Sermon for Tenth Sunday after Trinity. We are Sailing.

Service intro notes

Both our bible readings speak of God's mastery of the elements, especially of the sea.

Nave - Latin navis (“ship”)

Rib-vaulted ceiling was frequently compared to the inverted hull of a ship

The Church is the ark or ship that carries the faithful through the world’s storms toward the safe harbour of heaven.

1 Peter 3:20–21 – church as an ark sailing on the waters of baptism.

Peter's Barque

Psalm 77: 13 - 19

13 Your ways, God, are holy.

What god is as great as our God?

14 You are the God who performs miracles;

you display your power among the peoples.

15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,

the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.

16 The waters saw you, God,

the waters saw you and writhed;

the very depths were convulsed.

17 The clouds poured down water,

the heavens resounded with thunder;

your arrows flashed back and forth.

18 Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,

your lightning lit up the world;

the earth trembled and quaked.

19 Your path led through the sea,

your way through the mighty waters,

though your footprints were not seen.

Matthew 14

²² Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd.

²³ After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, ²⁴ but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.

²⁵ During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. ²⁶ When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. It's a ghost, they said, and cried out in fear. ²⁷ But Jesus immediately said to them: Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid.

²⁸ Lord, if it's you, Peter replied, tell me to come to you on the water. ²⁹ Come, he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came towards Jesus. ³⁰ But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, Lord, save me! ³¹ Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. You of little faith, he said, why did you doubt? ³² And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. ³³ Then those who were in the boat worshipped him, saying, Truly you are the Son of God.

In our reading from Psalm 77 we heard a poetic description of the mastery of God over nature, especially the oceans.

‘The waters saw you, O God, the waters saw you and writhed; the very depths were convulsed.’ The Psalmist may be dramatising the Red Sea opening before Israel as they fled Pharaoh’s chariots. There may also be a reference to creation, when ‘darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.’

God commanding the deep waters in creation, and in the flight from slavery in Egypt, the bible piles image on image, story on story. The image of the chaotic stormy sea yielding to God's command is an image of God’s infinite power to order Creation.

This is theology written as poetry. When reading the bible you have to remember that while we strive to express our ideas in precise words or formulas, the ancients often expressed themselves in pictures of the imagination.

In Matthew, the disciples struggle in their little boat against the threatening chaos of the sea. It is the last watch of the night, and out of the dimly awakening morning light a figure strides across the water.

The Psalmist had written of God, ‘Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters.’ No wonder that Matthew writes, ‘those who were in the boat worshipped him, saying, truly you are the Son of God.’

I have heard some unconvincing attempts to explain this miracle away; that perhaps there was a thin layer of ice, or maybe a shallow reedy edge to the lake, and either of these may have made it appear as if Jesus was walking on water.

Some people find the idea of miracles perplexing, as if Almighty God is bound by our expectations.

The disciples in the boat were fishermen, they had lived by its shores all their lives, and daily they went to fish on its waters. They would have known the lake in all weathers, at all times of day, in all seasons. They would probably have smelt of mud, and fish, and boats.

Matthew writes , ‘When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. It's a ghost, they said, and cried out in fear.’

This was something way beyond their normal experience, something they couldn't explain with their knowledge of the lake, so at first they sought a supernatural explanation – a ghost.

Once they regained their wits, the disciples worshipped Jesus as the Son of God, just as we are doing this morning in this our boat. For them, this was a Psalm come to life.

Our church is a boat in which we sail through the oceans of time together as a community of the Disciples of Christ. The design of our boat is Apostolic, that is, formed by the faith of those first disciples.

If the shallow reedy edge to the lake deceived the disciples, then we too are deceived. Without the miracle, that is the revelation of the nature of God, the whole logic and poetry of Matthew’s story falls apart.

We read that Peter sank because he took his eyes off Jesus, and looked at the storm, maybe he recalled people cannot walk on water. Fear replaced faith and the dark swirling chaos, began to engulf him. So he cried out, ‘Lord, save me’.

That was the right thing to do. In Hebrew The name Jesus means, ‘the Lord saves’. Our fears are always waiting to engulf us, to sweep over our heads and drag us down. Fear is like the ocean - primal, and at times seemingly beyond our control.

So, we are inclined to stay within the relative safety of our little boats. Yet worry, like a creeping dampness, can eat away at our security, mouldering the timbers, or panic can overwhelm us like waves smashing over the sides of a boat.

At such times God can seem awesome yet remote, infinitely strong yet uncaring, like the blackened stormy sky over our heads promising only condemnation.

In the Old Testament God can seem mighty but without mercy, Job said of God,

‘He shakes the earth from its place and makes its pillars tremble. He speaks to the sun and it does not shine; he seals off the light of the stars. He alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea. He is the Maker of the Bear and Orion, the Pleiades and the constellations of the south. He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted.’

So often we are caught between the darkness of chaos and the coming splendour of God’s light, fearful in our little boats, feeling lost on the sea of time.

Then in the dim morning light a figure strides across the troubled sea: Jesus, whose name means ‘the Lord Saves.’

God comes to us in mercy as a man of flesh and blood.

For a moment you walk on the water. Then fear drowns faith, the darkness encompasses you, and you cry out for help. Jesus holds out his nail-scarred hand: ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ You reach out, and he hauls you into the boat.

In Jesus, God is no longer vast as the ocean or distant as the stars; he is with you in the boat.

Jesus is God with us in our fragile vessel sailing upon the sea of time - until the day when we arrive on that far shore beyond the reach of storms and the swirling deep, safe with our Father God.

Amen.