Proper 14 / Ordinary Time 19
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
Faith always involves an element of risk.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Joseph Is Sold Into Slavery
The Joseph cycle goes on for many chapters in the book of Genesis. Today and next week, the lectionary includes excerpts from the story. This week's installment focuses on Joseph's betrayal by his brothers. Verses 1-4 speak of Jacob's gift to him of an elegant "long robe with sleeves" -- a kingly garment, unsuited to the rough shepherd's life of his brothers (earlier translations speak of "a coat of many colors"). This coat served as a constant reminder that "their father loved him more than all his brothers," allowing him to live a soft, protected life in the camp. Skipping over the account of Joseph's early dreams -- which further incite his brothers' hatred, for they show them bowing subserviently to him -- the lectionary moves on to tell how Joseph's brothers sell him into slavery. Their original plan is to murder "the dreamer," but Reuben intercedes on his behalf, convincing them to beat him and throw him into a pit instead (from which the good-hearted Reuben plans to rescue him, later -- verse 22). Reuben's scheme is foiled, however, when the brothers abruptly decide to sell him as a slave to a passing caravan of Ishmaelites (v. 28). The brothers' cynical dismissal of Joseph, as they plan to murder him ("we shall see what will become of his dreams"), is a reminder that the dreamers and visionaries among us all too often incite irrational fear in others, who subject them to persecution.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 10:5-15
Salvation Offered To Everyone
Continuing his discussion of salvation, which is available to Jew and Gentile alike, Paul cites Leviticus 18:5, "You shall keep my statutes and ordinances; by doing so, one shall live." Yes, he says, one could be saved by obedience to the law -- if it is possible for a human being to be so thoroughly obedient. Then, he quotes Deuteronomy 30:12-13, about the Lord's commandments being neither up in the heavens nor down in the depths, but close at hand. Yes, the commandments are near to us, he says, because Jesus Christ is among us. The apostle provides a simple formula for salvation: "if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved" (v. 9). There are two essentials of Christian belief here: 1) that Jesus is Lord, and 2) that he was raised from the dead and lives today. Because it is equally possible for Jew or Gentile to make this confession, it is equally possible for both to be saved. Paul supports this contention with two citations from the Hebrew scriptures: "No one who believes in him will be put to shame" (Isaiah 28:16) and "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (Joel 2:32). This, of course, requires the work of witnesses to spread the good news (verses 14-15). This passage is difficult to preach -- for Paul's argument is heady, fast-moving, and relies on relatively obscure Old Testament passages. What should be emphasized, however, is not those who could be excluded from salvation -- those who rely on legalism alone -- but, rather, those who are included. This is everyone who earnestly calls on the name of the Lord.
The Gospel
Matthew 14:22-33
Jesus Walks On Water
The last time Jesus tried to find some solitude, the crowd pressed upon him and he fed them miraculously (last week's gospel lesson, 14:13-21). This time, he succeeds in getting away from the multitude and sends even the disciples off by boat as he climbs a mountain to pray. By nightfall, the disciples have not yet returned because conditions are stormy and the wind is against them. To their amazement and terror, Jesus walks out to them, across the sea (v. 25). Matthew's description of the wild weather conditions suggests that Jesus is coming out to save them; not simply to demonstrate his supernatural power. The Lord will stop at nothing to save a soul at risk. Despite Jesus' assurances that it is he, and not a ghost, the disciples are still not sure about this, so Peter asks Jesus to invite him out onto the water. Jesus does so, and Peter does all right at first until he becomes frightened and starts to sink (v. 30). His cry is the prototypical cry of the sinner: "Lord, save me!" Jesus does save him asking, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" (v. 31). As Jesus and Peter climb into the boat, the wild wind ceases and all worship him as the Son of God. This miracle-story is more than a natural wonder. It is a parable of faith. As long as Peter keeps his eye on Jesus, he is safe, but the minute he turns his attention to the storm, he is lost. Jesus' expression, "You of little faith," is always applied, in the gospel of Matthew, to people who have faith already. The Lord is chiding Peter not for having a deficit of faith, but rather for failing to use the faith he already has.
Preaching Possibilities
Walking on water. There's an enduring fascination with this story, which occurs in three out of the four gospels (Matthew 14:22-33; Mark 6.45-52; John 6.15-21). Of all the miracle-stories recorded in the New Testament, this one just may be the flashiest.
