Doubt and fear - Matthew 14:22-33 - Living by the Word - Column

Christian Century, July 14, 1993 by Beverly R. Gaventa

JUST AS THE night is about to give way to daybreak, Peter fails in his attempt to walk on water. That seems appropriate somehow. At least, that is the time when fear steals in at my house and finds me most vulnerable. Some small concern, scarcely noticed during daylight hours, takes on monstrous proportions in that still, quiet time just before the dawn. A letter too long neglected. A telephone call left unanswered. A careless word or action that may have hurt a friend.

Fear does not confine itself to that hour of the night, of course. In fact, it controls much of what we do. Fear about financial security prompts career choices or constricts our reactions to the needs of others. Fear for our relationships moves some of us to cling and others to flee. Fear that our labor will amount to nothing produces an obsession that robs vocation of its pleasure.

Matthew's story of Jesus walking on the water is, first and foremost, a story about Jesus. In some of the miracle stories, demonstrations of Jesus' power raise questions about his identity. Here we find not questions about Jesus' identity but first a mistaken identification ("It is a ghost!"), then a tentative identification ("If it is you...") and finally a statement of faith ("Truly you are the Son of God"). The disciples serve largely as vehicles through whom Matthew draws attention to Jesus' identity.

In the disciples' response and especially in the incident involving Peter, however, Matthew also tells a story about human fear. Fear characterizes the atmosphere of the whole story. The disciples are separated from Jesus, and their boat is threatened by a storm. Knowing the sea's treachery, we fear for them. Despite Jesus'acts of healing, his earlier calming of a storm and the feeding of the 5,000 in the preceding scene, the disciples can only assume that the figure who walks toward them is a ghost. They react with terror, an appropriate response in biblical narrative for those in the presence of God or God's agents.

The second part of the story concerns not the awe that should characterize human beings who stand before God, but cold, raw, debilitating fear. The narrator singles out Peter, who boldly urges Jesus to allow him also to walk on the water. At Jesus' call, Peter walks toward Jesus until he remembers the storm and begins to sink because he is afraid. Upon Peter's cry for help, Jesus reaches out to save him, asking, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?"

What this part of the story conveys about Jesus is fairly straightforward. Not only does Jesus have the power to control the turbulent waters and even to walk on them, but he can bestow that power on others and rescue those in distress. Matthew's designation of Jesus as Emmanuel, "God is with us," here becomes explicitly salvific in its connotations.

What does the story say about Peter? I confess that I should be quite happy to find that Jesus chastises Peter for his hubris. Why should Jesus have to grant Peter the privilege of walking on water? Can't Peter believe his own eyes without some direct personal experience of the miracle? But while Peter's demand leaves a bad taste in my mouth, the passage gives no indication that his request is out of line.

Many readers will conclude that the story concerns the need for "real" faith. True believers should have no fears. Peter's fear overcomes him only because he does not yet genuinely believe in Jesus. Jesus' question, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" seems to confirm this reading.

What Peter needs, then, is a better brand of faith. But is faith without fear, without doubt, possible? On several occasions in Matthew's Gospel Jesus refers to people of "little faith." With one exception (6:30), these incidents involve the disciples. Jesus describes the disciples as being of "little faith" when they panic in the face of a storm. Later, when they misunderstand a saying of Jesus, he addresses them as "you of little faith." When they find themselves unable to cast out a demon, he again explains that it is because of their "little faith." To be of "little faith," then, is to be among the disciples, struggling, asking questions, misunderstanding, fearing and starting all over again. It is, however, to be within the circle of those who have at least glimpsed who Jesus is.

Will Peter fear again? We know the answer to that question. When he swears "I do not know the man!" we do not have to be told that fear motivates him. Peter will fear again and again and again. As surely as he fears, however, he knows whose name to call and whose hand will catch him.

And we will fear also. The reflex that causes even newborns to startle at a sudden motion suggests that fear is deeply rooted in the human species. Children who fear monsters in the night are only adults in training, learning the chill that accompanies night terrors. Our fears are reasonable and preposterous, acted out and repressed, acknowledged and denied.

The variety of faith granted to human beings does not banish fear. No amount of moralizing or pleading will make it so. Faith does, however, teach us whose name to call and who waits to calm us, for faith knows who is powerful over the deep of our fears as over the deep of the waters.