Thursday, August 13, 2026

Homily: The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost [August 9, 2026] St. Stephen's, Santa Clarita


            Like many Santa Claritans trying to beat the heat this summer, my son and I spent three hours we’ll never get back at the Regal Cinema in Valencia watching Christopher Nolan’s movie The Odyssey, in Imax no less. There are things I liked about the movie, things I didn’t. I’m not sure I understand why The Odyssey has become such a cultural phenomenon. But at least it has helped get our minds off  some of the horrible stuff going on this summer, and for that we can be grateful.

Watching The Odyssey did get me thinking about mythology in a way I hadn’t done for a long time. The Israel that produced our Bible and its faith in one God was surrounded by peoples who worshipped a panoply of deities. One of things that makes Biblical religion unique in the ancient world is the way it pictures the human relations with the divine. Odysseus wandered the sea for ten years because he offended Poseidon. In polytheistic religions like those of Greece and Rome, human beings are the playthings of the gods. In the religion of the Old and New Testaments, we humans carry God’s very image and so are precious. Jesus got into trouble with Rome in good part because he took people and their needs seriously.

            In a funny way, seeing The Odyssey set me up for thinking about today’s Gospel, the familiar story about Jesus walking on water and Peter’s amusing attempt to imitate him. In the polytheistic religions of Jesus’s day, walking on water was a divine prerogative, and earthly rulers often tried to make it look like they could do so, too. The ability to walk on water was, in Jesus’s time, a symbol both of godly authority and human presumption. The Roman Emperor Caligula built a 50-kilometer temporary bridge across the Bay of Naples to make it look as if he were skimming above the waves. Human rulers pretended to be gods, and what better way to buttress your bona fides than to make yourself look like a human hovercraft?

            The connection between water walking and divinity is key to the part of our reading where those in the boat proclaim Jesus to be the Son of God. For Jesus’s companions, this miraculous event is yet another demonstration of his claim to divine authority. But for me the heart of this story lies not in the walking on the water itself 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.” A Roman god wouldn’t do that. Jesus would.

            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.” 

            The apostle Paul knew what he was talking about when he said to the Corinthians, “We are fools for Christ’s sake.” Some saw Christian charity and compassion as foolish: if our gods don’t care about people, the God of Jesus must be crazy. But over time this foolishness became wisdom and is the hallmark of what makes us Christians unique. Like Jesus, we care about others. Like Jesus, we are willing to look foolish when we respond to human need.

            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.

            Over the course of the Gospel stories, Peter becomes the exemplary disciple, and his rash desire to imitate Jesus by walking on water can strike us as a mere comic touch. But we shouldn’t be so quick to judge Peter here. In a sense, imitating Jesus is what the Christian life is all about. We imitate Jesus whenever we do acts of mercy, compassion, and forgiveness. Peter is willing to be seen a fool when he jumps out of the boat. But aren’t our acts of justice and generosity seen as foolish in a world ruled by modern Caligulas?

            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 that might makes us look weak or vulnerable. We constrain ourselves and limit our possibilities.

The world of The Odyssey is a violent and selfish world, overseen by gods who are only out for themselves. The world of the Bible is the same world, but the God who presides in this world is One who knows, loves, and values each and every one of us as we are. We do not have to strive, like Odysseus, for glory and revenge. Today’s Gospel shows us that there is always another way to live. “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” Let us step out, like Peter, to share the blessing of this news with others. Peter second-guessed himself, and we might, too. But the One who calls us out of ourselves will be there to sustain us as we try. Amen.

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