Readings of the day: 1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a; Psalm 85:9, 10, 11-12, 13-14; Romans 9:1-5; Matthew 14:22-33
Who here has ever been awakened at three o’clock in the morning and then has tried in vain to get back to sleep? Perhaps except for those of us who are night shift workers, to be awake at three o’clock in the morning is not usually good. Three o’clock in the morning and those who are awakened at this hour have historically been associated with immoral behaviour, guilt, or (probably closer to the true diagnosis if someone is regularly awake at this time) simply insomnia. A phone call or knock at the door at three o’clock in the morning causes us to worry: Would this not rightly cause us to fear the worst? Often people who are wandering the streets at three o’clock in the morning are up to no good. And if illness or sadness is keeping us up at three o’clock in the morning, is not the illness or sadness usually made worse by not being able to sleep?
Who here has ever been awakened at three o’clock in the morning and then has tried in vain to get back to sleep? Perhaps except for those of us who are night shift workers, to be awake at three o’clock in the morning is not usually good. Three o’clock in the morning and those who are awakened at this hour have historically been associated with immoral behaviour, guilt, or (probably closer to the true diagnosis if someone is regularly awake at this time) simply insomnia. A phone call or knock at the door at three o’clock in the morning causes us to worry: Would this not rightly cause us to fear the worst? Often people who are wandering the streets at three o’clock in the morning are up to no good. And if illness or sadness is keeping us up at three o’clock in the morning, is not the illness or sadness usually made worse by not being able to sleep?
Why do I emphasize three o’clock in the
morning? What is so remarkable about this time? In our Gospel reading, we hear
that the boat in which Jesus’ disciples were encounters a strong headwind and
high waves “during the fourth watch of the night,” or at about three o’clock in
the morning.
I do not know what Jesus’ disciples were
doing in a boat “a few miles offshore” at three o’clock in the morning! All we
know from our Gospel reading is that Jesus had left them there while he went to
pray alone. Then, in the wee hours of the morning, the disciples in the boat
encounter bad weather, and it is at this point when Jesus comes walking toward
them on the water…
Having been in the Holy Land; having
stood on the shore of the Sea of Galilee just last summer, I can relate to the
predicament in which Jesus’ disciples must have found themselves that night in
the boat. For what is not a very large lake, the Sea of Galilee is renowned for
rapid changes in weather. In seemingly just a few minutes, the wind can whip
calm water up into white-capped waves, as I saw on the day I visited the Sea of
Galilee. This Sea of Galilee brought life and a sufficient living from its
abundant fish; it could also bring death and destruction if one were caught out
on it when the weather changed as quickly as it does there. And so we can
empathize with Jesus’ disciples fear when the sea turned stormy the night Jesus
walked toward them on water at three o’clock in the morning.
What about the story of Elijah that we
hear in our first reading? Elijah, too, was experiencing fear for his life. He
had just killed the false prophets of the false gods worshipped by Jezebel, the
wife of Israel’s King Ahab. Jezebel wants Elijah killed in turn, and so Elijah
escapes to a cave on Mount Horeb where, in fear and despair for his life, he
waits for God. And Elijah encounters God on Horeb, but not as Elijah would have
expected to encounter God.
I ask if, in his fear and despair,
Elijah might have thought: Maybe a rock-crushing wind would not be such a bad
idea; or maybe an earthquake; or maybe a fire… “God, I am in such deep despair
as not to want to live,” Elijah might have prayed. A few verses earlier in 1
Kings, Elijah makes precisely this prayer: “Enough, LORD! Take my life, for
I am no better than my ancestors.” Can we relate, perhaps if we have known
anyone to be in such deep distress as to despair of life itself, or if some of
us have experienced this despair or depression ourselves?
God, though, encourages Elijah; calls
him forth from the cave: God calls Elijah forth not from a strong wind; not from
an earthquake; not from a fire, but with “a tiny whispering sound.” In the
depths of his despair and fear, perhaps at three o’clock in the morning when
Elijah could not sleep (although we cannot know from our first reading at what
time of day Elijah encountered God on Horeb), Elijah encounters the powerful
gentleness of God. Elijah encounters God as a calm whisper, as if to say
quietly, “I have a purpose for you yet. Entrust your life to me and be my
prophet. All will be well.”
Parents with small children: Have you
ever consoled your children when they could not sleep at night by cradling them
in your arms and whispering into their ears? Often, when I am presiding at Mass,
I look out and see parents whispering to their children to keep them calm. I
see children whisper back to their parents, and then occasionally look up at me
with a facial expression of, “Oops! Father sees me talking during Mass.” I have
to smile at these moments. These whispered conversations between parents and
children, whether at Mass or at three o’clock in the morning when the children cannot
sleep: This is how God speaks with us, I am sure.
Our God is not in the wind, in the
earthquake, or in the fire. Our God is in the silence; in the consoling whispered
conversations between parents and children. Never is God more powerful than in
God’s gentleness: “I have a purpose for you yet. Trust in me. All will be well.”
This is the gentleness with which God
encounters Elijah. And this is the gentleness with which Jesus encounters his
disciples at three o’clock in the morning, quietly walking toward them on
water: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.”
To his credit, Peter recognizes God’s gentle
presence in Jesus walking on the water. Peter is open to being taught this way
of gentleness; this way of trust in God: “Lord, if it is you, command me to
come to you on the water.” And Jesus says to Peter, “Come.” Jesus not only
walks gently toward his disciples on water; not only calms our storms of weak
faith; weak trust, but calls us to walk on water as he does, with whatever “little
faith” we already have. Jesus calls us to encounter one another; to serve one
another; to love one another; to encourage and to console one another with
God-like gentleness. And when we fail; when we are sinking; when we sin, Jesus
stretches out a hand to save us: “O you of little faith, why did you doubt”?
When we despair; when we are sad; when we are unsure of God’s presence in our lives; when we experience sometimes sudden storms in our lives or relationships; when it is three o’clock in the morning and we cannot sleep, God meets us in a calm whisper. God whispers to us, as a parent to a child: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” When we call back to God, in the words of St. Peter, “Lord, save me,” we can be sure that God hears us and whispers back: “I am not in the wind. I am not in the storm at sea. I am not in the earthquake. I am not in the fire. I am not in whatever is keeping you awake at three o’clock in the morning. I am in the ‘tiny whispering sound’ that you hear if you listen carefully. I have a purpose for you, my beloved. Trust in me. All will be well.”
