Today we hear our Lord exclaim, “Take heart it is I, do not be afraid,” and in a way confirming that we should have faith for he is going to be with us: “Yes, till the end of time.” Like Mark and John, Matthew attaches the narrative of Jesus’ walk on the water to that of the multiplication of the loaves, thus establishing a link between the two episodes.
The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, in spite of its extraordinary nature, touches us without doubt because of its Eucharistic resonances. On the contrary, the story of Jesus and Peter walking on the sea disconcerts us. We find it difficult to grasp the relation that the Gospel means to establish between these two miracles. But on closer inspection, we readily see that in both cases the disciples’ faith is the point. At the multiplication of the loaves, they had to trust Jesus, who had said: “No need to dismiss the crowds. You yourselves give them something to eat. Bring me the five loaves and two fish which you have. Now distribute this food to the crowd.” They were lacking everything, as were all the people who had followed Jesus to “a deserted place”, “they ate and all were satisfied.” The disciples even gathered twelve baskets full of remaining fragments.
Here, too, the disciples find themselves in a critical situation. “The boat, already a few miles offshore, was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it.” To make matters worse, the disciples are alone in the midst of the storm, without Jesus, who had remained, no-one knew exactly where, “on the mountain by himself to pray.” He had forced them to embark and precede him to the opposite shore. They are alone and feel in some way abandoned. How can they help but be “terrified” when they see Jesus coming to them walking on the sea? “They cried out in fear.” They say, “it is a ghost.” They cannot believe that it is really Jesus, that he can be there, so near, whereas they had left him on the shore from which they are already “a few miles” away. Can this really be him, coming to them walking on the stormy sea.
However, Peter, divided between doubt—“Lord, if is you,”—and his deep faith, speaks up, he says, “Command me to come to you on the water.” He proclaims his faith in the sovereign authority of him whom he calls “Lord”, and who “commands.” Moreover, when Peter becomes frightened because of the wind and begins to sink, he cries, “Lord, save me!” He doubts, it is true, and Jesus points this out to him. But he surmounts the doubt, “Lord……command……save me.”
And the story ends with a kind of brief liturgy when calm returns. “Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying, ‘truly you are the Son of God.’”
Matthew has a significant manner all of his own to show how we must address Jesus. One approaches him, conscious of the distance that separates him from his disciples. One prostrates oneself, saying, “Lord,”and acknowledging in faith his being “Son of God.” These are as many elements of a liturgy already present in the Gospel of Matthew, attesting to an already very elaborate Christology.
Although it first disconcerts us, this narrative soon unveils its whole ecclesial and paschal significance. In the boat “tossed by waves, for the wind was against it,” tradition very early saw an image of the Church, fighting the tide of evil. It is in the dark of night, in Jesus’ absence, that we must reach the other shore. These details describe well the situation of the Christian community in the time of faith.
Besides, we cannot fail to put side by side this episode and the birth of paschal faith. The disciples, too, have known a “night” in which they found themselves at a loss. When, having risen, he appeared to the women who in the morning had found the empty tomb, Jesus must also have told them, “Do not be afraid.”And when the disciples “went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them…..they worshipped, but they doubted”—still.
Finally, Peter appears as a typical disciple, whatever his pre-eminence may have been in the community gathered by Jesus. Faith has its ups and downs. If it looks to Jesus and leans on his word, it dares everything and can do everything. But if it lays itself open to doubt, it can only falter and all that is left, then, is a total trust in the mercy of Jesus, the Saviour.
“Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid. ‘Hearing these reassuring words, perhaps there will be one among us animated by a greater ardor, a Peter walking toward perfection but not yet perfect, who will get out of the boat, knowing he has escaped the trial which was shaking him. First of all, in his desire to meet Jesus, he will walk on the water, but, his faith still being insufficient, he still doubting, he will grow afraid and will begin to sink. However, he will escape this misfortune, because he will call Jesus with great cries saying: Lord save me! Hardly will this other Peter have finished speaking and saying: Lord save me! Than the Logos will stretch out his hand, will help him, and hold him when he begins to sink, reproaching him for his lack of faith and his doubts. Note, however, that he did not say, Unbeliever, but Man of little faith. It is written, Why did you doubt, for you had little faith, but you swerved in the direction opposite to faith.”’ (Origen 185-253)
In the silence of the desert and the storms of the world, “God exists, I have met him” so writes the author [A. Frossard] of the book with the same title, who tells the story of his sudden conversion and of what it radically changed in his life, and it gives a perfect definition of faith. In like terms, Andrew brought his brother Simon to Jesus, and Philip spoke of Nathanael, “We have found the Messiah.”
Like love, faith is indeed an encounter. Certain persons can date itt, and situate it with precision, they can say with exact certitude the very moment of conversion. E.g. John the Baptist designated Jesus as the Lamb of God “(It) was about four in the afternoon.” — and “As Saul was on the road to Damascus……” and— “When the sixth hour came there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour……. In truth this man was a son of God.” And so on, there are infinite examples. Whatever the circumstances, the journey, of faith is an encounter that makes one exclaim “It is he!” From that time on, one knows the Other is, and will always be, there. Having given one’s faith to him, one knows he can always rely on him. This does not preclude moments of hesitation and even doubt, which do not lessen deep faith: “He is late in showing himself. When will he give a sign, and in what way?” We sometimes ask ourselves, but in our hearts we know he is there.
On the brink of despair, Elijah the prophet goes into the wilderness to the mountain where God spoke to Moses — to “Horeb” (which is another name for Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments and God revealed himself to him) Does he [Elijah] know exactly what he is expecting of this return to the sources of revelation? Does he imagine that God can come without stupendous manifestations, storm, earthquake, fire? Invisibly present in “the dark night” of faith, the Lord goes by as “a tiny whispering sound.” One catches a glimpse of his back, and recognises his passage by his luminous footprints. The disciples’ experience after the multiplication of the loaves is completely different. Still marvelling at what had happened, embarked with assurance to cross a familiar lake, here they are battling a contrary wind. Why did Jesus not come with them instead of remaining in prayer? He comes to them. But is it really he, this man walking on the sea? Yes, they recognise him, do “him homage, saying, ‘truly, you are the Son of God.’” We have here another fleeting manifestation of God’s presence in a situation reminding us of the Church: between two shores, it is sailing on an often-stormy sea, but her Lord watches over her; tossed by the waves, Peter’s boat will not flounder. — “Simon, thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
Such an assurance must not lead us to forget those who have not embarked on the same crossing, but to whom we owe so much: the covenants, the Law, the promises of God, Christ born in their race, the forms of our worship, in prayer and the Eucharist. We make a memorial of all these when we celebrate the liturgy in which we draw near to the Father, through Christ, in the Spirit into which we have been adopted.
“Meanwhile the eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain, where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore……….. And know I am with you always; yes, to the end of time..’” Amen.
