Genesis 33:1-12; Matthew 14:22-33
Rev. Laura J. Collins
August 11, 2002
I almost never tell stupid jokes at the beginning of my sermons, but it is August, so you'll just have to sit there and take it. You know the one about the priest, the Baptist minister and the rabbi? They went fishing one day. They had paddled out to the middle of the lake when they realized they left their tackle on the shore. So the Baptist minister said, "Don't worry, I'll get it."
Then he stepped out of the boat, walked across the water, got the fishing gear and walked back to the boat. The three men began to fish. After a while they got hungry and realized they'd left their lunches on the shore. The priest said, "I'll get them."
He stepped out of the boat, walked across the water, got the lunches and walked back to the boat. No sooner had he gotten in the boat, than he realized he'd left the drinks in the cooler. The rabbi, who had been watching his friends with amazement did not want to be outdone. So he stood up and said, "I'll get them."
Immediately, he stepped out the boat and sank. The minister turned to the priest and said, "I guess we should have told him where the rocks are."
Now this has absolutely nothing to do with the sermon today except that walking on water has become a cliche in our time. We speak of people who seem to do everything well as "walking on water." We long for charismatic leaders who do no wrong; who can "walk on water."
All of the jokes and cliches, of course, refer to the story from Matthew's gospel that we heard today, where Jesus has finally gotten some time alone, sending away even his closest companions so he can have some time to pray. When he's ready to join them again, they are already out on their boat in the sea and he walks out to join them.
Most sermons on this passage focus on the interaction between Peter and Jesus. Peter sees Jesus and tries to imitate him by walking out to meet him, but loses his nerve and goes under, to which Jesus says "Oh, you of little faith." So there are a couple of sermon possibilities there: either focus on the lack of faith that the disciples had and how we are called to trust Jesus over all the dark waters of our lives or focus on the fact that at least Peter tried: at least one disciple had the guts to get out of the boat at all and so, both in his desire and in his failing, Peter again becomes a disciple to whom we can relate.
But I'm not preaching either of those sermons today. Instead, let me draw your attention to the most obvious point of this text: Jesus could do something superhuman. He performed yet another miracle. By doing something impossible he once again sets himself apart from ordinary humanity. Now those of us of a liberal bent are always trying to focus on how human Jesus is -- and that he is -- but sometimes we twist our shorts in a knot trying to avoid ackowledging this other fact: that he is also more than human.
The reason we are still here worshipping him 2000 years later is that there was something divine, miraculous, unnervingly powerful at work in him that can transform reality. As one of my favorite songwriters, Bruce Cockburn, sings, "2000 years and half a world away, trees still grow greener when we pray."
We pray in Jesus' name because we claim to believe, as our new members will stand and profess in a few moments, that in his life, in his death, through his resurrection and living spirit, we are connected to the divine energy of the universe -- that humanity and divinity came together in Christ in a way that allows us, too, to bridge the distance between spirit and matter. That by being "in Christ," we are not simply remembering a good person and seeking to follow a great leader, but that we are, in fact, remembering the divine image in ourselves and redeeming the goodness of creation. In Christ, the waters of life do not drown us, but bouy us up.
Christ is our savior precisely because he has the power to make this connection for us and through us. To save us from drowning in whatever waters threaten to undo us or our world and to show us how to walk across them. Or, when we fail, to walk across them himself, in order to be with us in the boat.
Jesus, of course, acknowledged throughout his life that he was simply living the truth that was already present in the world and particularly in his own Jewish faith. The God Jesus embodied was the God of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and those fighting twins, Esau and Jacob.
We have followed these twins this summer in our lectionary readings and I have to confess that today's reading is not on the lectionary schedule. In the lectionary, we jump from last week's dream of Jacob wrestling with an angel before meeting his estranged twin brother, to the stories of another estranged family in the Joseph cycle. But sometimes the lectionary just ticks me off and this was one of those weeks. How could they possibly skip the climax of the Jacob stories?
If you remember the stories, these twin brothers began fighting in their mother's womb and Jacob, the second-born came out grabbing the heel of his first-born brother Esau. So he spends years scheming and conniving to steal the inheritance due to the first-born son and does so by hook and by crook. Of course, Esau is raging mad and sets out to kill his cheating brother who flees to the hills for safety where he lives very successfully for many years, though always lonely for his homeland and his family. Finally, Jacob realizes he cannot avoid his brother forever and determines to return even if it means his death.
So he prepares gifts by the camel-load -- lots of gifts. And he prays mightily and he wrestles God for a blessing before he finally crosses the Jabbok river back into his homeland. That's where today's story begins. There is Jacob, trembling in his boots, having sent all the peace offerings ahead of him, wondering what will happen when he finally sees Esau.
And then we get one of the most beautiful passages in the whole Bible: "But Esau ran to meet him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him and they wept."
Is there a family in the universe who hasn't longed for that estranged brother or aunt or cousin or child to come home to such an embrace?
How can it happen? Only by the grace of God. The philosopher was absolutely correct in saying that "To err is human; to forgive, divine." By the grace of God, we can forgive, we can trust, can we hope enough to cross the waters of estrangement.
Or to step out of the boat into the arms of Christ. Because, remember, in our gospel reading, Peter did not drown. He may not have had what it took to walk on water, but his eyes were on Jesus and so he was saved from drowning, in spite of deep waters.
The power of God is alive in our world. Power to overcome estrangement, power to step out on rough waters. Deep waters. Cold waters. Any waters. The healing and amazing power of Christ can reach us wherever we find ourselves, whatever it is we have to face, whatever we need to step out to do.
Christ walks across the water to us, Christ saves us from the water when we fall, Christ joins us in the boat on the water, and Christ invites us to walk across the waters as well. With our eyes on him, the waters will not overwhelm us. With our mind on Jesus, anything, any thing, any body, anyone, can be redeemed. Thanks be to God.
Oh ... and it probably doesn't hurt to tell each other where the rocks are.
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