Learning to Sink

Text: Matthew 14:22-33

Some years ago, my family and I were invited to spend a weekend at a cottage at West Hawk Lake. The host family provided such wonderful hospitality that we had a short but authentic experience of cottage life. We hiked around the lake, played in the water, ate delicious food, and shared stories beside the campfire. Though we didn’t get to watch a meteor shower, it was fun to wake up in the middle of the night just to see numerous stars. That weekend helped me understand why for some people a cottage life is primary while an urban life is secondary. More than anything, it’s water that draws hundreds and thousands of Manitobans to cottage living. Water. It can be life-giving, but it can also be life-threatening. Having grown up as a mountain person, I prefer standing on my own two feet rather than floating around in water. To me, water represents mystery, the place of unknown, so when offered a chance to kayak during our cottage visit, I had to build up the courage. Though I had kayaked once before, ignorance made me brave. Besides, I didn’t want to show fear in front of my kids. My first kayaking trip had started in a light rain, which intensified while we were out on the water. The wind got stronger and our friends lost sight of us from shore, so they phoned the local RCMP to report us missing. To their surprise, we managed to come back safely.  However, the kayak at the cottage was a different kind from the one that had saved me on the rainy day. It was so easy to flip over and I soon found myself in the water upside down. I was overwhelmed by the fear of water so much so that the life jacket I wore didn’t really reassure me. Of course, I didn’t drown, I just had to wait patiently until my host came to rescue me with a boat. Looking back, I wonder which one worse – the possibility of getting soaked with water or the feeling I should never get wet. I wonder what it would’ve been like if I had allowed myself to flip over as if it was natural, to get myself familiar with the sensation of getting soaked in, and tipping over, the kayak. It was uncomfortable to be submerged in the water head down, and to ask for help while catching my breath, but weren’t these necessary parts of my learning process? In the story of Peter drowning shortly after walking on water, the conventional way the story has been told is Peter failing by not keeping his focus on Jesus. The disciples were afraid when confronted with an unknown, someone walking on water, and once Peter started his walk, he noticed the strong wind and his surroundings, became uncomfortable, and started sinking. Typical sermons try to encourage us not to take our eyes off Jesus, like Peter did, so we can stay firm in our faith.  Another way to interpret the story is to put more emphasis on Jesus, who without any delay came to rescue the frightened disciple. In today’s reading, the word “immediately” is used three times in twelve verses, and the subject of each of those sentences is Jesus. “Immediately” is repeated many times in the Gospel in a way to give emphasis to God’s imminent help and salvation. That can be good news for some people, but I still find myself needing more, something that can resonate with what we have been going through. The pandemic has affected numerous people around the world. There is not a single person whose life has not been impacted by the virus directly or indirectly. Things that were supposed to hold us together have fallen apart. The life we have known is no longer a given. Just look at your calendar for May, for example, and see all the events you were supposed to attend but couldn’t. What has been uncovered, thanks to COVID-19, are the ways in which our system is broken. The virus is not the only problem we face. We as a society have failed to keep the most vulnerable among us safe, and as global citizens have failed to recognize the increasing hunger of 270 million people as our own because of COVID-19. All of a sudden we find ourselves in the unknown space – none of us has ever been here before, and no one knows for sure how long the pandemic will last. We also find ourselves in the uncomfortable space – we have to change the way we live, work, play, and interact, not to mention wearing a mask and self-quarantine. Like Peter, we are crying out for help from a place of fear and discomfort not knowing how it’s going to turn out. I wonder which one is worse – the fact that all humanity is at risk in this pandemic or the feeling we should never fall or sink into the unknown territory. What if the pandemic and all the changes that came with it meant to make us aware of things we’ve been overlooking; of our total dependence on each other and especially on nature; of how connected we are with everything else in the universe? We have seen how everyone is vulnerable, and that many of us have reached our limits. And that’s a good thing. Aren’t all the things we are experiencing necessary in order for us to learn, grow, and to be whole? Now is not the time to mourn or blame. Now is the time to imagine what kind of community we want to be. We just have to do church differently with more creative ways, and with more loving and caring hearts. “Why did you doubt?” said Jesus to Peter, after reaching out his hand and catching him. It’s not clear what Peter was in doubt about. Did he doubt that he was going to walk on water? Did he doubt that Jesus was going to rescue him right away? Or did he doubt that sinking into water was part of his growing? Whatever it may have been, there was no doubt that it was only the beginning of something entirely new. It was sinking that made the new experience possible.