Friday • 6/17/2022
This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 40; Psalm 54; Ecclesiastes 5:1-7; Galatians 3:15-22; Matthew 14:22-36
This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 10 (“The Second Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 55:6–11; BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9–10, 13, BCP, p. 93)
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Today is the Friday following Trinity Sunday. Given where Easter falls this year, our readings should have us in Proper 6 of the Daily Lectionary, but my teaching schedule with my friends at the Robert E. Webber Institute for Worship Studies has caused me to scramble things a bit. This week, we are contemplating passages from Proper 4 — I want to give some attention to the early chapters of the Book of Ecclesiastes and of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Thanks for your flexibility. Next week we will be back on track with readings from the Daily Lectionary’s Proper 7.
Sometimes the Lord takes the props away. For our Cathedral family during the first months of the coronavirus pandemic, it was the beautiful building, the physical bread and wine, the hugs at the peace, the voices blended in praise. Sometimes other things get removed from people—a secure income, good health, close friends, a fulfilling job, a feeling of God’s presence. Your mother – or father – or spouse – or child dies. Your dog (or cat) dies. It’s awful. Sometimes all the supports disappear, and it’s just you — and the emptiness, the “vanity.” Or — it’s you — and God.
Whatever has been the process, the Lord, in his kindness, has brought Solomon to such a place. Over the course of this week’s readings in Ecclesiastes, we have observed Solomon’s increasingly unhappy depictions of the limited satisfactions of pleasure and power, of ambition and wisdom — of life itself. He’s come to the end of himself. And he realizes it’s either him and the void (“Vanity of vanities. All is vanity.”). Or it’s him and God.
Wisely, he chooses God. But even here (Ecclesiastes being a book all about dead ends) a narrow window opens to him showing how even the choice of “religion” can be a dead end. There’s a way to try to relate to God that is itself vanity.
A listening faith. “…to draw near to listen is better than the sacrifice offered by fools…nor let your heart be quick to utter a word before God…It is better that you should not vow than that you should vow and not fulfill it.” — Ecclesiastes 5:1,2,5. There is an approach to God himself that is a “sacrifice offered by fools.” Effusive religious enthusiasm and over-promising devotion to God lead to one more dead end.
Paul amplifies the point. The zealot-turned-apostle explains that the giving of the law of Moses was designed from the beginning to make Israel attentive—to listen to the retelling of God’s promise. The law never overrode that promise. The law illuminated our tendency to be lured by sin, to lean into sin — to love sin. The law was intended to lead us to listen for the “why” of the ongoing provision for sacrifice to cover sin. To listen, and hear anew, the promise that God had already made to Abraham of an offspring who would eventually mediate the broken relationship between God and us: “… so that what was promised through faith in Jesus Christ might be given to those who believe” (Galatians 3:22).
Jesus proves the point. Today’s passage in Matthew shows Jesus, who is Emmanuel (God-with-us) walking on water. One of his more spectacular gifts, right? What is worthy of note is the prelude: “…he went up to the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone… And early in the morning he came walking down…” (Matthew 14:23,25). In other words, he has been up there all night with his Father. Do we imagine the prayers of Jesus that night were one-sided? That Jesus did all the talking, all night long? The One who taught,“When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:7-8). The book of Hebrews states that “in the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission” (Hebrews 5:7-8). It’s not hard to believe that over the course of his night of prayer, there was a good measure of listening to the Father and communing deeply with him. With all his superpowers (to apply a modern anachronism), Jesus presents himself among us to show us how to avoid the religiosity that is, in reality, just blather or bloviating vow-making. (A study of today’s Psalm, Psalm 40, reveals a form of honest prayer, displaying expressions of thanksgiving; distress; supplication; and praise.)
By the way, I’m pretty sure that some features of today’s passage in Matthew are unique to the moment it narrates. I have friends who are skeptical about whether Jesus ever literally walked on water. I’m not. But his walking on the water looks like a “one off” phenomenon designed to make a point. The point was: trust me. Peter’s temporarily-enabled walking on water looks like it provided the teaching moment: Keep your eyes on me, and you’ll be OK. Pay attention to the storm around you, and you’ll sink. The things that transpired physically outside the boat that night appear to be unique to those moments. Their significance for life — let the reader discern.
Be blessed this day,
Reggie Kidd+
Image: Philipp Otto Runge, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons, unfinished altarpiece that was originally commissioned to furnish the chapel in Vitt on Rügen, circa 1806-1807