By Mary Davis, Seminarian InternMatthew 14:22-33
It’s been a strange year for me, this year, here at St. George’s, because so much of it has been about “Peter.” I resonated with Peter in our Good Friday service back in March, and now, here I am again, resonating with Peter in our Gospel lesson today, as he steps out onto the water, in faith. I lived this story of faith during the past few weeks, so coincidently or not, here I am to preach about it today.
I stepped into my own boat, heading for the “other side,” though my boat was actually an Air France flight heading to Paris. I was on a pilgrimage to Taize, France, where an ecumenical group of approximately 100 brothers live and worship – it was a 12-day journey into the monastic life of simplicity and silence. Being completely honest, there was really nothing about this trip that I wanted to face and I had times when I seriously doubted whether I’d actually get on the plane or not. I didn’t like the idea of being away from my family for so long. I knew that traveling in a group of relative strangers would test my limited stores of patience. And I was afraid to face the mysterious unknown of the monastic spiritual life. But this trip was a requirement for my Master’s degree at Drew University, I had paid my money and lined up babysitting coverage at home – so off I went. Though very reluctantly.
When we arrived in Taize, the storm clouds gathered very quickly, and the metaphorical waves began to kick up. I quickly discovered a life unlike anything I’ve ever known here in the states. Life was hard – the meals were meager, the lodging was rustic, and the showers, at least on that first day, were ice cold.
And as you might imagine, a monastery which is flooded by 5,000 pilgrims every week during the summer requires every hand to help with the chores around the property. So we pilgrims, all 5,000 or so, were divided into smaller groups, and group by group we functioned both as a bible study group and as a work team. Some groups served the meals, while other groups cleaned the dishes, and still other groups helped out during our 3-time-a-day worship services. Imagine my horror when my particular group’s daily work assignment was to clean the bathrooms!
I had been somewhat deflated by the food situation. I was dispirited by the cold showers. And I was downhearted by my bunkmates’ night time snoring which kept me awake all night - - but the bathroom duty depressed me to no end. So I did what any self-respecting 42 year old seminary student on a pilgrimage away from home would do – I started to whine. To anyone, and everyone, who would listen.
I took my despair to our Drew group leader who also served as our resident spiritual director. He was obviously blessed with a much deeper spiritual well than I, and he responded with what I started calling one of his “Jesus answers.” He told me a brief story about humility, and then said, “Mary, there is grace in cleaning the toilets. You will see.” Clearly, this was not the answer I was looking for, and I had serious serious doubts. As it says in today’s Gospel, my boat was not just being rocked by the waves, it was being battered by the waves!
The next day, time came for our group’s cleaning duty, and I showed up at the appointed time to face my fear and despair. I was tempted to show up, wearing my ipod, cleaning in as detached a way as possible, but then decided that would be the same as if Peter had climbed back into the boat cowering with the rest of the disciples. So, I arrived for duty, along with five other women who had been assigned to the job, and we began to organize ourselves. We quickly tripped over a major problem. There was a huge barrier between us - language. I had been grouped with 3 Portuguese women and 2 other British women, and it quickly became clear that these two camps did not share one word in common. Just like Peter, I was beginning to sink deeper and deeper into my well of fear and doubt. I thought, could things get any worse?
But just then, another woman arrived, and she stepped in, almost miraculously, and eagerly and capably translated instructions and strategies for cleaning amongst our two linguistic subgroups. And with that, the 6 of us began to connect. Walls broke down between us, and my wall of disgust for the job which we had been assigned began to melt away as well. We worked together - all of us, so different and yet all of us very much the same - all on a pilgrimage to find Christ in a foreign land. And believe it or not, the work turned into a service of joy, not just an obligation or a duty – but an expression of love, through service. Truthfully, if I hadn’t been a part of it, I never would have believed.
As we finished mopping and squeegying the floors, took off our gloves and put our brooms away, I asked my newfound interpreter and friend, “Oh and by the way, what is your name?” To which she responded, “My name is [gratie]” “[gratie]? I asked,” not wanting to mispronounce her name, and she said, “Yes, it’s spelled G-R-A-C-E.”
Just like Peter walking out onto the water, full of faith yet at the same time, full of fear and doubt, I walked out onto the choppy, and dirty, waters. And I discovered that Jesus had extended his hand to me, even in the midst of my whining doubts. I found grace in cleaning those toilets and I realized that service can and should come from a place of joy, joy which can only be found in God’s love for us and shared with each other through Christ’s embodied extended hand which we can experience in and through our fellow human beings.
But this was a daring gamble. I wanted to stay home on the front end. And even after I arrived, I still wanted to run home. But I stepped out of the boat in faith, dared to trust, and truly found grace in the process.
Several times last week, we sang a Russian chant during worship in Taize. It read, “Bog jest miloscia.” The English translation of the entire chant reads: “God is forgiveness. Dare to forgive and God will be with you. God is forgiveness. Love and do not fear.”
So the message I bring home from Taize is the same message that Peter might have preached to the crowds on the shoreline. Dare, today and in the days to come, to walk out on the water, answering Jesus’ call to “Come.” Dare to include and extend yourself to those who are different, perhaps those who speak a different language – even if you share the same English dialect. Dare to listen to others. Even more than that, dare to be silent and listen for ways God speaks to you. Dare to reach out for Jesus, and the living Christ will extend his hand to us, and to you, in love. I experienced this many times over during the course of my trip. And each time, Christ reached out and touched me in love through someone or something in my path. The whole week, I kept asking God, just to make sure, “Are you still there?” “I’m here” was God’s answer.
Dare to believe it in your own lives. Then, better yet, dare to step out onto the water and live it as well.
Amen.
© 2008 Mary Davis
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