So is that why the gospel-writers tell it? Is that why this story's been preserved all these years -- because it was a pretty keen trick, surpassing anything Harry Houdini or Criss Angel could ever pull off?
No, the reason this story is told and retold is because there's wisdom in it -- wisdom about the life of faith and how to live it.
Let's set the scene. Jesus and his disciples have just received fearsome and terrible news: John the Baptist has been executed. John, that great prophet of righteousness, was killed because of a promise King Herod made to his stepdaughter, Salome, offering her anything she asked. She demanded John's head on a platter.
News of John's execution would have surely sent a chill down the spine of each and every one of Jesus' disciples. Suddenly, what they had all been doing together sounded dangerous. Who could say which of their heads might soon be resting on a platter?
They'd gone, then, from anxiety to jubilation, as Jesus had somehow fed a crowd of 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish. How had he done it? Not a one of them could say. But they were beginning to realize that this man they called Master was powerful in ways they could scarcely imagine.
Now, as this story opens, Jesus has gone off by himself and some of his disciples are in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. A fierce storm blows up in no time at all. Suddenly, they're fighting for their lives, bailing for all they're worth. Whoever's hand is on the tiller is struggling to keep their little craft pointed into the wind.
Then they see him. There, off to one side of the boat: a man walking on the water. They suppose he's some kind of apparition, so they're afraid. "Take heart," he says, "it is I; do not be afraid."
Then Peter says the strangest thing: "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." Who knows why he says those words, or what he means by them? Maybe Peter's proposing to test this apparition, to see if it's real. Or maybe he's simply trying to get the jump on his companions, so he can be first in line to try it.
Whatever the case, when Jesus does command Peter to come, without hesitation he sets one foot over the gunwhale, then the other. To his amazement, he too is walking on the water!
But then, Peter looks down. Big mistake. What does he see in that moment of sheer terror? What this tough old fisherman sees is only the same waters he's sailed on all his life -- waters that never once held him high and dry, as they're doing now. With a great flailing of arms and shouting for help, Peter begins to sink.
"Save me!" he cries -- and just then, quick as you please, someone catches hold of his wrist and pulls him up. "You of little faith," this one gently chides, "why did you doubt?"
Jesus and Peter climb into the boat, and immediately the storm ceases to rage. "Truly, you are the Son of God," they confess, one and all.
So why does Jesus do it? To impress and astound? Or to teach them something very profound?
It's to teach them. This story of walking on the water communicates, as no other set of statements could, the risks and fears involved in the life of faith.
Faith is a risky business. We easily forget that as we put on nice clothes and come to church on a lovely summer morning. Did any of us risk a thing in choosing to come to worship this morning -- unless it was getting caught in traffic on the way over, or maybe making an extra pass around the block hunting for a parking place?
But that's not how it always is in the life of faith. We all know there are times of personal challenge when faith doesn't come easy -- when there's struggle or pain, when every possible choice threatens unhappiness, when the valley of the shadow of death (whatever that phrase may mean for us) is all too near. In such dreadful moments, the choice between faith and no-faith looms in all its stark simplicity. A part of us fears it will make no difference, ultimately, which option we choose.
Faith, by its very nature, is a risky business; but, as the playwright Neil Simon has written, "If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor." Our first response, in tough times, is often to turn inward, looking deep within ourselves for strength. We may be surprised how deep and enduring are the resources we discover there.
Yet, the time will come when our own inner reserves are not sufficient. Then, it's decision time: time to realize firsthand the truth learned by one Christian who reflects: "When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly."
When Peter steps out of that boat onto the open water, there's one thing he quickly realizes (if, indeed, he's not thought it already): He does not have within himself the power to do the thing he has set out to do. Peter can't walk on water; he knows it. Every voice of reason within him is crying out, "No! This is impossible." But, step out, he does. He steps out because, at that very moment, he is looking into the eyes of his master and reaching for his hand, and those eyes and that hand tell him he can do it. And, so he can -- at least for a moment, at least until he breaks eye contact. For then, as Matthew tells it, in a marvel of understatement, Peter "notices the strong wind." He gets distracted from the one who gives him strength. He begins to sink -- and then it's only the grip of Jesus' hand upon his wrist that holds him up.
