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07 Aug 2011 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

We all have someone in our lives whom we think walks on water because of something he or she did for us or a loved one: the teacher who finally got through; the doctor who saved a life; the cop who came to the rescue; the counselor who helped turn things around; the friend who lent a helping hand; the lawyer who restored a good name; the neighbor with a generous spirit; the foe with a forgiving heart. One thing all of these water walkers have in common is the ability to bring order to a chaotic situation. The seas of our minds and hearts are roiling; we reach out; allow ourselves to trust; and are offered a sign of peace. Being dazed and confused, frightened and in pain is not how Jesus wants us to live. Think of the words of Jesus we repeat each time we gather at Eucharist: "My peace I leave you; my peace I give to you." Remember Christ's peace is yours for the taking. That is the miracle of Christian living. Problems and challenges don't disappear but our fear of them does. Instead of Peter's panic, "Lord, save me!"; our response can be modeled after Peter's faith, "Lord, command me to come to you." We can remain calm even in the midst of chaos. We can, in fact, walk on water. Believe that, and you will have plenty of peace to offer others.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

Peter walking on water chaos remain calm

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Exploring the word

13 Aug 2017 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

We find Jesus again where we encountered him last week—up a mountain, communing with God. This time he goes alone, sending his friends along ahead to the opposite shore. And, as usual, no sooner are his followers out on their own before they’re into trouble. Maybe this is why Jesus decides to remain with his church always, “yes, until the end of time!” Disciples don’t do so well when out of his company. The particular trouble they engage this week is what might be described as the waves of adversity. Biblical water is generally a shout-out to the original waters of chaos. The spirit of God moves over these waters in Genesis, and out of chaos, order emerges. Sin puts the potential for chaos back into the scenario of history, however. Far from shore on the waters of chaos, we can all find ourselves in real danger. Just as God moves over the original chaos to calm it, Jesus strolls across it to demonstrate his mastery. Imagine Jesus doing the same in whatever adverse situation in which you find yourself. Jesus, walking toward you when your child seems addicted to chaos. Jesus, headed your way across financial choppy waters. Jesus, marching resolutely through the waves of self-doubt, indecision, shame, or rage that threaten to drown you in your most important relationships. Jesus, seeking you out across the sea of loneliness, sickness, pain, or hopelessness. What are we to do as Jesus crosses an ocean of regrets to find and rescue us? Let’s use the disciples as negative examples. They see Jesus coming and are terrified. Seriously: Of all the things in this world to fear, the arrival of Jesus isn’t one of them! In the story, his friends next dismiss him as a ghost; it can’t really be Jesus, because no one can walk on water. If we understand anything from the gospels at all, it’s that Jesus can do a lot of things that are normally impossible. Peter then challenges Jesus to prove his identity by summoning Peter across the waters. This is called elsewhere “putting your Lord to the test”: Not a good idea. Jesus is up the challenge. Peter isn’t. Yikes. All of which leads to the repeated punch line of Matthew’s gospel: O you of little faith. Jesus says this five times, each in reference to the biggest obstacle disciples face in following him: our doubt. Doubt isn’t about not believing in the existence of God, or the divinity of Jesus, or the holiness of the church—the things we normally associate with a lack of faith. Doubt means not trusting in the relationship we have with Jesus. The waves are steep. Jesus is walking your way. Trust him! Related scripture links Christians as sojourners: 1 Pet. 2:11 God passing by: Gen. 3:8; Exod. 33:19, 22, 34:6 Walking on water as a divine action: Job 9:8, 38:16 Divine victory over the forces of the sea: Ps. 77:17-20; Isa. 43:16; Sir. 24:5-6; Mark 4:35-41;Matt. 8:23-27; Luke 8:22-25 I am he: Exod. 3:14; Deut. 32:39; Isa. 41:4, 43:10 Other walking on water stories: Mark 6:45-52; John 6:15-21 Catechism links Jesus and the storm: CCC 448; 2602 Salvation: CCC 55; 122-133; 161; 169

