But he said to them, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”
They wanted to take him into the boat, but the boat immediately arrived at the shore to which they were heading.
Frail creatures of mud, we are also easily frightened. Without fang, claw, or heavy shell, we survive by our collective cleverness; and thrive by remembering both the failures and successes of the past.
We are city building animals. When enough people agree to a common set of laws their prospects improve, individual learn specialized skills, and they support the city by trade and neighborly civility. With sufficient leisure they discover the pleasures of creativity and the arts. But when they feel harassed, they also long for an idyllic rural retreat with all the urban securities and familiar comforts. And maybe, some time on the water! How sweet it is!
In today's gospel the boys find themselves struggling in a tempestuous, liquid environment, lacking even the assurance of solid earth beneath them. Add to that the specter of a maritime ghost. Who knows how many lost sailors and drowned fishermen might stalk the waves, searching for companions? Their appearance surely augers doom for the luckless disciples.
Saint Francis of Assisi also explored the isolation of rural retreats. Willing to fast and suffer inconvenience, he moved to the fringes of an urban infrastructure that was already ten thousands years old. He settled first in a leper colony, and then took to the road and the mission trail. His fixed abode, when his followers needed one, would be an abandoned shack at Rivo Torto, near Assisi.
His only assurance was the Lord. Owning nothing worth stealing and attached to nothing worth owning, he could befriend every thief and bandit who might find him in the wilderness. If they were interested he might regale them with stories of the Bible and the saints.
He must have been frightened on many occasions by the mutterings and weird sounds of night, but he also heard in his mind's ears the welcome greeting, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”
He could no more capture that sound than he could hold a specter in his arms, but he allowed both fears and assurances free passage through the night. He had seen enough privilege and success to know their illusions; they promised much and delivered less than nothing. He found his confidence in God's supreme presence.
Today's gospel about midnight fears on the open sea lead us to consider more deeply the mystery of the Eucharist. The rest of John 6 will take us back to solid ground and the companionship of others, but we'll not find urban serenity there, nor much civility. The human world is in turmoil as Jesus insistently, authoritatively speaks of apparent cannibalism. His disciples must trust him and accept his word despite their confusion, uncertainty, and the abrupt departure of many disciples.
As we live in a polarized, increasingly irrational nation which promises freedom and threatens civil war, we do well to hear the call of that familiar voice, "It is I. Do not be afraid."
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.