C.S. Lewis has described faith in this way:
"God designed the human machine to run on himself. He is the fuel our spirits were designed to burn... That is why it is no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about religion. God cannot give us a happiness apart from himself, because there is no such thing."
Faith is not some virtue we practice. It is a gift we are given by almighty God, mediated through our Lord, Jesus Christ. We do not generate it from within, but we do need to claim the gift. We do need to respond to the Lord's invitation. We do need to leave the safety and familiarity of the boat.
If we're going to walk on water, the only way to start is by getting our feet wet.
Prayer For The Day
Lord Jesus,
our lives are often stormy,
but you calm the storm.
Our lives are often messy,
but you point the way to the pearl of great price,
before which the value of everything else fades away.
Our lives are often filled with doubt,
but you extend a hand to us,
saying, "Come."
The next time you extend that invitation,
may we say, "Yes,"
with our whole heart. Amen.
To Illustrate
There have been strange things done in the name of tourism. Take a drive across this country (or even a good-sized chunk of it) and you'll see plenty of signs of that.
I'm speaking, of course, about that great American institution, the Roadside Attraction.
In Darwin, Minnesota, for instance, you can visit the World's Largest Ball of Twine -- twelve feet in diameter. It took one Francis A. Johnson 39 years to make it, working four hours a day.
In Chester, West Virginia, you can stop your car and take a gander at the World's Largest Teapot.
Blue Earth, Minnesota, is home to a 55-foot statue of the Jolly Green Giant. They must grow a lot of vegetables in Blue Earth.
In Alliance, Nebraska, you can visit "Carhenge," a replica of England's famous "Stonehenge" -- constructed entirely of junked automobiles spray-painted gray.
And let us not forget New Jersey's Lucy the Elephant, in Margate -- the only elephant designated a National Historical Landmark.
Yes, there have been strange things done in the name of tourism. Yet, none is stranger than a project recently proposed in Israel. I'm not sure they ever actually constructed this thing, although newspapers around the world were reporting its plans two years ago.
It seems the Israeli National Parks Authority approved a developer's proposal to construct a submerged, transparent bridge in a small part of the Sea of Galilee. The crescent-shaped bridge, located a few inches below the surface of the water, would allow tourists the opportunity to get their pictures taken "walking on water," as Jesus did.
So as not to spoil the effect, architectural plans for the thirteen-foot-wide bridge included no protective guardrails; the plan was to have lifeguards standing by in rescue boats, just in case some absent-minded tourist happened to step off the edge. (BBC News report, "Pilgrims To 'Walk on Water' " February 3, 1999, www.bbc.com)
***
Life itself is a risky business -- or at least, any sort of life worth living. As one anonymous writer put it:
"To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach out to another is to risk involvement. To express feeling is to risk exposing your true self. To place ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss. To love is to risk being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To hope is to risk despair. To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who asks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live. Chained by their attitudes, they are a slave. They have forfeited their freedom. Only a person who risks is free."
-- posted by Ralph Milton, in his "Rumors" e-newsletter, October, 2000
***
There is an African parable about the risks we face in life. It's a story about a rope bridge spanning a huge chasm. The members of one particular village are facing famine. With no prospect of surviving on their land, the village elders decide the only thing to do is seek a new home across the river. The only way to get there is by walking across a rickety, swaying rope bridge.
With some trepidation, the villagers step out onto the planks. The bridge begins to sway. As they reach the center, the swaying becomes more intense. (This is simple physics. The middle of the bridge is the most unstable point, for it's furthest from the two ends which are anchored in the earth.)
Some of the villagers give in to fear. They turn around and head back toward the only country they know -- a country where they are sure to die. Others, however, grit their teeth in determination and keep moving onward. They find that, with each step they take, the bridge feels more stable underfoot. Finally, as they approach the end, it feels like they're walking on solid ground -- though still they are suspended high over the gorge.
This story is a model of how to persevere through a crisis of faith. There comes a time when everything is swaying back and forth, when disaster seems inevitable and yet the only thing to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that firmer ground lies ahead.
***
The acclaimed Broadway musical, Quilters, tells the story of a pioneer woman and her six daughters and the struggles they go through homesteading the Great Plains. Theirs is a life of hard work, punctuated by unexpected disappointment and sorrow. The one constant in their lives is the simple work of quilting, which in the play becomes a symbol for quiet endurance.
