There’s a wonderful scene in the movie Shrek,
where Donkey is following Shrek across a wooden suspension bridge, over a deep
pit full of lava, to rescue the Princess Fiona; Donkey is terrified of heights,
and the bridge doesn’t look any too strong either. He doesn’t want to step out;
Shrek tells him “You can do it, come on. Just don’t look down.” Donkey begins
on the bridge, eyes squeezed shut, and saying to himself “Don’t look down, don’t
look down.” and about halfway across he can’t risk peeking out of one eye, and he
looks down – and of course suddenly panic sets in.
Well, today’s Gospel is a kind of “Don’t look
down” story, isn’t it? There they are, disciples out in the boat, middle of the
night, doing what Jesus told them to do, and a storm comes up. They are afraid.
They see Jesus coming to them, walking across the water, which makes then even
more afraid. Dear old impetuous Peter says to Jesus “tell me to walk on the
water.” Jesus replies “Go for it!!” Peter climbs out of the boat, looking
straight at Jesus, walking across the surface of the water; he looks down and
realises what’s happening - and then he starts to sink.
Now, several of the disciples were fishermen.
They had spent much of their lives out on the lake, knew that such squalls
could come up quickly without much warning. All of that experience and
knowledge did not keep them from being afraid as the wind howled and the waves
crashed. Fear is the overwhelming emotion in this story. Fear of the storm,
fear seeing Jesus walking on the water, first thinking it is a ghost. Peter is afraid of going out on the water
himself.
In doing a little research on storms on the
Lake of Galilee, I found some interesting things. I didn’t know, for instance,
that the shallower the water, the more violent the wave motion will be. The
Lake of Galilee is situated between two sets of mountains. It gets hot down
near the lake, but in the mountains there is very cold air – and the resulting
clashes will bring sudden high winds and rainstorms, and whip the lake into a
fury. In the course of that search, and a story about the Edmund
Fitzgerald sinking on Lake Superior; did you know that Lake Erie is only 200 feet
at its deepest point – and the storms on Lake Erie are far more dangerous than
storms on – say – Lake Superior where the water is deeper. When you have a
moment to Google sometime, take a look at the number of shipwrecks in Lake
Erie.
It seems to me that today’s story really has
two parts - getting *in* the boat, and then getting *out* again. Jesus tells
the disciples to get in the boat and go over “to the other side”, go on ahead,
he will catch up. On the way to the other side, a storm comes up; crashing
winds and waves, they are terrified of losing their lives; Jesus comes to them
walking across the water and says “Ok, get out of the boat. Go for it.”
If we view this as a story about a miracle -
something which completely defies the laws of nature - then the whole core of
the story is lost; but if we view this as a story of faith, of real life, with
many layers, then the lesson takes on different meaning.
Getting *into* the boat seems synonymous with
being willing to explore faith. Getting *out* of the boat, taking the risk of actually braving the wind
and the waves – is called faith in action.What happens if we use the traditional
interpretation of the boat as the church - our “nave” being the body of the
ship? Then getting *in* to the boat means coming together in faith as a
community, and taking a journey – to a
place curiously not specified, just “the other side”. Jesus says “get in the
boat and go to the other side”. No specifics, just “the other side”. Go somewhere - do something – use the boat to
get you there. Jesus is elsewhere, doing other things, trusting that his
followers also have trust and can be doing the work of the realm without him
right there all the time.
So the little boat, the church, finds itself in
the midst of a storm. Now, what is our natural response? Hunker down, of
course, and wait for the storm to blow over. But there’s a major question; the
disciples were fishermen, most of them – so did they spend all their lives in
the boat, never getting out at all? Do we make our life inside the boat? Or do
we get off from time to time and connect with the world around us.
In researching storms and lakes, I also
discovered an early Jewish belief, that demons lived in the water, beneath the
surface. Now add *that* piece to the story,
a cultural context which we don’t even know about, but which was Peter’s and
the disciples’ context; once you add that piece, Peter’s willingness to step
out of the boat is more than just faith, it also requires overcoming the fear
of the things that lurk in the water, as well as the waves and wind which
threaten. He’s doing fine, until he looks down, and starts thinking about the
evil things under the surface, the possibility of drowning in this storm, of
all things coming to an end, and his fear overwhelms him. He can’t keep his
focus, he can’t hold Jesus in the centre, all the worst possibilities for what
might happen overwhelm him, and he begins to sink.
