Imagine it is the fourth hour of the night, between 3 to 6 a.m. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon. If Father John is in his usual breakfast place, he’s on the porch sipping English tea and pondering his homily for the Sisters’ Mass as he observes the rising sun coming up. He might take a photo if the sky is beautifully lit up.
Let’s return to Jesus’ story. Earlier, He had shepherded his disciples into a boat and pushed them further out into the lake. Jesus himself headed toward one of his favorite places for solitude, up the hillside by himself. Out on the lake, until a few minutes ago, everyone in the boat had been asleep or in that twilight state between sleep and alertness, that brief moment when you’re not quite sure if you’re awake or dreaming. Suddenly, the rocking of the boat shook them all awake. Gasping for air they shouted to each other: “Where’s Jesus?”
Then Peter spied Jesus in the mist and heard “Come!” At Jesus’ beckoning, Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. As long as he kept his eyes on Jesus, his feet found steady grounding even in the churning sea. It’s difficult, isn’t it, to keep your eyes on the goal when there is a whirlwind swirling around you. But remember, as long as we keep our eyes focused on Jesus, on our overall goal, and on each other, we’ll stay afloat with a tangible sense of peace.
Now, don’t disregard the fact that it was early dawn when Jesus came toward his disciples walking on the water. You may have to squint until your eyes adjust to the darkness to make out clearly your surroundings. But listen! It’s not a ghost. There is a whisper that, strange as it seems, is booming over the sound of the threatening waves of the storms in life: “Do not be afraid. It is I.”
Jesus is reaching out a hand toward us, but it will fall empty to his side if we do not reach out in return. Jesus, in the person of our donors, reaches out with eager hands to help us. For the gift to be received we simply have to grasp their hands in ours in acceptance of their generosity. We strive to respond without fear when we see them walking on the water toward us with their gift of self. Like impulsive Peter, we speak up: “If that is really you, Lord, command me to come to you on the water.”
At this point in our lives, that moment has come as we move into American House. We’ve left behind the safety and security of the known at the monastery building. We’ve stepped into the realm of the unknown. We must be willing to trust our life to our God’s care. It’s difficult to leave our safety nets. We worked hard to insulate ourselves from the danger of failure. The threat of the unknown can be paralyzing. It’s pretty comfortable in the boat we’ve constructed. It’s not fancy but we have everything we need. Then God invites us to step out of our boat and venture into an unknown future.
Jesus repeats, “Come.” Why did Jesus not go to Peter; why did he beckon him to “come”? That’s the lesson for us. We can’t sit, as they say, on our laurels, in our boat and do nothing. When the storms of life are blowing all around us, Jesus says: COME. Like a parent coaxing an infant to take a first step or like Elijah in the First Reading, you’ll hear a tiny whispering sound: COME! Come apart and rest in Me. I am always within reach. Grab that life jacket or that raft or an inner tube and get those arms and legs moving. SWIM! Pray, yes, but don’t forget to paddle, swim or row. Take your time if you need to; catch your breath. And don’t worry about calming the storm; Jesus promises “I’ll take care of that. You just calm yourself. Look around. You will spot me in the mist, beckoning to you: COME!”
~Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB
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