes us faithful.
Bottom
line, as protestant as it might sound, our Catholic church teaches that our
faith is determined by our relationship with our Lord.
By
definition, it must start as a very personal thing because our Lord sees each
and every one of us as we are; unique, lovable.
Our
Lord=s knowledge
of each of us is personal, his concern for each of us is personal, and his call
to each of us is personal.
He
can be found, recognized, and responded to.
This
Gospel reading for this Sunday, is an eloquent treatment of just that notion.
In
so many places in Scripture the sea, a stormy, unruly sea, is used as a symbol
of the world:
life,
without God.
The
apostles have been separated from Christ, they are alone in their boat, and the
sea, the world without Christ, is stormy and chaotic.
So
much so that they are about to be overcome by it.
Then
Christ is pictured as mastering the storm.
He
literally walks over it.
Peter
saw Christ looking at him through the storm, and became confident that together
with Christ, he, too, would be able to overcome the chaos that seemed to
surround him.
Peter
said, "Lord, tell me to come to you."
And
so he did, he held out his hand to Peter.
And
here Matthew describes beautifully something at least of what St. Paul would
later call the contradiction, the foolishness of Christianity.
Before
you can walk on the water, you gotta get out of the boat.
Before
Peter could benefit from Christ's power, he would have to step out of whatever
had been holding him up until then,
he
would have to risk walking away from what seemed to be so safe and secure and
reasonable.
And
for us, too, that is the hard part.
Getting
out of the boat.
Putting
aside the false dependencies, the securities, all the ways that we think we can
make ourselves immune from chaos.
Materialism
is a popular boat.
What
could be a better barrier against the chaos than money and the things and the
power it can buy.
Any
number of dependencies can float us along for a while.
Drugs,
alcohol, pleasure, the need for acceptance.
Even
the human relationships in our lives can be a dependency, an influence that
keeps us from hearing Christ's call.
So
can laziness, the habits we build of not responding, not involving ourselves.
So
can fear, perhaps even more so than anything else.
Matthew's
intricate symbolism this weekend is clear and eloquent.
Christ
is very near.
He
is standing at the edge of our own personal storm, calling us.
But
in order to respond we must ignore the storm, look down at the boat, name it,
and climb out.
That=s the test of our faith.
If
we can let go of what=s
holding us back,
And
climb out of that boat.
And,
if we sink?
Well,
that=s the
stuff of another homily perhaps.
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