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Elijah, God, incredible, Jesus, Kings, Matthew, ordinary, Peter, recognize, storm, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, walk on water
How does God get your attention? How do you pray for God to attend to you? When God shows up, do you recognize and accept how God comes? Today’s lectionary readings hold examples of two such situations for our consideration.
In the first, we have the story of Elijah the prophet on the mountain of Horeb who was instructed by God to leave the cave where he had found shelter in order to encounter “the Lord who will be passing by.” All sorts of wild signs arose: heavy wind, earthquake, fire…extraordinary conditions that might suggest such an extraordinary vision – but no, the Lord was in none of those signs. Thank goodness Elijah was astute enough to recognize the Lord “in a tiny whispering sound” or he would have missed God’s visitation. (1 KGS 19: 9-13) So God might show up anywhere, any time and we need to be ready for the unexpected.
In the gospel, there is also an unexpected event – a storm on the sea – when Jesus is off on a mountain by himself and the disciples are in a boat with waves crashing mightily against it, suggesting it might sink. This time, God sends Jesus walking toward them and they don’t recognize him because he is – like in the Book of Kings – coming in a way that seems impossible. He’s walking on the water. Peter, the impetuous one, challenges the vision that they think is a ghost by saying, “If it’s you, tell me to come to you across the water.” When Jesus says, “Come,” Peter jumps in and does fine until he remembers that he is doing something impossible so he starts to sink. Jesus saves him, of course. (MT 14: 22-33)
So whether God shows up in the ordinary, or in some totally incredible circumstance, we need to be ready and open to accept and respond to what comes to us, even if it calls us to trust what seems impossible, in order to have an experience that is beyond anything we have ever known.
There is a line from Matthew’s gospel in the story called variously “the loaves and the fishes” or “the feeding of the five thousand” (CH 14) that always goes straight to my heart. It appears today and catches me as usual. It is late in a day that began with Jesus trying to escape the crowds to grieve the death of John the Baptist. Failing that, Jesus responds to the needs in what has turned into a long and likely tiring session of healing people. The narrative picks up with the apostles saying to Jesus that he ought to send the people away because it’s late and there’s no availability of food to buy in the deserted place where they are. They will need to go to one of the villages nearby to buy food. There is no need for them to go away, Jesus says. Give them something to eat yourselves. The gospel continues with the miracle of feeding the whole crowd on five loaves and two small fish.
One of the extraordinary events in the life of Jesus, chronicled in all three of the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke), is known as the Transfiguration. That word when broken apart speaks to a process of changing form, which is what happened to Jesus and was witnessed by the apostles Peter, James and John one day on a high mountain where they had gone to pray. It is a familiar story. For those interested in detail, it is a great chance to question and muse about the what and why of the incident as each of the three versions in the gospels has small, distinctive differences, none of which changes the substance of the event.
Today’s lectionary readings seem to point out two basic attitudes to life. I often smile when I read the text from 2 Corinthians (4:7-15) where Paul reminds me of the play when the “Unsinkable Molly Brown” sings (as the Titanic is sinking), “I ain’t down yet!” Paul says, “We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed…” He is so full of zeal for the mission of Jesus that nothing can stop him. I am always amazed when I read of his travels in The Acts of the Apostles, knowing that a trip in his day has absolutely no comparison to mine. What took Paul months on the sea or overland might cost me a few hours on a plane. Paul’s attitude was that of a consummate optimist; he was willing to suffer anything for what he knew of Christ and wanted to share.
While I’m not certain that the adage “Seeing is believing” came as a conclusion from the story of Thomas, the Apostle who was missing when Jesus appeared in the Upper Room on Easter evening, it certainly applies in that case. It’s difficult to believe what we have not seen with our own eyes (our physical selves) and thereby experienced as true. How is it that we come to believe what we cannot comprehend with our “ordinary minds?” Moreover, what is it that so stirs a person to envision the possibility of something that has never been done – and then to carry the process forward until that possibility becomes a reality? It seems that great inventors must not only be gifted with vision but with steadfast perseverance. And then there is the willingness of those who come after that visionary soul to continue the work. I think here of scientists and medical advancement and immediately my favorite example in a different but related sphere comes to mind. I’m fond of saying, “Kitty Hawk to the moon in 66 years” as the miracle of flight astounds me each time I feel the take-off moment from inside a plane.
One of the “tricky” faculties of the human mind is our ability to judge. We need to be “razor-sharp” in using the quality of discrimination – knowing first the two sides of that “coin” – while refraining from making judgments based on insufficient information, hearsay or our own narrow perspective. To clarify what might sound rather complicated in that sentence, I have two examples.
Today is The Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, a designation that makes me, as a “cradle Catholic,” sit up and take notice. It’s the words Solemnity and Most that call attention to the holiness of Jesus as the model for life. In this way, my focus shifts from the beating and bleeding heart in the images of Jesus on the walls of many Catholic homes to a deeper consciousness that does not negate the truth of that devotion but expands and personalizes it in a new way. Lest the reader assume that I have left tradition behind, it seems important to mention that I have an image of the Sacred Heart in my prayer space at home. It is the totality of the symbols – the face of Jesus, the heart and fire illuminating it – and yes, drops of blood as a sign of his life’s sacrifice – that guides my prayer toward love each day.
Sometimes my thoughts have a strange way of coming together. Often two or more unrelated things give me a basis for conclusion that make me scratch my head and say, “Where did that come from?” Today is one of those days – a serendipitous collision of a passing thought with the morning lectionary reading that may or may not “work” in the world outside my mind. Here goes:
There is a line in John’s gospel, showing up in the lectionary readings for today, that I would wager most of us would claim as impossible to believe. Jesus is in the early stages of his “farewell discourse” and trying to impress upon those closest to him that they really will be able to carry on without him because he will remain close to them in Spirit. In JN 14:12 we hear the following promise: Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I do and will do greater ones than these…
I was on the internet yesterday checking driving directions to the location of the retreat center I will be visiting next week. It was astonishing how quickly I came to know not only how to get there but also how many miles I would travel depending on which of two possible routes I take (with a map available for each) and how long (to the minute!) it would take to arrive at my destination – including the indication of how dense the traffic might be. Although this service of mapquest – or google maps or another site – is quite efficient, there was a tiny twinge of sadness associated with the exercise. I have always loved maps and figuring out the best way to reach a destination was always satisfying for me. No matter. The important thing is arriving at the destination, I suppose, even though the journey itself can be engaging and instructive if sometimes confusing.