Sermon for Sunday August 7, 2005
Matthew 14:22 -33- Peter Walks on the Water
Rev. Este Gardner Cantor

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my hearts be always acceptable in your sight, Oh Lord my strength and my redeemer

You of little faith- why did you doubt?

In our gospel story today once again we can again see the character of Peter. Flawed, fearful, impulsive- and like all the disciples at various times- of little faith. In fact it is almost as if Jesus deliberately chose his disciples precisely because they were men of little faith. Those who he specifically described as being "of great faith" never became his disciples. The Cannanite woman, for example, whose great faith and humility inspired Jesus to heal her daughter- or the centurion whose unwavering faith in Jesus' power led to the healing of his servant. Jesus apparently wanted someone like Peter who was headstrong, awkward hot-headed and ultimately a betrayer, who denied even knowing Jesus at all. This largess on the part of Jesus can only come as good news to his latter day disciples- we of little faith.

In my own faith journey I have often felt myself sinking into the deep after attempting to walk on water. But it was during the last month before my ordination to the deaconate that my feet really started to get wet. I spent that last month desperately trying to finish all my course requirements and all the requirements for ordination in addition to juggling my family and job obligations. Finally, during a seminary weekend retreat, I felt a sudden and tremendous spasm of pain in my left shoulder. I had begun to perceive the tasks I was saddled with as burden upon burden, and as I doggedly took them all on, my shoulder finally gave way under the weight. Ironically enough, as I prepared for holy orders in the Christian Church, I had forgotten all about the one who says "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest." It was, in fact, at St. Dorothy's REST where I finally fell part- where I finally began sinking into the deep. This was actually a great time and place for my plunge. Although I was unclear about God's will in all this, I was very clear that Jesus was reaching out his hand and helping me, disguised as my many seminary colleagues. Jesus carried my burdens, made my bed, gave me numerous healings packed my car and drove me home. He reached out his hand to my good arm and began to raise me up from the deep. But as the days passed back home and the pain did not subside and no sleep would come, my little bit of faith sunk again. "Why have you brought me so far only to deliver me to ordination handicapped and stupid with exhaustion?" I inquired of God in one of many wrestling sessions of little faith. I went before the Commission on Ministry having had no sleep. I somehow completed my finals having had no sleep. I met with the vestry (I'm sorry) having had no sleep. And I went for my final interview with the Diocesan Standing Committee with no sleep.

By the time of my ordination, I felt the water rising over my face. When I knelt before the Bishop and he ordained me, I felt he was laying hands on the only part off me that was not fully submerged- the top of my head.

But miraculously, that laying on of hands was enough to begin to raise me, almost immediately, out of the deep. Where did this faith come from? I had to assume that I caught it from the Bishop, as faith must be contagious. I caught the faith that he seemed to have in me. However, as soon as he got a good look at me he said, "You really need a vacation. Take a real Sabbath."

And so, having just followed my first holy order and taken a month off, I now find I have the energy and faith to obey his second holy order, which was hand written in the bible that he gave me at my ordination. This is what he said:

  Dear Este,

In an age of militant religious absolutism, it is crucial that people hear that faith is a sacred leap into the Divine Mystery, not a discharged weapon of political conquest. You need to speak up! Never underestimate the hope that abides in you. Hope that Jesus Christ has overcome the world on the sheer strength of the love of God."...account for the hope that is in you." 1 Peter 3:15.

  Faithfully in Christ, William E. Swing

In the first century after Christ, Christians were terrified to account for the hope- the faith that was in them as Christians because they might end up dead. Today we might be terrified to account for that faith because we will be cut dead socially or that we might die of embarrassment by offending someone of a particular religious or political bent. Jesus had no such qualms. He feared neither social death nor real death. When he read from Isaiah his very first time out in the synagogue at Nazareth , saying "The spirit of the Lord is upon me" they spoke well of him at first. And then he began to quote from Kings II and point out that God sometimes treated Gentiles with more favor than their own tribe. For this bit of inclusive ministry, this beginning of his ever popular "love your enemies" prophetic preaching, they ran Jesus out of town and tried to push him off a cliff. But somehow, from his place of fearlessness- of great faith- he "passed through the midst of them and went on his way."

"Love your enemies" has to be one of the most succinct anti-war slogans around. Until the time of the Emperor Constantine's conversion to Christianity in the early 4th century, the teachings of Christianity were understood to mean that if you were a Christian, you could not be a soldier. This did not translate well to life in the Roman Empire . And then in the 5th century, St. Augustine began to develop the concept of "just war," which was further refined by Thomas Aquinas in the 13th century. Reinhold Niebuhr in the 1930's and 40's showed his growing critique of what he considered to be politically incompetent Protestant Christian idealism by abandoning his own previously pacifist ideals and further exploring the concept of just war. His was a perspective that was immensely influential even up to the time of the Viet Nam War. But there were and are always dissenting voices.

