Walk on the Water

One of my favorite passages from the Old Testament was the first reading at Mass last Sunday, the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time.  Elijah doesn't find God in fire or earthquake, but in a small, still voice, a light breeze.  My friend Colin discussed it in his blog last week.  Evidently, Colin's post got the attention of Pope Benedict, who discussed the passage in his General Audience on August 10.

As beautiful as that is, the Gospel from that Mass got my attention.  The story from Matthew is familiar.  After feeding the crowd, Jesus goes off to pray by himself; the disciples get in a boat and head toward the opposite shore.  During the night, while their boat is tossed by the waves, the disciples see Jesus walking on the sea itself.  The disciples are terrified, but Jesus tells them, " Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid."  Peter asks Jesus to command him to come to Jesus on the water.  Jesus does so; Peter gets out of the boat and begins to walk on the surface of the water.  When Peter becomes fearful, he begins to sink, and he cries out for help.  Jesus saves Peter, asking him, "Why did you doubt?"

The message is a clear display of the power of faith--and of fear.  Those of us in recovery can find solace and admonition without any heavy interpretation.

As I listened to the reading at Mass, I was struck by a thought.  In Jungian dream analysis, bodies of water symbolize the unconscious.  Note: I am not a Jungian analyst by any stretch.  A little reading and hanging out with knowledgable people may go a long way in getting me into real trouble here.  Nonetheless, the interpretation works for me.  Christ is totally and completely Himself, not the product of an interior struggle with original sin and its concomitant wounds as we are,  and finds no trouble mastering the unconscious.  Peter can likewise stride the unconscious and all that it holds--monsters and overpowering tumult--until he becomes afraid, loses faith.

The monsters that lurk beneath the surface of my waters are no doubt very different from your monsters. Alcohol allowed me to express my brokenness with frightening efficiency.  The pain from my wounds, if not their sources, became starkly evident.  Matthew's Gospel doesn't tell me that these monsters--my wounds and my pain--go away if approached with faith and fearlessness.  It tells me that I can, if I rely fearlessly on Christ, approach Him as He calls me--that, like Him, I can be truly myself, who I am meant to be, regardless of the monsters that lie under the surface.