Sermon - August 7, 2011

8^th Sunday after Pentecost (Year A) - Sunday, August 7, 2011

Matthew 14:22-33

This past week, my first week in Lancaster, has been memorable in several ways. Personally, I have been struck by the love and kindness you all have shown me in welcoming me to this place. As some of you might know, your former vicar Brett is now my wife and so Christ Lutheran to me is not entirely new. I am so grateful to finally be here each day in person and to begin getting to know each of you.

It's been memorable in another way, though, not nearly as positive. Wave after wave of misfortune and tragedy seem to have crashed into the people of this city, this nation and the world. As a people, as individual persons, and as a common humanity we seem to be weathering a time of high wind and huge waves battering our boat as we struggle to keep afloat.

 

In my first week here in Lancaster I have read in the paper of shootings and robberies at gunpoint just a few blocks away – the tragic tales of those battered by waves of tragedy and injustice and brokenness who feel they must take matters into their own hands. Unemployment numbers remain sky high but no one who wakes up every day searching, and searching, and praying, and hoping, needs the latest job report. Those who spend their days searching for a way to put food on the table, to make next month's rent tell a story that is deeper and more penetrating than any economic update. Those who wait in hospital beds, or by the side of loved ones, can tell you about the highs and lows of good news and bad news tossing them up and down like a vessel in high seas. Around the world in East Africa, the worst famine in 60 years has placed half of the population of Somalia in need of “immediate life-saving assistance,” according to one news report.

Last week we heard of how Jesus provided this kind of “immediate life-saving assistance” to the crowds on the seashore, but this week we are told he has gone away up to the mountain for some time alone with God. We can't blame him for this, but we're down here, being tossed about by the waves, all alone.

After a night of prayer, perhaps just because it was the morning, perhaps because he knew they were in trouble, Matthew doesn't tell us why, Jesus comes back to them, walking across the sea. But nevertheless Jesus returns to his disciples, and can we blame them in their state for not recognizing him? Can we blame ourselves for not noticing at first when God comes to us in the midst of our stormy lives?

Twice in this passage Matthew goes out of his way to use the word “immediately” to describe Jesus' response to his disciples. Noticing their confusion, Jesus immediately uses telltale signs to identify himself - “take heart, it is I, do not be afraid,” words he's used before. The words translated “it is I” in the Greek literally mean “I AM,” which is the divine name of God spoken to Moses at the burning bush. It is as if he said, “you have nothing to worry about, the God of Abraham and Moses is here.”

But Peter and the disciples cannot see Jesus for who he is. Peter demands from Jesus a sign to see if he really is the Lord, the Messiah, the Son of God. In asking for this sign, Peter joins the ranks of the devil and the high priest as those who demand Jesus to prove himself. If we're honest, we are in this group, too. I know that I have all too often asked Jesus to prove himself to me.

And we know what happens next. The wind is strong and Peter sinks into the waves around him. This is where we who hear this story need, again, to be honest with ourselves and our brother Peter. We call walking on water a miracle for good reason – because we can't do it! We're not supposed to be able to do it, and neither was Peter. We too would be sinking like a rock into that water. But like Peter, sooner or later we find ourselves trying to do the impossible, to be miracle workers, to somehow on our own rise above all the wind and waves of sin and tragedy that batter against us. And like Peter, we are soon thrashing in the waves, sinking deeper.

But this story isn't about Peter's failure to do the impossible, nor is it about ours. It's about Jesus, the Son of God, who here takes center stage as our Savior. As our Savior, Jesus does what it is impossible for us to do – namely, to rescue us from our sin, from ourselves and from the powers of evil and death in this world.

Peter does get one thing right in this story, and that's to recognize that Jesus is the hero, not himself. “Lord, save me!” is absolutely the right answer as he sank into the waves. It is our answer as we cry out in silent prayers during our day, in our songs and in our worship. Lord, have mercy. Lord, save us.

Jesus' reply to Peter, and to us here and now, is swift and clear. Matthew tells us that he immediately reached out his hand and caught him. Whenever we cannot keep our heads above water, and really that's all the time, Jesus reaches out and grabs us. As we sink with our sin into the waters of our baptisms, Jesus lifts us up with him to walk in newness of life, set free from that sin and death, forever held and joined to our Lord.

Like those in the boat, it is only after our Lord Jesus has caught us and returned us to safety that we can say honestly, “truly you are the Son of God.” It's not our burden to find Jesus, he comes to us. We know Jesus by what he does in our lives to save us. It is once we have met Jesus, Son of God, face to face right here, and received his body and blood, that we say in the same way, “Amen.”

As this passage concludes, Jesus has caught Peter and returned him to the boat, and suddenly it becomes calm. This boat, which has long been a symbol for the church, is calm not because here you become separated from the evil, pain and brokenness of the world, but because here that sin and death is met by the love of God in Jesus Christ. Christ entered into that sin and pain on the cross, and he does in you, and just as those forces were conquered by Christ, they are no longer the end of the story for you.

Together with Christ this boat, the church, is moving - back to the shore. The next few verses tell us that arriving at the shore, Jesus and the disciples encountered the harsh realities of our world as all the sick of the region were brought for healing. Caught by Christ, caught up in his love, we are called to go with Jesus to each other and to those right outside these doors, to our neighbors rich and poor, to our sisters and brothers who come to eat here on Thursday nights, to our friends and family and to strangers all of whom might be sick, or scared, or hopeless, or joyful - to feed, to heal, to share with them the love of God. This is not our work to do alone. We are not called to work miracles or to walk on water. But held tightly, forever, by our Lord, we journey with him, with his power, to share his love. It is a great blessing to be in this boat together with you, on this journey over the coming year. Amen.