One of the vignettes within the play is about a woman whose husband is a railroad man. One day she hears the hoof beats of horses approaching her house. As soon as she can discern that these visitors are also railroad men, she knows the worst has happened: Her husband has been killed in a terrible accident. They've brought his mangled remains with them, in a basket, and together they bury what's left of him in the family plot. With the heartbreaking task completed, the new widow re-enters the house, goes directly to her bedroom, and sits down in her rocking chair.
The next day, she has a visitor: a relative who comes by to sit with her. She finds the new widow still rocking in the back bedroom; by all appearances never having moved from that spot since the previous night. Silently, she lifts her friend's hands and places a few quilting squares on her lap. She places a threaded needle in her hands. In the numb silence of her pain, the bereaved woman's hands remember what her mind could not, and she automatically begins quilting.
Sometimes the only way to have faith is to simply begin living it. The decision to respond to Jesus' invitation, "Come." One pass of the needle through the cloth and then the next. In time, with repetition, each action comes more easily.
***
The greatest proof of Christianity for others is not how far we can logically analyze our reasons for believing, but how far in practice we will stake our lives on our beliefs.
-- T.S. Eliot
***
Go out on a limb. That's where the fruit is.
-- Will Rogers
***
The Flying Wallendas, world-famous circus acrobats, were best-known for their "human pyramid." The pyramid was begun with two men on a tightrope holding a pole between them; atop that narrow pole were perched as many as ten other performers, members of the Wallenda family and friends. And all this without a safety net!
Every circus buff has heard the story of the day the human pyramid fell. The Wallendas were performing in a small midwestern town. Two members of their troupe were killed, and two others injured for life.
For several days, the Wallendas did not perform. Then the announcement went out that they would step out on the high wire again and the climax of their act would be the human pyramid!
It all went off without a hitch and, that night, a newspaper reporter cornered Karl Wallenda, leader of the group, as he walked to his trailer. "Mr. Wallenda," he asked, "What made you go back after the accident?"
Wallenda seemed surprised by the question. But then he looked the reporter in the eye and said, "To be on the wire is life; all else is waiting."
Faith always involves an element of risk.
Old Testament Lesson
Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Joseph Is Sold Into Slavery
The Joseph cycle goes on for many chapters in the book of Genesis. Today and next week, the lectionary includes excerpts from the story. This week's installment focuses on Joseph's betrayal by his brothers. Verses 1-4 speak of Jacob's gift to him of an elegant "long robe with sleeves" -- a kingly garment, unsuited to the rough shepherd's life of his brothers (earlier translations speak of "a coat of many colors"). This coat served as a constant reminder that "their father loved him more than all his brothers," allowing him to live a soft, protected life in the camp. Skipping over the account of Joseph's early dreams -- which further incite his brothers' hatred, for they show them bowing subserviently to him -- the lectionary moves on to tell how Joseph's brothers sell him into slavery. Their original plan is to murder "the dreamer," but Reuben intercedes on his behalf, convincing them to beat him and throw him into a pit instead (from which the good-hearted Reuben plans to rescue him, later -- verse 22). Reuben's scheme is foiled, however, when the brothers abruptly decide to sell him as a slave to a passing caravan of Ishmaelites (v. 28). The brothers' cynical dismissal of Joseph, as they plan to murder him ("we shall see what will become of his dreams"), is a reminder that the dreamers and visionaries among us all too often incite irrational fear in others, who subject them to persecution.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 10:5-15
Salvation Offered To Everyone
Continuing his discussion of salvation, which is available to Jew and Gentile alike, Paul cites Leviticus 18:5, "You shall keep my statutes and ordinances; by doing so, one shall live." Yes, he says, one could be saved by obedience to the law -- if it is possible for a human being to be so thoroughly obedient. Then, he quotes Deuteronomy 30:12-13, about the Lord's commandments being neither up in the heavens nor down in the depths, but close at hand. Yes, the commandments are near to us, he says, because Jesus Christ is among us. The apostle provides a simple formula for salvation: "if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved" (v. 9). There are two essentials of Christian belief here: 1) that Jesus is Lord, and 2) that he was raised from the dead and lives today. Because it is equally possible for Jew or Gentile to make this confession, it is equally possible for both to be saved. Paul supports this contention with two citations from the Hebrew scriptures: "No one who believes in him will be put to shame" (Isaiah 28:16) and "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" (Joel 2:32). This, of course, requires the work of witnesses to spread the good news (verses 14-15). This passage is difficult to preach -- for Paul's argument is heady, fast-moving, and relies on relatively obscure Old Testament passages. What should be emphasized, however, is not those who could be excluded from salvation -- those who rely on legalism alone -- but, rather, those who are included. This is everyone who earnestly calls on the name of the Lord.
