Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
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Philip and Andrew have done the math in today’s Gospel, estimating the number of people in the crowd, how many loaves of bread it would take to feed them, and the cost of a loaf of bread. One fish for every 2500 people and one loaf for every 1000 people. Their conclusion is that there is not enough to go around.
It seems that’s how we often approach and see life – by doing the numbers. We count what is there, though we more often focus on what is not there. Soon the reality of our circumstances limits us to the possibilities of what might be. Our vision becomes narrow and our world small. We see through the lens of scarcity, unable to imagine or see a way forward, unable to see the Christ in our midst.
Jesus was not asking these disciples to do the math when he asked about the bread. It was a test. Would Philip and Andrew look around or would they look within? Would they see with their physical eyes or with the eyes of their heart? Would they focus on what was not there or would they focus on Jesus? The issue was not a lack of fish and bread but a lack of vision. The abundance of God’s presence is hidden in plain view and often within the illusion of scarcity. Abundance is less a resource to be counted and more an interior quality, a way of being and seeing. Every day we encounter the 5000 – in ourselves, our relationships, our work, our faith, our challenges and our hopes.
This lack of vision is further emphasized in today’s Gospel as the disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee. All the evangelists but Luke include variations on the feeding story and couple it to the crossing of a stormy sea. The details vary. Sometimes with Jesus peacefully asleep in the stern of the boat, or as today, with him walking across the water to their rescue. In all the stories the disciples are quick to link their fear to Jesus whether sleeping peacefully or seeing him as ghost. “Do you not care that we are perishing?”, they say in one instance as they wake him, unable to see that he is in the same boat with them. In the end, each Evangelist asserts that Jesus joined his disciples on the sea to bestow calm and peace. In John, when they recognize him, they want to receive him into the boat and immediately they safely reach the land. Seeing and receiving are followed immediately by calm and peace. We may have never crossed the Sea of Galilee, but we’ve all been in that boat, making a stormy crossing from one place to another.
These are stories about life, faith, and fear. Wherever you find one you will find all three. The sea of life can be rough, the wind strong, the waves high. We all know what that’s like. Each of us could tell a storm story of our own. Some of them may start with the choices we’ve made. Others about the difficulty of relationships, of hopes and plans that fell apart. Some storms seem to arise out of nowhere and take us by surprise. Others build as we watch. Storms happen. Storms of loss, suffering, confusion, failure, loneliness, disappointment, regret, and uncertainty. Regardless of when or how they arise, storms are about changing conditions. Things don’t go our way. Circumstances seem out of our control. Order gives way to chaos.
Amid the storm today Jesus sees their predicament and approaches the boat, surrounded by the same water, wind, and waves. In their lack of vision, what they see is not Jesus, but a ghost, which terrifies them even more. Fear will do that. While the disciples fret and panic, Jesus walks steadily toward them, revealing that the greater storm and the real threat is not a ghost or the wind, waves, and water around them--- the circumstances in which they find themselves--- but those within them. The real storm, the more threatening storm, is always the one that rages within us.
That interior storm is the one that blows us off course, beats against our faith, and threatens to drown us. Fear, vulnerability, and powerlessness blow within us. The sense of abandonment, judgment and criticism of ourselves and others are the waves that pound us. Too often anger, isolation, cynicism, or denial become our shelter from the storm.
Whether in the feeding story or the sea crossing, the disciples have been pointing to what is going on outside them. Jesus’ arrival now points to what is going on inside them. “It is I, do not be afraid” or “Peace! Be still!” He isn’t changing the weather conditions but inviting the disciples to change, speaking to the wind and the waves within them. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” His words are more about us than the circumstances of our lives.
Faith does not change the storm. It changes us. Faith does not take us around the storm but through the storm. Faith allows us to see and know that Jesus is in the same boat with us. It is what allows us to be still, to be at peace, within the storm, so that we do not have to interiorize it.
There is a real danger in the kind of theology and understanding of faith that says that if we have enough, we will overcome the storms of life. We will transcend the laws of nature, physics, biology. That’s more about magic than faith. Regardless of how much faith we have, diseases take a toll, accidents happen, loved ones die. Despite our faith life is difficult, we don’t always get what we want. No matter how strong our faith, the sea of life can be rough and stormy.
The feeding of the five thousand and the disciples’ voyage across the sea is a passage from one kind of faith to another. It’s the journey from faith used to escape life’s storms to a faith that carries us through them; from an external faith of physical presence and proof to an interior faith of spiritual presence; from a faith dependent on the circumstance of our life to one that sees and experiences Christ present regardless of what is going on around us. Will we interiorize the storm or Jesus’ peace? Do we put our faith in the power of the storm or in the power of God in Christ?
The Spirit of God blows through and within us more mightily than the winds of any storm. The power of God is stronger than any wave that beats against us. The love of God is deeper than any water that threatens to drown us. In every storm Jesus is present, and his response is always the same, “It is I; do not be afraid.” “Peace! Be still!” +Amen.
