10th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 14A

10th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 14A August 9, 2020 I have a joke for all you golfers out there. Jesus and Moses were out playing golf one day. They pull up to a hole in their cart, and they see that this hole has a water element. So Jesus pulls out his 5 iron and prepares to hit. Moses says, ‘I don’t know about that, Jesus. I think you should use your 4 iron here. Jesus replies, “No, I don’t think so, Moses. I’ve been watching a lot of Jack Nicklaus, and I think he’d use the 5 iron here.” Moses says, “Ok, Jesus, whatever you say.” So Jesus hits his ball with the 5 iron and it goes right into the water. Moses takes out his 4 iron and his ball sails over the water. So the two get into their cart and drive down to the water where Jesus is looking around for his ball. Not seeing it on the edge of the water, Jesus proceeds to walk out across the water looking for his ball. Moses sits in the cart waiting when two other golfers drive up to him, and say, “Who does that guy think he is? Jesus?” Moses replies, “No, he thinks he’s Jack Nicklaus.” This past Thursday on our church calendar, we had one of our major feasts: The Feast of the Transfiguration. I’m a part of a weekly Zoom gathering with some seminary classmates every Thursday, and our question for reflection for this week was based on the collect for the Transfiguration. The first part goes “O God, who on the holy mount revealed to chosen witnesses your well-beloved Son, wonderfully transfigured, in raiment white and glistening: Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may by faith behold the King in his beauty…” Our moderator for the day invited us to reflect on the question “What is the disquietude in your life right now that you need God to save you from?” (repeat) It was an interesting question to ponder, and as my friends were speaking, I realized that our disquietude is as unique as each one of us, so I jotted down all the different forms of disquietude I heard in our conversation (and then threw in a few more for good measure). The list of our disquietude included anxiety, loneliness, anger, despair, alienation, fear, noise of others’ opinions, being overwhelmed, unworthiness, sadness, resentment, frustration, loss of control, caring too much about what others think. We see people wrestling with their own disquietude in our lessons for today. Elijah has just come off of an enormous victory against the priests of Baal; he has showed them up with a display of fire from heaven, and he has hunted them all down and killed them. As a result the queen is after him and he is on the run. He is weary (and perhaps, as a result, a little overly dramatic); he is alone, as all the other prophets of Yahweh have been hunted down and killed; and he is beginning to despair. So he goes away to a deserted, holy place; he calls upon God, and God shows up, not in all the noise of the elements but in silence. As an antidote to Elijah’s disquiet, God offers him quiet and the peace of God’s presence. In the gospel reading, we have just seen Jesus feed the 5,000 with a few fish and loaves of bread. He has drawn away to a deserted place, and his disciples have continued on in the boat when a storm blows up. These seasoned fishermen become terrified of the storm, and then they are even more terrified to see Jesus walking to them across the water. Jesus offers them reassurance saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” And then Peter inexplicably says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus is like, “Sure. Come on.” So Peter gets out of the boat and actually starts walking to Jesus on the water, and he is rocking along, but when he notices the strong wind he becomes disquieted and afraid, and beginning to sink, he cries out to Jesus. Jesus offers his hand and says, “Faint-heart, what got into you?” And together they climb into the boat and the wind ceases. One of the reasons it was so helpful for me to talk about disquietude with some trusted friends is that by speaking it, naming it, it helped to refrain from acting out of place of disquietude. Peter steps out of the boat in a spirit of courage and faith to meet Jesus but then his disquietude gets the better of him. But even then, Jesus is there, offering him a hand and walking with him back to the boat. When we act out of our disquietude, it causes problems for us and for those around us. Our family has watched Hamilton since it came out on Disney plus in July, and I actually got to see it in the theater in Chicago this time last year. This week, I’ve been thinking about one of the turning points in the play, which is a number called “Hurricane.” Hamilton has made some bad decisions which he has kept secret, but then his political rivals learn of his indiscretions. And this song Hurricane is all about him wrestling with his own disquietude, worrying about his legacy, and trying to find a way out of the predicament that he is in. He even says that God has abandoned him, so it is up to him. And so Hamilton acts out of this place of disquietude, and it is devastating for his marriage and for his whole family, leading to even worse problems for all of them. It’s a cautionary tale for us when we are tempted to act out of our disquietude rather than seeking out God who promises to always be present with us and who offers what we need whether it is safety and quiet in the face of our enemies or whether it is an invitation to get out of our comfort zone and a helping hand when we begin to flounder. This week, I invite you to ponder the question “What is the disquietude in your life right now that you need God to save you from?” And in your prayers name that before God and ask for God’s saving grace to offer you the quiet your soul needs. In closing, I’ll share a prayer that I have seen posted several places this week that asks God to save us from the way that acting out of our disquietude hurts us and others. It’s attributed to Laura Jean Truman. God, Keep my anger from becoming meanness. Keep my sorrow from collapsing into self-pity. Keep my heart soft enough to keep breaking. Keep my anger turned towards justice, not cruelty. Remind me that all of this, every bit of it, is for love. Keep me fiercely kind. Amen.