The Gospel
Matthew 14:22-33
Jesus Walks On Water
The last time Jesus tried to find some solitude, the crowd pressed upon him and he fed them miraculously (last week's gospel lesson, 14:13-21). This time, he succeeds in getting away from the multitude and sends even the disciples off by boat as he climbs a mountain to pray. By nightfall, the disciples have not yet returned because conditions are stormy and the wind is against them. To their amazement and terror, Jesus walks out to them, across the sea (v. 25). Matthew's description of the wild weather conditions suggests that Jesus is coming out to save them; not simply to demonstrate his supernatural power. The Lord will stop at nothing to save a soul at risk. Despite Jesus' assurances that it is he, and not a ghost, the disciples are still not sure about this, so Peter asks Jesus to invite him out onto the water. Jesus does so, and Peter does all right at first until he becomes frightened and starts to sink (v. 30). His cry is the prototypical cry of the sinner: "Lord, save me!" Jesus does save him asking, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" (v. 31). As Jesus and Peter climb into the boat, the wild wind ceases and all worship him as the Son of God. This miracle-story is more than a natural wonder. It is a parable of faith. As long as Peter keeps his eye on Jesus, he is safe, but the minute he turns his attention to the storm, he is lost. Jesus' expression, "You of little faith," is always applied, in the gospel of Matthew, to people who have faith already. The Lord is chiding Peter not for having a deficit of faith, but rather for failing to use the faith he already has.
Preaching Possibilities
Walking on water. There's an enduring fascination with this story, which occurs in three out of the four gospels (Matthew 14:22-33; Mark 6.45-52; John 6.15-21). Of all the miracle-stories recorded in the New Testament, this one just may be the flashiest.
So is that why the gospel-writers tell it? Is that why this story's been preserved all these years -- because it was a pretty keen trick, surpassing anything Harry Houdini or Criss Angel could ever pull off?
No, the reason this story is told and retold is because there's wisdom in it -- wisdom about the life of faith and how to live it.
Let's set the scene. Jesus and his disciples have just received fearsome and terrible news: John the Baptist has been executed. John, that great prophet of righteousness, was killed because of a promise King Herod made to his stepdaughter, Salome, offering her anything she asked. She demanded John's head on a platter.
News of John's execution would have surely sent a chill down the spine of each and every one of Jesus' disciples. Suddenly, what they had all been doing together sounded dangerous. Who could say which of their heads might soon be resting on a platter?
They'd gone, then, from anxiety to jubilation, as Jesus had somehow fed a crowd of 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish. How had he done it? Not a one of them could say. But they were beginning to realize that this man they called Master was powerful in ways they could scarcely imagine.
Now, as this story opens, Jesus has gone off by himself and some of his disciples are in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. A fierce storm blows up in no time at all. Suddenly, they're fighting for their lives, bailing for all they're worth. Whoever's hand is on the tiller is struggling to keep their little craft pointed into the wind.
Then they see him. There, off to one side of the boat: a man walking on the water. They suppose he's some kind of apparition, so they're afraid. "Take heart," he says, "it is I; do not be afraid."
Then Peter says the strangest thing: "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." Who knows why he says those words, or what he means by them? Maybe Peter's proposing to test this apparition, to see if it's real. Or maybe he's simply trying to get the jump on his companions, so he can be first in line to try it.
Whatever the case, when Jesus does command Peter to come, without hesitation he sets one foot over the gunwhale, then the other. To his amazement, he too is walking on the water!
But then, Peter looks down. Big mistake. What does he see in that moment of sheer terror? What this tough old fisherman sees is only the same waters he's sailed on all his life -- waters that never once held him high and dry, as they're doing now. With a great flailing of arms and shouting for help, Peter begins to sink.
