Readings (Track 1)

Back in mid-June we heard the beginning of the Abraham story with those grand promises of land, posterity, and blessing. Today, a few generations down the line, the whole thing is skidding into the ditch. Jacob has learned nothing about reigning in favoritism, Joseph’s emotional intelligence only has room to improve, and Joseph’s brothers have just sold him to traders headed for Egypt. The smart money might be on the Bible ending at the end of today’s reading.

Then there’s the Gospel. Jesus has sent the disciples off to cross the lake and—at night—they’re battered by the waves, far from the land, the wind against them. So the next chapter will start with Jesus choosing a new batch of disciples?

This, I suppose, is the first thing to notice from these readings: the scenes at the end of the Genesis reading and toward the beginning of the Matthew reading look like endings. By God’s intervention, they’re not, and that might nourish our courage as we face the various situations that have “The End” written all over them.

Next week’s Genesis reading picks up the story years later, and we might wonder how Joseph gets transformed. The Joseph of today’s reading: the fulfillment of his dreams would be very bad news for everyone! So, if you have the chance, read the intervening chapters during the week. They picture a world that should feel familiar. Two quick examples. Potiphar’s wife accuses Joseph of trying to rape her. Potiphar’s obvious response would be to execute Joseph on the spot, but he sends him off to prison because—reading between the lines—that’s easier than confronting his wife over her preferred recreational activities. Pharaoh’s cupbearer’s memory: he first “forgets” and then “remembers” Joseph. This has nothing to do with his memory; it has everything to do with his calculations as to when it’s in his self-interest to keep silent or speak up. And in that world with so many shades of gray Joseph’s God is still able to get things done.

Matthew’s story. It’s obviously a rescue story. It’s equally a sort of epiphany story. The Lord walking on the waters: that’s a frequent OT motif:

From the Book of Job, describing God: “who alone stretched out the heavens and trampled the waves of the Sea;” [9:8]

From the prophet Habakkuk, speaking to God: “You trampled the sea with your horses, churning the mighty waters.” [3.15]

From the Psalms, also speaking to God: “Your way was through the sea, your path, through the mighty waters; yet your footprints were unseen.” [77:19]

And in this scene what had been literary motif becomes part of the narrative.

And then there’s Jesus’ response: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” “It is I” is a legitimate translation; but the Greek “egō eimi” also appears as a form of divine self-identification. So, for example, “You are my witnesses, says the LORD, my servant, whom I chose, so that you would know and believe me and understand that I am” (Isa. 43:10 CEB*; cf 45:18, 19; 46:4; 51:12).

So Matthew ends the story with “And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God,’” giving “worshiped” and “Son of God” their full weight. (In Matthew’s Gospel this occurs a few chapters before the Transfiguration story we heard last week, and serves as a sort of run-up to it.)

And in the middle of the story a twist unique to Matthew: After Jesus’ “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid” we read “Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus.”

I am in awe of Peter at this moment, because he gets it right. Think of what he could have said:
“Lord, if it is you, how come all this is happening to us?”
“Lord, if it is you, what were you thinking when you sent us off into this storm?”
“Lord, if it is you, make it all stop now.”
No: “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Let me do what you’re doing.

Rabbi Kuschner starts his famous book (now in a 20^th Anniversary edition) with this: “There is only one question which really matters: why do bad things happen to good people.” Perhaps the book gets better, but it’s not off to a good start, because neither Testament of our Bible is particularly interested in this question. The Bible’s question is how God is overcoming evil and how we are invited into that process. Not “make it stop” but “let me walk on it too.”

In the Book of Acts, when the church first meets persecution, we meet the same attitude in the church’s prayer: “And now, Lord, look at their threats.” And make them stop? No: “and grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.”

There’s a case to be made for chutzpah as one of the underrated gifts of the Spirit.

But back to Peter. Jesus responds to Peter’s request with one word: “‘Come.’ So Peter gets out of the boat, starts walking on the water, coming toward Jesus. But then his attention shifts to the strong wind, he becomes frightened, and begins to sink; “Lord, save me!”

Well, that’s familiar territory. G. K. Chesterton put it superbly: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” Not that we should be content with doing it badly, but sometimes badly is the best we can do. And the Peter who gets out of the boat is the Peter who later stands in front of the crowd at Pentecost, who walks into the Gentile centurion Cornelius’ house to preach Jesus. Walking on the water was warm-up.

So, whether it’s situations that look like “The End” or “Bad Things Happening to Good People,” the good news for Joseph, Peter, and us is that God finds us, comes to us. And with that there’s Peter as a model: hunkering down in the boat is not our only option. How might today’s Gospel color the way we experience the coming week and how we respond to it?