Gospel according to Saint Matthew 14,22-33:
After He had fed the people, Jesus obliged his disciples to get into the boat and go ahead of him to the other side, while he sent the crowd away. And having sent the people away, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. At nightfall, He was there alone. Meanwhile, the boat was very far from land, dangerously rocked by the waves for the wind was against it.
At daybreak, Jesus came to them walking on the lake. When they saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, thinking that it was a ghost. And they cried out in fear. But at once Jesus said to them, «Courage! Don’t be afraid. It’s me!». Peter answered, «Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you walking on the water». Jesus said to him, «Come». And Peter got out of the boat, walking on the water to go to Jesus. But, in face of the strong wind, he was afraid and began to sink. So he cried out, «Lord, save me!». Jesus immediately stretched out his hand and took hold of him, saying, «Man of little faith, why did you doubt?». As they got into the boat, the wind dropped. Then those in the boat bowed down before Jesus saying, «Truly, you are the Son of God!».
Suffering together…to remain united
Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries
Rome, August 13, 2023 | XIX Sunday in Ordinary Time
1 Kings 19, 9a. 11-13a; Rom 9, 1-5; Mt 14, 22-33
A dangerous mischief. When I was 17 years old, with one of my friends, for several Sundays, we took a rock climbing course, a sport we were both passionate about. We were so enthusiastic, that the first weekend, we decided to put into action what we had learned and went to climb a really dangerous and difficult mountain. It soon became clear that the adventure was beyond our capacity and, on a particularly complicated stretch, we suffered a rather spectacular fall. The rope, thankfully, did its job and it was all just a few bruises.
Of course we recounted the incident to our families, but we watered down the details a bit. But the important thing is that, from that moment on, that scare, that distressing situation became our best bond, something that only we had experienced and from which we miraculously came out alive. For decades, the few times we have seen each other again, that memory has not been absent from our conversation. We could tell others about it, but only we were united by that experience.
—ooOoo—
Today the Gospel speaks to us of a much more dramatic and important event, but which also happened to a group of men, not to a single individual, without forgetting, of course, the very special role of Peter and what Christ, personally, wanted to manifest with His intervention.
This is why the boat in the storm is often compared to the Church, I believe with profound wisdom, because historical difficulties of all kinds show the fulfillment of what Christ announced: persecutions and internal crises in which the Holy Spirit would intervene in an unforeseen way.
But, when some kind of storm shakes a community, large or small, suffering and struggling together creates a new form of unity. Artists have told the story in many ways. Remember H.G. Wells’ novel The War of the Worlds (1898)? In that pioneering work of science fiction, the dreaded Martians invade the earth and everyone tries to fight them with little success. Paradoxically, only some terrestrial bacteria, to which humans have natural immunity, are able to eliminate the dreaded invaders. All humanity, united and confident, begins a new stage of peaceful collaboration, beyond conflicts and envy.
We do not always appreciate the value of the difficult moments we go through as a community, which undoubtedly serve to strengthen our unity and convince us that together we can overcome formidable difficulties. On many occasions, those of us who belong to a work group, a community, or a political party (however corrupt it may be), overcome our differences and setbacks by saying: after all, we are one big family and we have a common future.
But, beyond the emotional effect of these memories, there is the message that God gives us through his special way of caring for those whom he chooses, paradoxically at times, as in today’s Gospel, where Christ seemed to be far away, on the mountain, while the disciples feared for their lives. The Old Testament is full of appeals from the prophets to the people of Israel to remember how God delivered them from terrible evils, such as slavery, famine or enemy tribes.
Even more. Jesus calls himself a Shepherd, who cares attentively for every sheep, for every person in danger, but at the same time says: I have other sheep which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and they shall be one flock with one shepherd (Jn 10: 16).
Even so, we, who call ourselves disciples of Jesus, forget that he came to redeem all humanity, without closing the door to anyone. He does not see human beings as a group of tourists or adventurers in this world, but as a flock that is in danger, often unconsciously.
But there is more: he calls us to give a common witness, a display of love in communion that admires and confounds even the enemies of the Church. That is why the shrewd Roman emperor Julian (4th century) who restored paganism and for which he is called “the Apostate”, was angry with his own pagan priests and said: These impious Galileans not only feed their own poor, but also ours; welcoming them into their agapae, they lure them, as one lures children, with cakes.