"Save me!" he cries -- and just then, quick as you please, someone catches hold of his wrist and pulls him up. "You of little faith," this one gently chides, "why did you doubt?"
Jesus and Peter climb into the boat, and immediately the storm ceases to rage. "Truly, you are the Son of God," they confess, one and all.
So why does Jesus do it? To impress and astound? Or to teach them something very profound?
It's to teach them. This story of walking on the water communicates, as no other set of statements could, the risks and fears involved in the life of faith.
Faith is a risky business. We easily forget that as we put on nice clothes and come to church on a lovely summer morning. Did any of us risk a thing in choosing to come to worship this morning -- unless it was getting caught in traffic on the way over, or maybe making an extra pass around the block hunting for a parking place?
But that's not how it always is in the life of faith. We all know there are times of personal challenge when faith doesn't come easy -- when there's struggle or pain, when every possible choice threatens unhappiness, when the valley of the shadow of death (whatever that phrase may mean for us) is all too near. In such dreadful moments, the choice between faith and no-faith looms in all its stark simplicity. A part of us fears it will make no difference, ultimately, which option we choose.
Faith, by its very nature, is a risky business; but, as the playwright Neil Simon has written, "If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor." Our first response, in tough times, is often to turn inward, looking deep within ourselves for strength. We may be surprised how deep and enduring are the resources we discover there.
Yet, the time will come when our own inner reserves are not sufficient. Then, it's decision time: time to realize firsthand the truth learned by one Christian who reflects: "When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly."
When Peter steps out of that boat onto the open water, there's one thing he quickly realizes (if, indeed, he's not thought it already): He does not have within himself the power to do the thing he has set out to do. Peter can't walk on water; he knows it. Every voice of reason within him is crying out, "No! This is impossible." But, step out, he does. He steps out because, at that very moment, he is looking into the eyes of his master and reaching for his hand, and those eyes and that hand tell him he can do it. And, so he can -- at least for a moment, at least until he breaks eye contact. For then, as Matthew tells it, in a marvel of understatement, Peter "notices the strong wind." He gets distracted from the one who gives him strength. He begins to sink -- and then it's only the grip of Jesus' hand upon his wrist that holds him up.
C.S. Lewis has described faith in this way:
"God designed the human machine to run on himself. He is the fuel our spirits were designed to burn... That is why it is no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about religion. God cannot give us a happiness apart from himself, because there is no such thing."
Faith is not some virtue we practice. It is a gift we are given by almighty God, mediated through our Lord, Jesus Christ. We do not generate it from within, but we do need to claim the gift. We do need to respond to the Lord's invitation. We do need to leave the safety and familiarity of the boat.
If we're going to walk on water, the only way to start is by getting our feet wet.
Prayer For The Day
Lord Jesus,
our lives are often stormy,
but you calm the storm.
Our lives are often messy,
but you point the way to the pearl of great price,
before which the value of everything else fades away.
Our lives are often filled with doubt,
but you extend a hand to us,
saying, "Come."
The next time you extend that invitation,
may we say, "Yes,"
with our whole heart. Amen.
To Illustrate
There have been strange things done in the name of tourism. Take a drive across this country (or even a good-sized chunk of it) and you'll see plenty of signs of that.
I'm speaking, of course, about that great American institution, the Roadside Attraction.
In Darwin, Minnesota, for instance, you can visit the World's Largest Ball of Twine -- twelve feet in diameter. It took one Francis A. Johnson 39 years to make it, working four hours a day.
In Chester, West Virginia, you can stop your car and take a gander at the World's Largest Teapot.
Blue Earth, Minnesota, is home to a 55-foot statue of the Jolly Green Giant. They must grow a lot of vegetables in Blue Earth.
In Alliance, Nebraska, you can visit "Carhenge," a replica of England's famous "Stonehenge" -- constructed entirely of junked automobiles spray-painted gray.
And let us not forget New Jersey's Lucy the Elephant, in Margate -- the only elephant designated a National Historical Landmark.
Yes, there have been strange things done in the name of tourism. Yet, none is stranger than a project recently proposed in Israel. I'm not sure they ever actually constructed this thing, although newspapers around the world were reporting its plans two years ago.
It seems the Israeli National Parks Authority approved a developer's proposal to construct a submerged, transparent bridge in a small part of the Sea of Galilee. The crescent-shaped bridge, located a few inches below the surface of the water, would allow tourists the opportunity to get their pictures taken "walking on water," as Jesus did.
