The Bible (opened)
Sermon - Year A

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

At about the time of my arrival in Scotland, another priest from Poland, unbeknown to me, turned up too. Among a few things we had in common, one was very poor English. Soon we were deployed to two different parishes to assist their respective parish priests and, in the process, improve our language skills. Some time later, I went to visit the other priest. He was enthusiastically telling me how he had been learning English fast with the help of a tutor, a local parishioner. They spent hours honing his vocabulary, grammar and pronunciation. It made me a bit envious because, in my parish, everyone was unrepentantly polite in a very British way, telling me that my English was good (rubbish!) or – the daftest phrase of all – “your English is better than my Polish.” It’s hard to improve things if nobody ever corrects you. However, the priest and I were conversing in English (however broken it was) because we had an English-speaking companion at the table: his tutor. While the priest enthused about hours upon hours of being taught, the man gently protested to me, mouthing that his lessons were much simpler and shorter than the priest claimed. That was strange… Was the priest lying? I don’t think so, as it would be outrightly dismissed. My money is on a mix of his enthusiasm for learning, his subjective perception of time and the willingness of his tutor to help him, as well as other factors at play. His story was true, however incredulously embellished.

We can approach the story in today’s gospel in a similar manner. First of all, it’s a story, not a news or police report. Every good story must have elements keeping the audience interested and engaged. There is a reason why textbooks on physics or chemistry aren’t even remotely as popular as any moderately good fiction. Although the former are factually, scientifically accurate, and correct, they are also coma-inducing. Recently I was caught unawares by the film “Braveheart” shown after the news. Having watched it many times before, I was gripped and watched it again! The film is infamous for its historical inaccuracies, but arguably it tells the true story of William Wallace’s rebellion really well. When we listen to the story in today’s gospel, we can approach it like many experts on a popular online video service who criticise factual inaccuracies in films; they don’t see the wood for the trees. If we focus on whether Jesus was literally walking on water or whether Peter joined him for a wee stroll, we will miss the meaning of this story and, consequently, make it irrelevant to our lives.

The crux of the story is the struggle of Jesus’ disciples in the boat. Everything seemed to conspire against them. The headwind made using the sail impossible, so they had to row. Choppy waters made that harder, tossing them all over the place. The quickly falling darkness made the situation worse; deprived of the use of their primary sense, they were prone to seeing and hearing supernatural things. Add to the mix their instinctive, deeply rooted fear of the watery grave beneath them, and you get a bunch of people in despair. To make it worse, they felt abandoned; their master wasn’t with them. His sudden appearance outside the boat did nothing to ease their fear; it terrified them. When we look at their situation in such a way, suddenly, it doesn’t look much different to our own troubles and challenges; sometimes it looks like everything is conspiring against us, there’s no one to turn to for help, and any religious advice or suggestion makes things scarier yet.

Peter’s attempt at walking on water is another instance of spiritual meaning rather than factual detail. Generally speaking, ancient Israelites weren’t a great maritime civilisation, unlike their coastal neighbours, the Phoenicians. It was because they feared expanses and depths of vast bodies of water. Those were fearsome, hostile domains of demise and perish. That’s where the symbolic meaning of baptism is rooted; by full immersion in the water, we are buried with Jesus in His death; then, being lifted out of the water, we come back to life with Him. So, Jesus walking on water is a symbolic way of showing His power over enemies and foes. Peter’s request to join Jesus was a desire to participate in such a powerful and victorious conquest of adversities. Peter, overwhelmed by the hostile environment, failed (not the first and not the last time in his career) and pleaded for Jesus’ help. The episode concluded with Jesus’ admonition: “Man of little faith, why did you doubt?”

The story was originally told to small Christian communities living among unfriendly, sometimes openly and even violently hostile neighbours. They faced the natural hardships of the ancient way of life like everyone else, but they also had to often deal with persecution in various shapes and forms. In such an environment, it was easy to lose heart, despair, give up or give in to pressure. Those Christians gathered each Sunday to renew their resolve by being reminded that Jesus, their Saviour, is the ultimate Victor. The story we heard in today’s gospel was a gripping, expanded and embellished way of recalling Jesus’ words: “In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!” (John 16:33)