19^th Sunday in Ordinary Time; August 13, 2023

1 Kgs 19:9-13a.  Ps 85.  Rom 9:1-5.  Mt 14:22-33

Deacon Jim McFadden

            43 years ago John Michael Talbot released a remarkable faith-filled  album,  Come to the Quiet, which was a collection of serene meditations, focusing primarily on the Psalms, one of which was Psalm 131.  We hear, “Lord, my heart is not proud.  Nor are my eyes fixed on things beyond me.  In the quiet, I have stilled my soul.  Like a child at rest on its mother’s knee.  I have stilled my soul within me…”

            “I have stilled my soul within me…”. Oh, how difficult for us to be still!  How so?  To begin with, we’re surrounded by a wall of endless chatter, small talk, off-the-cuff remarks that have no beginning or end—not just in person but from the media and the social internet via our digital devices.  But, it’s not only external distractions—such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter (or, to be current ‘X’), TikTok, etc.—that command so much of our attention, but we also have to deal with the white noise that dwells within our mind: that incessant flow of one distracting thought after another that makes us feel as if we’re like a monkey bouncing off one side of the cage to another.  The need for constant “communication” and external stimuli can get us to the point where we simply worship noise and can’t live without it. 

            Today’s readings invite us to hit the pause button: to enter into spaces of silence, where it can be easier to hear the One who is constantly communicating his divine Love and presence to us if we would only listen and be still.

            The narrative of the Prophet Elijah, who was desperately seeking the intimate contact of God, shows that God would come to him and to us not via spectacular or dramatic special effects—such as a loud sound, a hurricane, or an earthquake—but through a “tiny whispering sound”  or as one translation has it, the “thread of  melodious silence,” that never imposes itself, but asks to be heard

 (cf. 1 Kgs 19:11-13). 

            What does this story teach us?  In order to come into God’s presence, we need to be still.  That being the case, we have to ask ourselves whether our thoughts, choices, actions—in other words, our lifestyle—are leading us to fulfill our deepest desire to be in communion with God and to do our Father’s will; or, are they driving us into the wilderness of distraction.  Elijah was still, and in that encounter with God, he was strengthened for the remainder of his prophetic mission. 

            Having faith in God and his promises simply mean keeping our heart turned towards God, to his unconditioned Love and to his Fatherly tenderness which we witnessed in the Prodigal Son parable.  And, we do so when times are tough, in the midst of a storm, which tosses us about when the wheels of our life seem to be coming off.  Jesus wanted to teach this to Peter and the disciples, and to us today.  In the dark moments of our life when nothing seems to make sense; in the sad moments when we experience deep and profound loss, our faith can be weakened.  Like Peter, all of us are people of “little faith,” especially when we are hammered by adverse forces. 

            But Jesus is the Risen One!  Since he overcame sin and death, he can transform anything by the power of his Resurrected Life!  Let us never forget that!  Jesus is the Lord of Life—He is Life itself!—and he passed through a horrible death in order to bring us to safety, to home.  Even before we reach out to him, he is already there, right beside us:  Jesus is never MIA!  And, if we doubt him, fall back on our own egoic strategies to get control of our lives, he will lift us back up and strengthen us to grow in faith, especially through the Sacraments.  Sometimes, life gets too hard that we cry out, “Lord, Lord: where are you in this mess…in this chaos?!”  We think that he is far away, but he is not.  If we go in the Quiet and experience Jesus, we can say with Julian of Norwich, “All is well.  All matter of things are well.”  Why?   Jesus is here and now.  He is the great “I AM” in the flesh!

            It’s worth noting that the boat  in the Gospel narrative plays an important  archetypal role as it represents the reality of the Church, which in every age encounters head winds and very harsh trials.  Winds and waves toss the boat, toss the Church.  Anybody with a modicum of Church history knows the truth of this: the Church must weather contrary winds and storms in our historical moment which threatened to capsize it.  In situations like this, we may be tempted to think that God has abandoned her.  But it is precisely in those moments that we witness to our Catholic faith, the witness of Love, the witness of Hope that shines in the darkness.  Make no mistake: what saves the Church is not the courage and quality of her members, but is faith in Jesus and his Word that will get us through anything.

            If the Church returns to her Center, which is the heart of Jesus, we can traverse any stormy sea.  As we dwell within Jesus, he can do through us that which seems impossible.  As Peter, the first Pope of the Church, was floundering in the sea, Jesus reached out his hand to him just as he does to you and me in the year 2023.  Peter grasped his hand to come closer to Jesus and, as he did, he found his true Center, where Jesus’ contagious courage dispels all fear.  He did that with Peter and he can do it for you and me if we let Him, if we “Come to the Quiet.”   Amen.