Authors Alice Camille

chaos adversity walking on water o you of little faith Doubt Trust

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Homily stories

09 Aug 2020 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

We all have someone in our lives whom we think walks on water because of something he or she did for us or a loved one: the teacher who finally got through; the doctor who saved a life; the cop who came to the rescue; the counselor who helped turn things around; the friend who lent a helping hand; the lawyer who restored a good name; the neighbor with a generous spirit; the foe with a forgiving heart. One thing all of these water walkers have in common is the ability to bring order to a chaotic situation. The seas of our minds and hearts are roiling; we reach out; allow ourselves to trust; and are offered a sign of peace. Being dazed and confused, frightened and in pain is not how Jesus wants us to live. Think of the words of Jesus we repeat each time we gather at Eucharist: “My peace I leave you; my peace I give to you.” Remember Christ’s peace is yours for the taking. That is the miracle of Christian living. Problems and challenges don’t disappear but our fear of them does. Instead of Peter’s panic, “Lord, save me!”; our response can be modeled after Peter’s faith, “Lord, command me to come to you.” We can remain calm even in the midst of chaos. We can, in fact, walk on water. Believe that, and you will have plenty of peace to offer others.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

walking on water christ's peace fears Saint Peter chaos

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Homily stories

03 Oct 2021 - Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B

I find Jesus’ pronouncement that the kingdom of God belongs to children both reassuring and frightening. It’s reassuring to think that less-than-perfect people, like you and me, will inherit heaven, those of us who are both adorable and infuriating, who whine, complain, dawdle, disobey, sass, and deceive, and who cuddle, cajole, trust, tease, laugh, love, console, and forgive over and over again. In other words, those with kind hearts, nasty tempers, and runny noses are all welcome at the table. The part I find frightening is spending eternity with a bunch of young children! I don’t think I have the stamina for that anymore. Pandemonium and chaos are all I envision. But I know the fear I’m feeling is exactly what Jesus is addressing in his command to let the children come to him. “Let go of the need to control,” is Jesus’ message to his disciples, then and now. ‘Don’t worry about the mess and confusion that comes with allowing other people—different and unpredictable people—into your life. You will be embraced and blessed beyond your wildest imagination.” As for the mess? I guess Jesus is offering the same advice any seasoned parent would: Don’t worry, after a while you won’t even notice it!

