A homily for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 9, 2026
1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a, Romans 9:1-5, Matthew 14:22-33
There’s a point in all children’s lives when they transform, butterfly-like, from babies to toddlers.
They haul themselves up, stand wobbily, and then … toddle. They walk. Not well at first, and not far, but they walk. They tumble, sometimes cry, then hoist themselves and set off again. And again.
And…
Again…
Walking evolves into running. Running morphs into dancing.
All this frenetic movement leads to exhausted, but proud, parents.
When little people successfully incorporate the nonstop moseys into their daily routines, parents know that “No!” and “Why?” are on the way. Children’s physical development and mental growth are intertwined. Parents and pediatricians track the kids’ benchmarks.
As does our Father in Heaven, throughout all of our lives. Our loving and caring Triune parent, who gives us everything we need to become our best selves in the image and likeness of the Divine. Our proud parent, who rejoices every time we achieve a unique benchmark in our lives. Our unique God-given lives.
We achieve physical and mental milestones as we mature, but we also mature emotionally and spiritually. God cheers that growth the most, and helps us nourish that growth throughout our lives.
Most of us remember today’s passage from Matthew’s Gospel as the story of how Jesus walked on the water. Of course he did. He’s Jesus, the Son of God. He can walk on the water, tell the wind to chill out, order the waves to stop slapping the side of the boat, command entire schools of fish to surrender themselves to the net.
He can, and he did.
Die a gruesome death to atone for every sin everywhere eternally, and then conquer death by rising through divine power?
He can, and he did.
And he calls us to follow him.
Can we? Do we?
Yes, today’s Gospel passage reminds us that Jesus can and did walk on the water. And that is justifiably awe-inspiring. Infinitely memorable. Meme-worthy.
But when we think about and talk about this miracle, we gloss over a key part:
With God’s help, Peter walked on the water.
Not well and not far, but he walked. On the water.
It was only when he stopped trusting in the ability of Jesus to support him that Peter started to drown. Had Peter stayed in tune, stayed yoked to Our Lord, displayed a mature faith, shown a mature spirituality, the two of them could have trotted off on a Galilee 5K and left the boys in the boat with their jaws dropped. Jesus and Peter could have danced a Bethlehem boogie on the bay.
We can, too.
We should, too.
Not walk on water, necessarily, though with God, anything is possible.
(Duke Kahanamoku needed a surfboard, but he did it.)
We spend a lot of time — time we can’t afford to fritter away — in the swamp of woulda-shoulda-coulda. We may think of the many ways we can bring people closer to God and God’s Kingdom, especially God’s Kingdom on Earth, and get frustrated or otherwise cowed by what we see as the sheer magnitude of the task.
How do we leave this place better than we found it?
How do we preach and heal and comfort and fit ourselves into all the Beatitudes in Matthew 5:3–12 — the Sermon on the Mount — and Luke 6:20–26 — the Sermon on the Plain?
Really: How do we follow in the footsteps of Jesus, as he invites us to do on the surface of the sea, when conventional wisdom says we’ll drown?
Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”
We need to develop a mature faith. It’s not always easy, but it is life-fulfilling.
Our life in 21st-century Western society is loud, frenetic, frantic, and downright frightening. We occasionally doubt the presence of God in our lives, and question whether we indeed have received the tools and talents and intellect to accomplish what we’re on Earth to do.
To end war and bring justice and dignity to all our sisters and brothers. To preserve and improve Creation, our shared home on Earth. To cure disease. To feed every person. To wipe away every tear.
To make our marks, whether that’s in one life or billions. Whatever we’re called and empowered to do.
We can stand upright by believing this: God gave us, and continues to give us, everything we need to do good in his name.
All acts of love are priceless.
All acts of love are immense.
The tiniest act of love is immense.
All acts of love come, ultimately, from God.
Amid our modern-day din, we learn from Elijah at the cave. We remember that God is in the gentle whispering wind, and we hear God’s voice and feel God’s grace when we take a breath and extend our hands to ask for help.
We can walk on water, if only figuratively. And that can be enough.
We can walk on water if we let God hold our hand.
