Proper 14, Year A: Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28 | Matthew 14:22-33
Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross
August 9, 2020
Jonathan Hanneman
To watch a video of the sermon, please visit this page (about 23:20 in, in case the link doesn’t drop you at the right place).
“Well, everybody needs a hero, but I’m not everybody else
I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone…
You know, I tried to be a hero, but I was lying to myself
I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone…”[1]
If you listen to alternative radio, you’ve probably heard that song in frequent rotation over the last few months. The band Weezer emerged around the time I was in high school and hit its heyday during my first round of grad school. This, their newest song, captures some of the deeply rooted cynicism of my era. Generation X has tried pretty much everything to get some attention. We tried to please our parents, but it always felt like the previous generations never really gave us any notice. When we eventually rebelled, everyone seemed to be intent on ignoring us or just wrote us off as complainers. Now that we’re successful middle-aged management figures, you would expect us to have some kind of political and social clout. But it feels like the world still looks past us, preferring to cater to both earlier and newer generations. It’s no wonder that so many of us have internalized the song’s bridge:
“…on the inside, I know it won’t last
On the inside, I’m an outcast.”
I wonder if that’s how Reuben felt.
Reuben was the great-grandson of Abraham and the oldest of the children of Israel. He was the first child born to Jacob. But his mother was Leah, the unwanted wife, the one Jacob’s father-in-law tricked him into marrying. Knowing her own rejection, she put a lot of hope into her baby’s name. “Reuben” is a cry for attention. Its primary meaning is, “See—a Son!”[2] Despite his culturally significant position in the family—the oldest son held his father’s authority whenever he wasn’t available and normally inherited the vast majority of his parents’ estate—we hardly know anything about Reuben. The Bible records him doing one good-ish (and unappreciated) thing[3], one bad thing[4], today’s half-hearted attempt to mitigate harm[5], and finally one dumb thing[6]. Reuben is pretty much ignored in favor of his younger, more charismatic, brother Judah and his second-youngest half-brother, Joseph, who, as the firstborn of Jacob’s now deceased true love, Rachel, received the bulk of his father’s attention. Even the tribe descended from Reuben ended up being of minimal importance in the history of Israel.
Although our stories aren’t the same, I think most people of my generation can relate.
I wonder if that’s how the other disciples felt about Peter, too. Peter was one of Jesus’ earliest called disciples, so he would have held some automatic prominence within the group. But the main reason we know Peter is that he tended to be the loudest. Despite his string of pretty-much constant failure, Peter somehow rose above his peers to hold “the keys of the kingdom of heaven”[7] and became one of the most significant figures in Church history. Today our Gospel reading records one of his more unusual achievements: walking on water.
For centuries, preachers have used this passage to urge Christians to greater and greater heights of “faith.” Through Peter’s example, we’re taught that anything is possible if we just believe: moving mountains, seeing Christ’s unveiled glory, even defying the laws of physics. “Be like Peter, and just step out of the boat,” they say. “If you continue on your path without any doubt in your heart, you can do the impossible!”
Maybe it’s the cynicism of me and my peers, but I have trouble with that interpretation. And I imagine the other disciples—the ones we overlook in the scene—would have, too.
Imagine yourself sailing when you’re suddenly caught up in a major—possibly supernatural[8]—storm. You’re far from shore, struggling against the waves and wind. Doing your best to keep from capsizing, you hear your crewmates suddenly cry out about a ghost. The figure speaks in the voice of someone you know, saying, “Don’t worry—it’s just me!” You have at least three choices in the situation:
Assume it’s a delusion caused by your exhaustion and keep struggling to keep the boat afloat and your crew alive;
Risk turning around to pick up your friend (who clearly didn’t have any trouble getting there), or
Make everybody stop what they’re doing and wait—in the middle of the still raging storm—while you try to defy reality in order to prove some kind of esoteric point to yourself.[9]
Which one sounds like the most self-centered option? Or, to use a more modern cliché, “What would Jesus do?” Yet we celebrate Peter’s active endangerment of family and friends as a great victory in religious history.
When we see Jesus himself commend/rebuke Peter, saying “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” we assume he means that if Peter had only believed harder and kept his focus on Christ, he could have kept on walking.