So as not to spoil the effect, architectural plans for the thirteen-foot-wide bridge included no protective guardrails; the plan was to have lifeguards standing by in rescue boats, just in case some absent-minded tourist happened to step off the edge. (BBC News report, "Pilgrims To 'Walk on Water' " February 3, 1999, www.bbc.com)
***
Life itself is a risky business -- or at least, any sort of life worth living. As one anonymous writer put it:
"To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach out to another is to risk involvement. To express feeling is to risk exposing your true self. To place ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss. To love is to risk being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To hope is to risk despair. To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who asks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live. Chained by their attitudes, they are a slave. They have forfeited their freedom. Only a person who risks is free."
-- posted by Ralph Milton, in his "Rumors" e-newsletter, October, 2000
***
There is an African parable about the risks we face in life. It's a story about a rope bridge spanning a huge chasm. The members of one particular village are facing famine. With no prospect of surviving on their land, the village elders decide the only thing to do is seek a new home across the river. The only way to get there is by walking across a rickety, swaying rope bridge.
With some trepidation, the villagers step out onto the planks. The bridge begins to sway. As they reach the center, the swaying becomes more intense. (This is simple physics. The middle of the bridge is the most unstable point, for it's furthest from the two ends which are anchored in the earth.)
Some of the villagers give in to fear. They turn around and head back toward the only country they know -- a country where they are sure to die. Others, however, grit their teeth in determination and keep moving onward. They find that, with each step they take, the bridge feels more stable underfoot. Finally, as they approach the end, it feels like they're walking on solid ground -- though still they are suspended high over the gorge.
This story is a model of how to persevere through a crisis of faith. There comes a time when everything is swaying back and forth, when disaster seems inevitable and yet the only thing to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that firmer ground lies ahead.
***
The acclaimed Broadway musical, Quilters, tells the story of a pioneer woman and her six daughters and the struggles they go through homesteading the Great Plains. Theirs is a life of hard work, punctuated by unexpected disappointment and sorrow. The one constant in their lives is the simple work of quilting, which in the play becomes a symbol for quiet endurance.
One of the vignettes within the play is about a woman whose husband is a railroad man. One day she hears the hoof beats of horses approaching her house. As soon as she can discern that these visitors are also railroad men, she knows the worst has happened: Her husband has been killed in a terrible accident. They've brought his mangled remains with them, in a basket, and together they bury what's left of him in the family plot. With the heartbreaking task completed, the new widow re-enters the house, goes directly to her bedroom, and sits down in her rocking chair.
The next day, she has a visitor: a relative who comes by to sit with her. She finds the new widow still rocking in the back bedroom; by all appearances never having moved from that spot since the previous night. Silently, she lifts her friend's hands and places a few quilting squares on her lap. She places a threaded needle in her hands. In the numb silence of her pain, the bereaved woman's hands remember what her mind could not, and she automatically begins quilting.
Sometimes the only way to have faith is to simply begin living it. The decision to respond to Jesus' invitation, "Come." One pass of the needle through the cloth and then the next. In time, with repetition, each action comes more easily.
***
The greatest proof of Christianity for others is not how far we can logically analyze our reasons for believing, but how far in practice we will stake our lives on our beliefs.
-- T.S. Eliot
***
Go out on a limb. That's where the fruit is.
-- Will Rogers
***
The Flying Wallendas, world-famous circus acrobats, were best-known for their "human pyramid." The pyramid was begun with two men on a tightrope holding a pole between them; atop that narrow pole were perched as many as ten other performers, members of the Wallenda family and friends. And all this without a safety net!
Every circus buff has heard the story of the day the human pyramid fell. The Wallendas were performing in a small midwestern town. Two members of their troupe were killed, and two others injured for life.
For several days, the Wallendas did not perform. Then the announcement went out that they would step out on the high wire again and the climax of their act would be the human pyramid!
It all went off without a hitch and, that night, a newspaper reporter cornered Karl Wallenda, leader of the group, as he walked to his trailer. "Mr. Wallenda," he asked, "What made you go back after the accident?"
Wallenda seemed surprised by the question. But then he looked the reporter in the eye and said, "To be on the wire is life; all else is waiting."
