Readings (Track 2)

I suppose that our lectionary chose our first reading because it shares two elements with the Gospel reading: people in mortal danger and theophanies (divine appearances) with lots of special effects. But past that? Well, let’s explore.

The prophet Elijah. He’s on Mt. Horeb because he was just on Mt. Carmel in that contest with the 450 priests of Baal. The Lord vindicated him—spectacularly. The priests were executed, and Queen Jezebel, their patroness, has just threatened Elijah with the same fate. He fled, and his flight has taken him to Mt. Horeb, a.k.a., Mt. Sinai. After a brief interchange the Lord announces “the Lord is about to pass by”. A great wind, an earthquake, fire: but the Lord is in none of these. Then “a sound of sheer silence” (that’s the theophany), and the conversation resumes.

The disciples, battered by the waves, far from land, with a contrary wind. That it’s mortal danger is suggested by their reaction on seeing Jesus (“It is a ghost!”). They assume they’re seeing the doorman for their new residence way under the waves. Readers recognize this as a theophany because in Scripture mastery of the sea signals divinity. Recall, for instance, lines from Psalm 77:

¹⁶ When the waters saw you, O God,
when the waters saw you, they were afraid;
the very deep trembled.
…

¹⁹ Your way was through the sea,
your path, through the mighty waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.

So, again, mortal danger and theophany in both texts. But what might the texts be saying?

Within the larger narrative in 1-2 Kings the Lord’s commissions regarding Hazael, Jehu, and Elisha set up the events in the following chapters, eliminating, perhaps, the threat posed by the worship of Baal, but raising as many questions as they answer. And the commissions themselves: what does all that violence have to do with the Lord being not in the wind, earthquake, and fire, but in the “sound of sheer silence”?

Meanwhile, Elijah. Within the Old Testament as a whole he is so formidable a character that the Book of Malachi, the last of the prophetic books, ends with this: “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the LORD comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse” (Mal 4:5-6). Nevertheless, here he’s at a low point. During his journey to Mt. Horeb, we hear him pray “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors” (1 Kgs 19:4). And, most telling, in today’s reading he’s got the same script—he says the same thing—before and after the theophany. Wind, earthquake, fire, “sound of sheer silence:” all that changes nothing.

The Lord’s speech ends with “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” Somehow Elijah’s gotten isolated from those seven thousand: “I alone am left.”

Elijah’s living in a violent time, with plenty of swords and killing apart from the Lord’s commission. Easy to focus on that, so that the seven thousand become invisible—like the “sound of sheer silence”? I wonder if the theophany isn’t a warning that while there is a certain necessity in the swords and killing, don’t expect the Lord to be in it. Why? Well, Jehu’s killings show up in one of the prophet Hosea’s oracles: “I will punish the house of Jehu for the blood of Jezreel” (1:4). As for Elisha, he’s mostly remembered not for the sword, but for acts of mercy, like curing the enemy general Naaman of leprosy (2 Kgs 5).

We’re living in a violent time, and it’s easy to focus on that, so much so that that “sound of sheer silence” could be right in front of us and it wouldn’t register in our scripts.

What of the disciples in that boat? The climax of the story is at the end: “Truly you are the Son of God.” They get it; the theophany has its intended effect. But it’s Peter’s response to Jesus’ self-identification that drops my jaw: “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” In Jesus’ presence the world is bigger, stranger, than he’d imagined—and he wants to be part of it.

That’s risky. It’ll probably end up just as it does end up: after a few steps he “noticed” the strong wind, got frightened, began to sink. And what Matthew wants us to remember is that Jesus was right there to catch him. You don’t need grade-A faith for Jesus to rescue you. It’s risky. It’s worth the risk.

And that scene, in turn, might help us not mishear Paul’s words in our second reading. “For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved.” It’s not that these two organs are all that matter. It’s that “believes with the heart” is self-involving. In Jesus’ presence the world really is bigger, stranger, than we’ve imagined—and despite however much fear and trembling we want to be part of it. “Confess with the mouth:” it’s interpersonal, some version of “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” “And so is saved.” Saved: maybe on dry land, maybe in the wind and waves—with Jesus.

Or maybe the scene is about curiosity. In Jesus’ presence the world is bigger, stranger, than Peter had imagined. So, is Jesus the only one who can be out there on the water? If that’s Jesus out there, what else is true? We could take the story that way, an invitation to curiosity. Inside these walls we talk about this bigger, stranger world. So let us be curious. If that’s true, what else might be true on Monday morning, Wednesday afternoon, Friday evening?

Two postscripts. First, I wonder if Elijah and Peter don’t face similar challenges. It’s one thing to recognize that the Lord isn’t in the wind, earthquake, fire, but in “the sound of sheer silence.” (How many of us can?) It’s another thing to remember that back in the world of swords and killing. It’s one thing to recognize that it’s Jesus out there on the water. It’s another thing to keep paying more attention to Jesus than to the wind and waves.

Second, that scene with Peter suggests another dismissal at the end of the Eucharist we might adopt: “Jesus is out there in the storm saying ‘Come’; let’s go to him.” “Thanks be to God.”