You can interpret Jesus’ words that way, and clearly, many people throughout history have. If you are avoiding something you know you ought to do but just feel timid about it, “step out of the boat” isn’t a bad piece of advice. But there’s another way of looking at this that makes more sense, at least to me.
Remember that the Greek word for faith almost always carries a much stronger sense of fidelity or remaining faithful to something or someone than it does our modern understanding of more or less wishful thinking. Another clue in the scene is that the word behind “doubt” fits a little better with our concept of “waver.” It’s more of a hesitation between two options than an active disbelief. Personally, I suspect that Jesus wasn’t referring to Peter sinking in the waves when he asked his question. It wasn’t that Peter was somehow at fault for not being able to break basic cosmic principles. I think Jesus was talking about how, rather than remaining faithful to the very pressing job he needed to do—that of maintaining both his own and his friends’ lives—Peter turned his attention away—he wavered from his commitment—to try to make himself into some kind of miracle worker. It’s almost like he had headphones on and was rocking out to our song:
“Well everybody needs a hero, but I’m not everybody else
I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone…”
I don’t think Jesus was telling Peter, “You were doing a good job! Why didn’t you believe harder?” I’m pretty sure he was actually saying, “You were faithful, for a time at least—so why did you abandon your post? Why did you stop working?”
We could probably ask Reuben something similar: why did you give up on your own authority? You weren’t a middle child. You weren’t Generation X. Why didn’t you use your inherent power, your culturally and God-sanctioned privilege, to prevent any harm to your brother rather than settling for a lesser evil?
We’re all stuck in the midst of a major storm today, too. A world-wide pandemic, economic distress, and deep ideological divisions swirl around us, bringing seemingly greater chaos by the hour. On top of all our own troubles, our siblings remain under continuing threat of death and oppression. But despite our deep personal exhaustion, surrounded with what seems like a global typhoon, Jesus is shouting, “Don’t worry—it’s just me. I’m coming!”
So what do we do? I see at least three choices:
Pretend nothing’s wrong and long for our old sense of normal.
Stick to the hard work of staying connected and alive as we wait for God to calm the storm, doing our best to work together under seemingly impossible circumstances, or
Jump out of the boat and go it alone, possibly risking everyone else’s lives and efforts in the process.
The only way to truly align ourselves with the way of God—to endure the current storm and to walk the path of righteousness—is to be faithful in our work together, to use what power we do have, not for our own individual advantage, but for the good of the whole.
Honestly, it would probably be a lot easier to jump out of the boat right now. The challenge of maintaining unity when everything is driving us away from each other is not easy, but each of us have a role to play in our day and in the Church. You might feel like everyone’s looking past you, that no one’s paying attention to your effort or struggles, and it truly sucks to experience that. Believe me, my generation knows! But God is working through this terrible night to bring a new day to our world, and the only way we’ll see it is if we continue working together. Our responsibility in this moment is not to be “right.” It’s not to be prominent or famous. And it certainly isn’t to turn everyone’s attention to ourselves as some kind of hero (or martyr). Our job is to be faithful, and to keep being faithful until the storm breaks or we all sink.
Life together is never simple under the best circumstances, and in an emergency, those working the hardest rarely receive much attention or gratitude. Yet we’re all in the same boat. We’re all part of the same crew. We still need each other. COVID-19 may be keeping us apart physically. Other forces are clearly working to further divide us socially and emotionally and to divert us from the work in front of us. But even amid all the distraction, we’re all still in this together. Don’t let this storm lead you to deny your own power, position, and authority to build a world more reflective of the Reign of the Heavens. Don’t abandon your post for some deceptively self-satisfying experience. It may be a struggle, but we all need each other in order to truly reflect Christ.
“You know I tried to be a hero, but I was lying to myself
[I’m not] alone, [no, you’re not] alone, [we don’t] walk alone…”
[1] Weezer. “Hero.” Van Weezer, Atlantic Records, 2020.
[2] https://www.abarim-publications.com/Meaning/Reuben.html#.Xy_VYK-Sk5Y
[3] Genesis 30:14
[4] Genesis 35:22
[5] Genesis 37:21-22
[6] Genesis 42:37
[7] Matthew 16:19
[8] The Greek word for wind, ἄνεμος, could also refer to several different atmospheric gods, including the destructive sons of Typhoeus: https://www.theoi.com/Titan/AnemoiThuellai.html
[9] And possibly a god: see previous note