The Wind and the Waves

This is the sermon for Advent 3, preached on December 14, 2025 by Merry Anne Hood, based on Matthew 14: 22-32.

Today is the third Sunday of Advent, which is traditionally the Sunday of “Joy.” So it is fitting that our scripture text for today is one of Jesus’s funniest miracles. Unfortunately – and I apologize – I am not funny.

Three out of our four gospels report the miracle of Jesus walking on the water. They are unusually consistent in their telling. This is a story the disciples remembered clearly, and talked about widely. It is short, and memorable. The boat, the dark, the fierce winds – and Jesus Christ strolling casually through the waves. Do not be afraid.

Since we know this story, I would like to ask for a little congregational participation as we read it again. When we say wind and waves, el viento y las olas (and we’ll say it just like that, both English and Spanish), will you please wave in your seat a little? You can sway, or wave your hand, whatever you like.

Friends, today we all will be the wind and waves, el viento y las olas.

Among the Gospels, I think of the Gospel of Matthew as the Gospel of Church Hurt. I told you, we are steering straight away from the fun. Matthew is the gospel that gives us the first church disciplinary process. Matthew is the gospel that gives us 90% of the imagery that started to form the Catholic conception of hell, with its weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Matthew is the most determined to reference Jewish scriptures, and most determined to name names when the chief priests, the scribes, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Herodians – all Jewish – fail to recognize Jesus as the Messiah.

Matthew writes like someone whose deep investment in his Jewish religious community has left him wounded. Matthew writes like someone who knows how it feels to be mistrusted. Mistreated. Maligned.

Matthew also writes like someone who is worried about his own bad behavior, someone who knows what harm it is easy to do from a place of fear, or pain, or privilege. Matthew writes about forgiveness.

I turn to Matthew when I am sick at heart about the things people think they can say about their neighbors with a Bible in one hand. Tell them about the gnashing of teeth, Matthew!

We like to cut our Scripture up into bite-sized pieces for worship, so it is easy to forget that in all three gospels that tell it, the story of Jesus casually walking in the dark through the wind and waves, el viento y las olas, comes right after the feeding of the five thousand with five loaves and two fishes.

It is harder to forget in the version from Mark. In Mark, after the five thousand have eaten, Jesus sends the disciples ahead by boat while he catches some alone time to pray.

They struggle against the wind and waves, el viento y las olas, and he tries to scootch by them, but they see him in the dark and start screaming.

Put yourself in their boat for a moment. Imagine the long day you have had, serving five thousand people on day one of the first soup kitchen.

Imagine you are rowing, overnight, because the wind and waves, el viento y las olas, are so bad that your travel plans are all ruined. You have already had one miracle today and there was a lot of cleanup.

And then in the dark behind you – a dude! Walking through the wind and waves, el viento y las olas!

Jesus says, no, guys, it’s me, calm down, and gets in the boat, and the wind ceased. And Mark, chapter 6 verse 51, says, “And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.”

Mark says this story is about the loaves and the fishes. In the Gospel of John, chapter 6, the next day Jesus starts talking about how he is the Bread of Life. Do not be afraid.

For Mark and John, the loaves and the fishes and walking on the water are miracles that should alert the disciples that God is doing something astonishing in their midst.

The rules have changed. When you see something inexplicable, don’t be afraid. Jesus has stuff to do, and not all of it is going to make sense immediately.

Matthew adds this wonderful story about Peter to the miracle. Now, keep in mind – this is a story about the loaves and fishes.

So when Jesus says, “Hey, it’s just me!”, Peter does the craziest thing possible. He says, “If it’s really you, tell me to come out there!” Into the wind and waves, el viento y las olas.

Imagine the other disciples, tired and sore, watching this go down. Jesus says: go for it.

The last time that the disciples were in a boat in a storm with Jesus, in Matthew 8:23, they woke up him to tell him they were all going to die, and he said to the disciples, “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” and rebuked the wind and waves, el viento y las olas.

Peter hops out of the boat, walks across the water to Jesus, and then his stupid courage fails him.

Okay, now don’t move – this is very relatable. We’re Peter, now, for a moment, and not the rest of the disciples.

Peter cries, Lord! Save me!, and Jesus’s hand is already reaching out to grab him.

Friends, never let anyone tell you that it’s inappropriate to ask for help. In the dark and the storm, even when you know Jesus is standing right beside you, we are human beings, we are made in God’s image, and we were made to cry out.

Jesus does give Peter a hard time about it, but he grabs him first.

Peter needs the reminder that this has all happened before. And that’s okay. This is a story about the loaves and the fishes.

On this Sunday of Joy, I want to point out how deeply funny it is for poor Jesus, who spent 40 days in the wilderness telling Satan that it’s not okay to put God to the test, to have to scream across the lake: sure, Peter, let’s do this in the middle of the night.

Two thousand years later, this is one of the most relatable stories in the Bible. We don’t have Jesus’s hands to hold any more – we have to offer our own, now.

You can move again, together we are the wind and waves, el viento y las olas, again. Look around, at this image, of all of us as the storm. (Keep moving until the Spanish has had a chance to finish.)

The winter has not started yet. There is plenty to fear, in these cold months.

The Gospel of Matthew, with all his Church Hurt, reminds us that both the best thing and the scariest thing out there is actually each other.

I hope that you will all go from this sanctuary remembering Jesus’s example: don’t give someone a hard time until they know that they are safe.

Christmas is coming. I hope that you will go into this season of bills and advertisements and temptation, this season of being tired. All. The. Time, remembering that the Bible is funny.

Humans are funny. We do crazy things when we are scared. Matthew reminds us that we also do crazy things when we are brave – Peter did not need to jump out of the boat. He did all that to himself.

This is a season of noise and silence. Remember the little girl in the book, who thought her friend abandoned her and worked herself up so she threw away her friend’s gift.

You can be afraid, if you want. You are in good company, if you are. But don’t let fear make you hurt people.

(I don’t know if it translates?): Don’t hurt your own feelings.

Christ is with you. Christ loves you.

Christ loves these other guys, too, as exhausting as that is to hear.

For the love of God, don’t be the storm to someone tired and scared, this winter.

Go into the world seeing the miracles, and always asking yourself: Is this about the loaves and fishes?

Do not be afraid of the things that don’t matter.

For Matthew, the Day of Judgement will be very clear, and very specific: did you feed the hungry? Did you welcome the stranger?

Because that is the Word of God, for the people of God.

Amen.