Homily for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Today’s Gospel continues on from last Sunday’s. After the Feeding of the Five

Thousand, Christ gets the disciples to get into the boat, He dismisses the

crowds, and, finally, at last, gets some time for quality prayer. He is God the

Son, yet He doesn’t see Himself as self-sufficient and not in need of anyone.

He is desperate for that contact with His Father in the Holy Spirit in deep

prayer, and in fact, unless He falls asleep part way through, He spends a

considerable number of hours in prayer. He’s a bit like Elijah in the first

reading, going up the mountain to pray, and finding God in the stillness and the

silence. Sometimes we ourselves can find praying at night, a profound

experience, whether it’s night-time adoration in church, or maybe a quiet walk

back at night on our own after socialising. Everything is so much more calm,

more still, and we can almost sense the presence of God.

Meanwhile, the poor disciples. They’re on the lake, battling the wind. Now

that doesn’t just mean that they’re having to row, but they’ve also got to put up

with the waves and the worry of being flooded or capsized, and perhaps they’re

having to bail out the boat. So Christ, seeing them from afar, goes to meet

them, not swimming, but walking on the waves, showing that He is the one in

command, walking on the sea, not being drowned by it. It’s a good reminder

for us in those times when we are battling our own headwinds in life, that God

will come to our aid, but He might not always do so according to our

expectations. We often want things done now, and done yesterday. But God

doesn’t always work like that. Just look even at the second reading. St Paul is

in great anguish because the Jews have rejected Christ. So great is His distress

that he says he would even allow himself to be cut off from Christ, and

therefore thrown into hell, if that would result in the Jews recognising and

following Christ. But elsewhere in the New Testament we hear that God’s plan

is for the Jews initially to reject Him, whilst the Gentiles, i.e. the non-Jews,

convert. Then, at the end of time, the Jews themselves will recognise Christ

and be converted. St Paul has been martyred a long time ago, but their mass

conversion hasn’t taken place yet. God knows what He is doing.

When Christ arrives, to begin with, they don’t recognise Him. How many

times do we not recognise Christ at work in our lives? Then comes Peter’s

impetuosity. The first Pope is given the authority to walk on the waters as

well. St John Chrysostom has something very interesting to say about all of

this. Sometimes, we learn things better through our own experience, and

making mistakes, than if someone had tried to teach us. Peter had to learn that

he can’t rely on his own resources, but to remember that all his strength comes

from the Lord. Of course, he falls afoul again on Maundy Thursday, when he

first says to Christ that he is ready to die for him, and then, later on, when

Christ is before the Sanhedrin, being made fun of, beaten and spat upon, Peter

then denies three times that he even knew Him. We have to rely on the power

of God, and not think we are good enough to be able to do everything by

ourselves! St John Chrysostom goes so far to say, though, that if we fail to play

our part, God ceases to help us. So relying on God doesn’t mean being passive

and waiting for everything to be handed to us on a plate. We have to go out and

work for it. Peter begins by trusting in the Lord, stepping out in faith literally

onto the water, but after a while he thinks he has bitten off more than he can

chew, probably seeing the height and the ferocity of the waves. But Peter, who

is it that is sustaining you? You’re not walking on the waves all by yourself.

It’s not a “mind over matter” trick. He begins to be afraid, he doubts, he starts

to sink, and then, again full of faith, he calls out, “Lord, save me”. We are

never alone, either. If we struggle, we need to call on the Lord, again, and He

will respond, in His way, in His time.

Then there’s a final detail in the Gospel. Christ gets into the boat, and then the

wind ceased. They had Jesus with them. There was no longer any reason to

fear. He calmed the storm. When we have Jesus with us in Holy Communion,

we should similarly feel at calm and at peace.

Truly, He is the Son of God.

Curious about exploring things further?  If you would like to ask further questions about the topics raised in these homilies (or maybe think it wasn’t explained too well!), please feel free to e-mail Fr Michael at stjoseph.thame@rcaob.org.uk