You won’t be surprised to learn that someone my age now makes regular visits to physical therapy at Henry Mayo PT in Canyon Country. Nothing major—a shoulder injury that makes me contort like Quasimodo when I try to dress myself. But it is an interesting experience in that I now regularly engage with young men and women in their 20s, something I don’t otherwise do on a regular basis.
Last Tuesday I overheard two of the PT folks talking about their favorite cartoons, and Sponge Bob was the easy winner. They looked over to me and asked what I thought of Sponge Bob. As a man without grandchildren, I had to confess that I am only slightly acquainted with the fellow. But I felt I needed to say something.
“The cartoons that were part of my upbringing are the great Warner Brothers cartoons—Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Sylvester and Tweetie, and—of course—the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote.”
Instead of affirming nods, all I got back was crickets. They looked at each other, then at me. “We don’t know who those are.”
I am not exaggerating when I say that Warner Brothers cartoons form the basis of my early moral and philosophical education. There probably isn’t a dilemma in modern life that I don’t somehow relate to one of those characters. So you can easily understand that, when I first read the Gospel for this morning, I thought about the Roadrunner’s longtime nemesis, Wile E Coyote. This is not as blasphemous as it seems.
If you remember the Road Runner cartoons, that speedy bird was always being pursued by a coyote who ordered any number of products with which to attack him (bombs, guns, catapults, trampolines, anvils) from the Acme company. And the Road Runner would not only elude his grasp. He would also regularly trick the coyote into running off the end of a cliff.
Now here’s the connection to today. When running off the cliff, Wile E Coyote would continue making forward progress until he suddenly looked down. And after he looked down, he would look straight at us, and he would realize that he was running in thin air. And then he would plummet far below to the desert floor, landing with an almost imperceptible thud.
In this morning’s Gospel, Peter acts very much as the coyote does:
Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” [Matthew 14: 22-33]
Everything is fine until Peter realizes that he’s trying to walk on water. And when he does, he sinks--just as Wile E. Coyote would do.
I’ll get to Jesus’s response in a moment. But I need also to mention something else this Gospel puts me in mind of, and that is a memorable New Yorker article from 2000 by Malcolm Gladwell. It’s called “The Art of Failure”, and it concerns the way performers (athletes, musicians, actors, dancers) fail by overthinking things--what we call “choking”. In the article, Gladwell makes a helpful distinction between choking and panicking:
Choking is about thinking too much. Panic is about thinking too little. Choking is about loss of instinct. Panic is reversion to instinct. –Malcolm Gladwell, “The Art of Failure”, The New Yorker, August 13, 2000]https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2000/08/21/the-art-of-failure#:~:text=Choking%20is%20about%20thinking%20too,Panic%20is%20reversion%20to%20instinct.
We choke when we overthink the task ahead of us. We panic when we don’t think at all. A pianist who has learned a Beethoven sonata chokes when she starts to think about every note she needs to play while performing the piece. A swimmer who drowns in three feet of water panics because he doesn’t think simply to stand up.
When Wile E Coyote looks down, realizes he’s walking on air, and plummets to the desert floor, he is like an athlete or pianist choking. He fails because he overthinks. In the same way, when Peter walks on the water and notices what he’s doing, he begins to sink. Peter fails because he, too, lets his mind sabotage his body.
It seems to me that today’s Gospel is one which, like Peter and the coyote, we often overthink. The most obvious detail of the story is Jesus ‘s walking on the water. Generations of readers and preachers become focused on this detail and ask themselves, “How did he do it?” We become obsessed with the mechanics of a miracle.
But for me the heart of this story lies not in the walking on the water but in the reason Jesus does so in the first place. His companions are in a boat far from land and battered by the waves. He walks toward them in order to comfort them. And he says these powerful words: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
This story isn’t about a magic trick. It’s about God’s response to us when we are in danger or despair. “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Like the disciples in the boat, you and I regularly find ourselves in situations beyond our control. God’s response to us in those moments is the same: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Peter’s attempt to duplicate Jesus’s feat of walking on water leads to his rescue by Jesus, and our Gospel story ends with these words:
Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Peter is an intriguing character, admirable in his enthusiasm, and almost always getting it wrong. His mistake this morning is similar to the problem of a performer choking: he overthinks things, he lets his mind get in the way of his actions. He second-guesses himself. Attempting to act as Jesus did may have been foolish, but it came from a good intention. But he failed because he allowed his intellect to get in the way of his body.
In the same way, you and I often defeat ourselves before we start. We are driven by an impulse to do something bold or loving or compassionate, and then we begin to think of possible drawbacks and consequences. It’s impossible. We’ve never done it that way. We’ll look like fools. Better safe than sorry.
The apostle Paul knew what he was talking about when he said to the Corinthians, “We are fools for Christ’s sake.” Christianity began as a Jewish movement, and Paul dared to open Christianity to the gentiles, to non-Jews and in the process showed how God’s love has no limits or boundaries. Some saw this as foolish: who wants a religion without entrance requirements? But over time this foolishness became wisdom and is the hallmark of our inclusive, dynamic, expansive faith in a God who loves and accepts us all no matter what.
For a moment, Peter was willing to act like a fool—to try to walk on water, to do something courageous and unheard of. And then he began to think about it. He second-guessed himself. He allowed his mind to overcome his heart.
The Jesus you and I encounter in word and sacrament is one who constantly calls out to us as he did to Peter and his friends: “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” With that kind of assurance, we should know we have nothing to fear. And yet we let the doubts creep in. It won’t work. It’s never been done. I’ll look like an idiot.
Today’s Gospel story serves as a reminder of the two great truths of Christianity. Truth one: we are in the embrace of one who knows us, who loves us, and who is always there for us when things get too big or difficult to bear. “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” And truth two: because of that one’s continual presence, we are empowered to do similar acts of love, justice, and compassion ourselves. This is a story about us—about the permission we have been given to live and act like Jesus. We overthink things and come up with all kinds of reasons why we cannot live generous, open, compassionate lives. Who wants to look like a fool? Better to stay hunkered down in our corners than to reach out our hands in love.
Countless opportunities to express generosity and kindness present themselves to us every day: at our workplaces, when we’re out and about, even and especially in our households. We let them pass by because we overthink the consequences of doing something out of the ordinary. We constrain ourselves and limit our possibilities.
Today’s Gospel shows us that there is always another way to live. “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” This morning, let’s each and all of us for once commit to stepping out in love and not looking down. Who knows how far we’ll get on the water or in the air? Amen.
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