Nathaniel W. Pierce, was National Chairman of the Episcopal Peace Fellowship from 1978-80. He wrote an essay that was inspired by the discussion occurring at that time about reestablishing the draft. In his attempt to dismantle the just war concept, he listed seven criteria that were approved at the 74 th General Convention of the Episcopal Church, and noted that "most mainline denominations subscribe to this approach” :

  1. A just war must be a last resort.
  2. A just war must have a noble or good end
  3. A just war must be declared by a lawful authority
  4. A just war must have a reasonable prospect of success.
5. A just war must do no more harm than the good which may result; the means must be proportional, and insofar as possible, noncombatants must be protected.
  6. A just war demands just conduct by participants
7. A just war requires that mercy be shown to those who are defeated.

There may or may not be such a thing as a just war, but certainly the war we are now engaged in does not fit enough of these criteria to quality. And, even if a war could somehow pass all of these tests, as Nathan W. Pierce points out:

“Can nuclear war and the ever-present possibility that conventional war may escalate into nuclear war, ever be a legitimate expression of the obligation to preserve life or to seek a love-inspired justice in and among nations? How does one show mercy [or justice] to an annihilated world? [1]

Only yesterday we observed the 60 th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima , so these lessons are, I think, timely ones.

Reinhold Niebuhr also wrote the serenity prayer: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." This has been often misunderstood as a prayer of serenity- a passively spiritual prayer. But when you think of Niebuhr's radical and activist writings, "the courage to change the things I can" begins to take its place in this prayer as an expression of the activeness, the courageousness of faith. The prayer is meant to inspire us all to have the courage- the faith to change the things we can.

What is the nature of faith? Paul describes it in his letter to the Hebrews (11:1) as “the assurance of things hoped for.” But faith seems to me to be less about certainty that we will get the things we hope for, and more about that leap into everyday life that is, after all, walking on water with no certain results- having faith that even in the stormiest squall, even when it sure doesn't seem like it, God is in the boat with us.

Oddly enough, our present leadership “of great faith” has promoted nothing so successfully as a culture of great fear among us. A fear that led us into agreeing to a disastrous war. In fact the Islamic extremists and the Christian extremists have both been artists of fear. Terror has been the result of both of their efforts.

But in this they have not been entirely successful. Not only have we had the recent and inspiring example of the fearlessness of the wounded British, but responses to this distorted vision of faith abound within our own borders as well. The recent Conference on Spiritual Activism occurred right here at UC Berkeley. The up-coming Values, Faith & Politics Conference at the Nat'l Cathedral is set for October. There have been many vigils, led by people of various faiths, including our own Episcopal Peace Fellowship. Veteran groups and groups of the parents of veterans and the parents of our war dead are speaking out. These are all hopeful. These are indications that we have not given in to fear. For if we are to listen to the teachings of Jesus Christ he calls us always, as do all the rescuing angels, to "Fear not!" He calls us to forswear those classic causes of war- the lust for riches, power and empire.

The questions of fear posed constantly by our twin purveyors of extreme religion are not questions of faith. There is no justice in them, and they offer no divine revelations, however they may claim to. Jesus calls us always away from despair and worries and fears about all things great and small. He calls us toward faith. He asks us, “if God will clothe the lilies of the field and even the grass, will he not clothe you, you of little faith?”

Both the Christian and Islamic extremists claim Abraham as the father of their people. And both claim that kind of towering faith by which Abraham was apparently willing and ready to axe his child to death in response to the will of God.

We are now complacently sacrificing our young sons and daughters in the name of a Godly and resolute faith. We are all complicit in this. The blood is on all our hands. And these sacrificed Isaacs of ours are not numberless or nameless. A recent count of our American dead stood at 1,806. An estimate of Iraqi dead was between 22,000 and 26,000. Four out of ten of these were children. On a recent day 3 lives were sacrificed: Army PFC Tim Hines, 21 years old, of Fairfield Ohio . Army staff Sgnt Tricia L. Jameson, 34, of Omaha , Nebraska , and Army SPC Benyamin Yahudah, 24, of Bogart , Georgia .

Unlike the story of Abraham's sacrifice or our gospel story of today, there seems to be no rescuing hand to pull us from the deep- no angel to stop the sacrifice. But if we are truly the body of Christ, if Christ truly has no hands or feet but ours, then perhaps God has left the rescuing to us, perhaps God has called us to stay the executioner's hand- we angels of little faith.

[1] Ibid. 57.