Well, we in the church have specific ways of
doing things, specific ways of being church, which have evolved throughout our
history. We tend to think they haven’t - but in fact, even a cursory look at
the church of a hundred, or two hundred years ago, demonstrates an institution vastly
different than the church today. The church of two hundred years ago supported
slavery of black peoples, supported the use of the Chinese as cheap indentured labour,
believed in crushing an assimilating aboriginal peoples, believed that women
could not provide adequate leadership. Hasn’t that changed? Our hymnbooks have
changed. Several years ago in a congregation where I was music director, I was
told “That last hymn – we don’t know that. Why can’t we sing the good old
hymns?” and I thought to myself “Never say that to a church musician.” Two
weeks later, a hymn was included which was a good three hundred years old. Same
person came with the same comment “I didn’t know that hymn.” To which I replied
“But you asked to sing more of the good old hymns.” There was a stunned
silence, followed by “Ah. I understand. Very clever.”
Go back and look at the hymnbooks of 150 years
ago. I guarantee you won’t know most of those hymns; they will be totally
unfamiliar. Heavens, look at a hymnal in any European church – there are reams
of hymns we don’t know and never will. Change happens, whether we like it or
not. The way we have always done things is not necessarily the way things were
done before our time, and I will stick my neck way out, and say that our
personal comfort and happiness in church is not really the most important
thing. Too many churches have gone under trying to keep everyone “happy”. Many seem to think that the church is supposed
to be here to provide a safe place which caters to our individual wants. I use
the word wants on purpose too. We tend to confuse our needs and our wants. We
don’t need the good old hymns, but they do make us feel safer because they are
grounded in the familiar, when the storm outside the ship threatens us, and we
are afraid to try walking on water.
Even so,
we want to challenge Jesus, as Peter did, to give us power to walk on water,
and then when he says “Sure, go ahead, do something different, walk on the
water. Put your belief where your mouth is.” we start thinking of all the
reasons we can’t do it – there are big waves, if we look down we see all the
monsters which will hold us back; and we sink.
One of the things I have enjoyed most here at
Leaside is that the minister is not expected to do everything so that everyone
else won’t have to do anything. It takes a lot of will and a lot of patience on
the part of a congregation to move itself to being a community living in faith,
and living out faith, together. Too many congregations want a minister who will
do it all, so they can come and feel comfortable, and not have to worry about
getting out of the boat. In another congregation I served, when the Session was
in training to do pastoral visiting, someone commented “Pastoral care isn’t the
role of the congregation; we pay a minister to do that.” My response was that
if pastoral care is not the role of all the people, then don’t bother to come
to church, because the message is wasted. Yes, we clergy can get snippy with
people on occasion – but I do see that as our role sometimes: to comfort those
who are truly afflicted, and to be a thorn in the side of those who are just
too comfortable and don’t want to be disturbed at all. Jesus, if taken
seriously, is a disturbing person and calls us to be disturbed as well.
Was Jesus really worried about the comfort of
the disciples? Or did he say “Get out of the boat. Come on in, the water’s
fine. Try something new, don’t sit there paralysed by fear, or wanting to live
in oblivious comfort.”
I remind
you again - in this story, Jesus isn’t in the boat - Jesus isn’t here - Jesus
is somewhere else, where the difficult stuff is..
One of my online colleagues, Rev. Thom Schuman,
wrote this reflection:
What if we COULD walk on water?
What if we COULD end poverty in our time?
What if we COULD make a difference in our
communities?
What if we COULD do exactly what Jesus keeps
telling us over and over that we can do?
What if we COULD be bold disciples??
Marianne Williamson, author, lecturer and teacher said “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our
deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our
darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be
brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?" The real question should be,
“Who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't
serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of
God within us...and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other
people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our
presence automatically liberates others.”
Jesus was probably saying the same to Peter -
as you are liberated from your own fear you will also liberate others. This is
what Jesus has called all of us to do and be. May we not be afraid to forego
our comfort, not be afraid to step out of the boat, on to the water; not be
afraid to look down; and still be able to walk on water. May it be so.
