HOMILY FOR THE NINETEENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR IN THE ORDINARY TIME – YEAR A

Rev. Fr. (Dr.) Osmond Anike

Readings:

First Reading:: 1 Kings 19:9, 11-13 – The Lord was not in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire.

Responsorial Psalm:Psalm 84(85):9-14 – Let us see, O Lord, your mercy, and give us your saving help.

Second Reading:Romans 9:1-5 – I would willingly be condemned if it could help my brothers.

Gospel:Matthew 14:22-33 – Jesus walks on the water

The Latin adage, laborare est orare (= to work is to pray), is a statement that is as true as it can be misleading. Human species has survived because of the power of human labour. Man is designed by nature as a “working being” (homo faber). His digital arrangement is such that can handle tools. Work is therefore, an essential part of human nature. Even on the spiritual realm, work is encouraged as something that goes hand-in-hand with faith. St. Paul tells us that faith without good work is dead in itself. Elsewhere, he insists that, he who does not work, should not eat. All these are to encourage people to labour for their daily bread and stop being a burden to others. They were also meant to teach us that spirituality can be practiced in the midst of activities.

However, when some people quote the adage, laborare est orare, they understand it to mean that as long as you work, there is no need to pray; after all, good work produces living faith. Why pray when you can work, they ask rhetorically. Work and you shall have prayed, they conclude. With this mind-set, they try to escape the “aloneness” associated with prayer, which they often misinterpret as “loneliness”.  Because it creates the absence of the crowd, aloneness might appear to be terrifying at the beginning. But when one perseveres, one would soon discover that aloneness removes one from the “crowd” in order that one can clearly and distinctively see “individuals”. Because of the hassles and bubbles of our daily activities, we are often in the midst of the crowd without ever getting to see individuals. And because we have failed to identify individuals, we cannot attend to their needs. We are accustomed to the crowd. When last did you see an individual?

But there is another thing that aloneness does for us – it brings us closer to nature where we can discover and recognise the voice of the Divine. With this discovery, our mission as both human beings and Christians would be clearer to us. Jesus was the most active of all, involving himself in the socio-political and economic problems of his society. Yet, in the midst of this active role, he constantly dismissed the crowd in order to be alone with God and commune with nature. The result is that he always came out more clear-sighted. Almost all of the most important decisions of his ministry were taken after such period of aloneness – his choosing of the apostles, the series of miracles he performed, his acceptance of the Passion, etc.

In the first reading of today, Elijah had time off to be in the cave alone all night on the mountain of Horeb. The result of this aloneness exercise was that, contrary to the widely held belief that Yahweh manifested in such natural phenomena as strong wind, earthquake, fire, etc., he discovered that Yahweh rather appears in a gentle whisper (in a still, small voice).  The lesson for us is that, if we want to see clearly and make discoveries, we must come out the crowd and “go up the mountain” where we can be alone. It is in that state of aloneness that great things happen in our lives. Have we ever wondered why great scientific, artistic and spiritual discoveries had always taken place in the state of aloneness?

Going up the mountain, however, does not entail running away from the crowd. One can be in the crowd but not of the crowd; just as one can be alone and yet “full” of the crowd. When one is “full” of the crowd, one is not clear-sighted. Because they did not discharge the crowd, the disciples, in the Gospel of today, could not see clearly. They mistook Jesus for a ghost. And even when Jesus reassured them, they were still hesitant. I think also that Peter was not able to walk on the waters because he was literally “full” of the crowd. He did not discharge the crowd in order to “go up the mountain” to do the aloneness exercise, as Jesus did. He was, therefore, “carrying” the crowd, and became too heavy to walk on the waters. The result was that he started sinking. Had he discharged the crowd as Jesus did, he would have probably been “lighter” on the waters. This is true also with us: As long as we fail to discharge the crowd, we cannot be light enough to walk on the waters of life even when Jesus beckons on us to come. We would be too terrified, like Peter was, to steady our balance.

Peter, however, was able to call on Jesus for help when he started sinking. When we begin to sink in the waters of life, can we remember to beckon on Jesus for help, or do we pretend to struggle on our own by plunging into more activities and thereby sinking further deeper? It is not more activities that will save us, but rather a stillness that is attained only by the practice of aloneness.