I remember our Father and Founder, Fernando Rielo, telling us that the more different we are in age, culture or character, the more opportunities we will have to give a witness of evangelical love. I am convinced that, despite the obvious difficulties of human differences, his words were prophetic.
In our missions with young people, in universities, in parishes, in the city or in rural areas, like the first disciples, who went through external and internal difficulties together, if we forgive each other our awkwardness, the example we can give will be analogous to that of the first Christians, showing the strength of the Spirit in the midst of our weakness.
—ooOoo—
Peter’s attitude in the Gospel narrative is striking. A little earlier, he was terrified with the others because of the strong wind and suddenly gave an unusual display of faith, asking the Master nothing less than to walk on the water. And a little later, “feeling the strength of the wind,” he was again a victim of fear. But he receives a new token of mercy from Christ, who extends his hand to help him.
Let us note that Peter’s fear is profound and represents the most terrifying fears that invade us: death (in many ways, such as to our attachments, to our abilities and physical autonomy, to fame…) and loneliness (abandonment, isolation, separation from a loved one…). Christ uses the occasion to show that he will always be at our side, especially not to avoid us problems, but to make us more aware of our limitations and thus trust Him more. This explains why He tells Peter that he had little faith… but the little he had was enough.
So we have not only moral, psychological and physical limitations, but also of a spiritual nature, such as little faith, little hope and little love. But it happens to us, as it happened to Peter, that this situation, this weakness is transformed by the Holy Spirit with his gifts and makes us capable of strengthening others. Thus, in the Upper Room, Jesus says to Peter: I have prayed for you, that you may not lack faith. And you, when you have turned to me, help your brothers to stand firm (Lk 22: 32).
In fact, just as the astonished disciples saw the wind overcome by Jesus, the people around us, when they contemplate the way we walk – even if we are lame, ignorant and of little faith – will repeat in their hearts the last phrase of today’s Gospel text: There really is the Son of God.
Surely, one of the conclusions for today would be to learn to be more and more aware of his presence. To do this, we have to interpret the small signs, the events that for others do not cease to be coincidences or trifles. This sometimes takes time.
A friend of mine, who is an excellent writer, told me that when she was nine years old, she was given a pen as a present at the Feast of the Three Kings, but a few days later it mysteriously disappeared, had a classmate taken it away? After a week of searching, she asked Baby Jesus to help her find it, and sure enough, it appeared on her desk in the classroom. For her it was the confirmation that she had to dedicate herself to writing and she did so all her life, trying to express her feelings in her stories and using this activity to have a spiritual vision of her life.
But, even better, from then on she was more attentive to the little things that happened to her and learned to read in many events the presence of God, who does not remain in the tranquility of the mountain, but comes down to our side in the storms.
Precisely, today’s First Reading, the famous story of Elijah hiding in the cave of Mount Horeb, also terrified for fear of losing his life at the hands of the Israelites. On this occasion, God also makes himself present in a subtle way, like a soft and delicate breeze, which contrasts with the violence of the earthquake, the wind that splits the rocks and the fire.
Today we do not believe in ghosts, although some researchers of the mind say that these beliefs help people to define their fears and anxieties, to embody them in a being that our imagination constructs. But in truth, then and now, our minds are confused by the world, by difficulties and passions. Fears enslave us, blind us.
St. Paul, in the Second Reading, gives us an impassioned description of how following Christ leads us to a surprising freedom, which leads him to be willing to be anathema, willing to be, paradoxically, separated from Christ. It is a very powerful state of ecstasy, for it is based on contemplating in a new way the action of God in the chosen people, with such force that he cares little about his own life, suffering or future. It disposes us to walk on the troubled waters of our fears. As St. John says: If anyone is afraid, it is because he has not come to love perfectly (1Jn 4:18).
That ecstasy, far from seeking sensations or emotions, is a gift of the Holy Spirit that has been described by many saints as the fruit of authentic abnegation. That explains why St. John of the Cross wrote:
To reach satisfaction in all
desire satisfaction in nothing.
To come to possess all
desire the possession of nothing.
To arrive at being all
desire to be nothing.
To come to the knowledge of all
desire the knowledge of nothing.
_______________________________
In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,
Luis CASASUS
President