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

life is messy chaos

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Exploring the word

13 Aug 2023 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

What does it mean to be saved? This is an important question to ask, because it’s a question that modern Christians are expected to answer at a moment’s notice. Are you saved? Am I? Christians of many denominations consider this the crucial question upon which eternity hangs. Many Catholics are unsure how to respond to this direct inquiry. Salvation is something we think of in terms of process: something we’re eking out one decision at a time. When someone asks if we’re saved, we are tempted to say, “Come back in 40 years and I’ll let you know.” The story of our salvation isn’t entirely told, yet. Until we take our last breath, we suspect we still have time to grasp salvation by the hand and be lifted up into a state of grace. Biblical salvation, however, is a far simpler matter than all that. God saves, according to every account in the Hebrew and Christian story. God comes to the rescue whenever the people of God are in danger. The classic biblical metaphor for the endangered human being is the drowning man. The psalms are replete with it: “Save me, God, for the waters have reached my neck.” “The breakers of death surged round about me; the menacing floods terrified me.” “God reached down from on high and seized me; drew me out of the deep waters.” Being in “deep water” or “being in over your head” is still how we express the condition of serious trouble. The confidence of the community of faith is that God is in their boat, come what may: “You can save from any danger,” the writer of Wisdom prays without qualification, “so that even one without skill may embark.” Disciples at sea Metaphorically speaking, the disciples are “at sea” throughout much of the gospel. We use the term at sea to denote people who are lost, who don’t get it. We also talk about people “being up the creek without a paddle”—people unprepared for what they’re facing. When you think about it, our ancient relationship to the sea as a place of monsters and storms and danger in the depths still has a strong foothold in our language. This makes sense, since the primordial sea and its attendant chaos was the original condition under which God’s great act of Creation was performed. We still fear chaos, whether it comes in the form of lawless cultures, acts of terrorism, rogue states, porous borders, or powers and motivations we simply can’t control. So it helps to know that God asserted dominance over chaos once and for all in setting boundaries it might not trespass again. The mother-of-all-fences, the firmament, assured that the waters of the deep would not flood the Earth without God’s expressed permission. That warning was given once, in Genesis, and then repealed for all time under the sign of the rainbow. We may feel that human history is often at the edge of exploding into total chaos, but scripture scoffs at that impression. When the prophet Habakkuk rightfully protests his violent generation, he is granted a vision of God coming from Mt. Teman (Sinai/Horeb) again, churning the deep waters underfoot. Walking on water Mark, as usual, tells this story first and with economy. In his version, Jesus takes a walk on the water independent of the present need of his followers. He intends to pass them by, imitating the activity of God who moves upon the waters to subdue them and assert divine sovereignty over them. When the disciples cry out at the sight of him, in terror and not with hope, Jesus encourages them and gets into the boat, stilling the storm. But the disciples are left uncomprehending, as they were at the recent multiplication of loaves. Their hearts harden as a result of this event. Matthew, always trying to present discipleship in the best possible light, tells it differently, adding the tale of Peter’s brave attempt to join Jesus outside of the boat. Because Matthew’s gospel is a how-to manual for the church, it would be counterproductive to show how not to be a disciple. Peter, the future leader of the church, asks to be commanded by Jesus—a good start. Jesus takes him up on the challenge, and Peter does well at first in achieving the miraculous result. But he forgets to keep his “eyes on the prize,” as Paul would say, allowing his attention to be distracted from Jesus’ command to the strength of the wind. Fear reasserts itself. Still, Peter does the exemplary thing, crying out, “Lord, save me!” All of this speaks well of Peter and teaches us how to behave when we, too, find ourselves in deep water. We should look to Jesus for his command, allow him to guide us across the adversity, remaining focused but also not losing heart if fear overwhelms us. We have recourse: to ask for divine rescue—which Jesus, according to the story, “immediately” supplies. Yes, there is the mild chiding of “little faith” and “doubt,” but this takes nothing away from the outstretched hand of salvation. God’s mighty arm and hand outreached is the ultimate metaphor of divine rescue. We may be drowning, but God’s hand is ready to be grasped. Unlike Mark’s story, which ends with hardened hearts and incomprehension, Matthew’s results in homage and faith profession: “Truly, you are the Son of God.” When rescue comes, the believer will be confirmed in faith and grateful. Applying the word Vulnerable, yet bold Peter is more than an actor in Matthew’ story. He is the church, so we come to understand ourselves by standing in his shoes. Being mortal, we will always be vulnerable, not simply to harm but also to fear, doubt, and hesitation. The storm will frighten us, and the sea could well drown us. These factors are quite real; the challenge is to live boldly despite or beyond the fear and the danger. We have to be willing to get out of the boat, with heart pounding and mind racing, our eyes fixed always on Jesus and his one-word command: “Come.” Related scripture links Compare to original story: Mark 6:45-52 Divine rescue at sea: Pss. 65:8; 89:10-11; 107:26-30; Job 26:12-13 Drowning as personal metaphor: Pss. 18:5, 17; 69:2-3,15-16; 107:23-30; Wisd. 14:2-4 Canaanite myth: Ps. 77:17-21: Job 9:8; 38:8-16; Isa. 43:16; 51:10; Hab. 3:16; Sir. 24:5-6 Prominence of Peter in Matthew: Matt. 16:17-19; 17:24-27 Catechism links Jesus and the storm: CCC 448; 2602 Salvation: CCC 55; 122-133; 161; 169

Authors Alice Camille

chaos fear

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