A few weeks ago, my question was “for children of all ages.” Today, I have another question for “children of all ages.” But today’s question is not about circuses. However, you’ll need to remember back to when you were a little kid. My question is this: When you were a little kid, were there monsters under your bed? If you were like many little kids, you knew they didn’t live there all the time. Not during the daylight hours. But only at night, when you were about ready to go to sleep. They began stirring just after mommy or daddy turned off the light. Some of you may not know what I’m talking about, but Calvin and Hobbes did!
How many of you remember Calvin and Hobbes? They were my favorite comic-strip characters. Calvin was the little boy who knew the world most of us live in is less important than the world of our imagination. He and his tiger friend, Hobbes, knew all about the monsters under the bed, about the things that frighten us. But Calvin had Hobbes to protect him. If I need to get out of my bed and look under it to make sure the monsters aren’t really there, I’d like to have a friendly tiger at my side.
Believe it or not, our readings for today have that same message: there is a friendly, gentle tiger with me. To begin, let’s take another look at our first reading from the First Book of Kings about the prophet Elijah hiding out in a cave. Do you remember why he was there? It’s because he had killed the seventy prophets of Queen Jezebel who was now chasing him. He was hiding out from her in that cave on Mount Horeb when the Lord God said He would allow Elijah to see Him, personally.
Elijah wanted to see the Lord God, but he also knew those who did, usually died in the process. Yet he was willing to leave the safety of his cave, to risk death to see the Lord God passing by. And what does Elijah see? First of all, there’s a strong wind, a tornado, ripping the mountain apart and pulverizing the rocks around Elijah. Next, there’s an earthquake. And then there is an all-consuming fire. Still there is no Lord God to comfort Elijah, His prophet. But then, after the fire, there is a tiny, whispering sound. It is then that Elijah knows Yahweh is present.
Would you have had the courage, after a tornado, after an earthquake, after a raging fire, to stand at the entrance of a cave to be present to hear the whisper of God? In the midst of your own tribulations, when you hide in your own cave to be safe from all that rages around you, do you dare to go out to listen for the gentle whisper of God?
And what about Peter, whose story we heard in today’s gospel reading? Am I like Peter? It’s been a hard day for Peter. But it had been a harder day for Jesus. It started before dawn, when word had reached Jesus and his friends that John, the one who had baptized them in the Jordan, was dead. Beheaded by King Herod. Upon hearing this terrible news, Jesus wanted to be alone, alone with his Abba, alone with his prayers. Jesus had set off in a small boat to a deserted place by himself.
However, the crowds had heard he was going. Perhaps, some had even heard the news about John and wondered how Jesus would react. Would Jesus now start preaching against Herod? What would Jesus do next? So, they went ahead of him, along the shore, and met him when he got out of the boat.
He didn’t preach to them about overthrowing Herod. He did not talk about revenge. The crowd listened intently to what he said. They did not leave. Even when dusk began to settle. There in the twilight the disciples urged Jesus to send away the crowds. You know what happened next. We heard in last week’s gospel how Jesus fed the five-thousand, not counting women and children, with five loaves of bread and a couple of fish. When it was dark, Jesus finally dismissed the crowds and sent his friends out in a boat so he could, at last, be alone to mourn for his friend and cousin, John the Baptist.
Jesus had spent much of the night in prayer. Yet, his disciples were still in his mind. Even in his own human sadness about John, Jesus could look out across the Sea of Galilee and notice in the cloudy moonlight their boat was being tossed about. So, sometime between three and six A.M., Jesus went to them across the water.
There was Peter, the able fisherman, who could not make any headway, out there in the boat with the others. When they saw Jesus walking on the water, perhaps they thought Herod’s men had killed Jesus, too, and it was, indeed, his ghost approaching them. Jesus knew what they must be thinking and so he called out to them, “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
Peter heard those words of his friend and Master. Peter, the fisherman who knew the dangers of the waters of the Sea of Galilee, took his courage and began to walk across the waters toward Jesus, until Peter, remembering what those dangers might be, began to sink. Yet, in his very act of sinking, Peter was able to cry out, “Lord, save me!”
Yes, Jesus had the right to say to Peter, “How little faith you have.” And to ask him: “Why did you doubt, why did you falter?” But this question, which can also be asked of you and me, is less important than what happened next. Jesus did reach out to Peter and led him back to the safety of the boat. Only then did the storm die down.
But what about me? How many times have I been less than Peter and not had the courage to get out of the boat? How often have I had the initial onrush of courage to get out of my boat, but seeing the storm did not end and fearing for my own safety, began to sink beneath the waves? How many times have I asked for Jesus to help me, and then lost confidence, wondering if he really heard me? Did he really call to me and say, “Be not afraid. Come.”
“Be not afraid.” Of what am I afraid? “Come.” From what fear must I come? Do I fear the conditions of the world around me? A world which seems to be filled with monsters of terrorism and disaster. Or, perhaps, I need to look even closer to home. To my own bed, my own cave, my own boat. Perhaps, each one of us needs to begin to identify the boat in which we are tossed and turned. For some, the tossing boat may be a relationship which needs to be improved – with our spouse or with a parent, with a friend. For others, it may be a relationship which must be ended, rather than pursued. We know what must be changed. We try, but, seeing no immediate improvement, we give up instead of calling for help from the Jesus who walks toward us with outstretched hand.
Or perhaps we must begin to identify the cave of our isolation, a cave that may be an addiction which has hold of us, an addiction to drugs, to excessive alcohol, to computer porn or to other harmful behaviors. Perhaps, my cave is a general weariness – a weariness of not knowing what I should do, of wanting to seek God more closely, but not knowing how to begin.
So here I sit, locked in my cave of isolation. Here I am, being tossed by waves which threaten to drown me. Here I huddle, in my bed while monsters lurk beneath me. And all the time I lack courage – courage to begin. Courage to be like Peter. Peter had the courage to step out. He lost his courage to continue on his own, knowing the real dangers and difficulties on all sides. Yet, he regained his courage, to call out once more. And all the time, Jesus was there. There, not to stop the storm immediately, but there to help Peter to safety once again.
A few minutes ago, I began this reflection with comments about two comic-strip characters: Calvin and Hobbes, the friendly tiger. Perhaps, Jesus is not unlike my own friendly tiger. When I believe monsters lurk under my bed, he is there to encourage me to get out from beneath the protective covers and look under the bed, to see that the monsters are not there. And yet, if there be monsters there, he will still be with me to see me to final safety. But the first move is up to me. Only I can pull the covers off and put my feet on the floor. Only I can hear the high winds, the earthquake, and the fire, and still move toward the entrance of my isolating, protecting cave in order to hear, finally, the gentle whisper of my God. Only I can step out of my tossing boat and begin my walk toward Jesus. And when I do, I can hear him say, “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid. Come.”
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary; August 8, 1987; August 11, 1996 (revised); August 7, 2005 (revised)
1 Kg 19:9,11-13; Rom 9:1-5; Mt 14:22-23