In our gospel we find the disciples battling against the tempestuous waves and howling winds. They were caught in a storm that threatened to overwhelm them. Amidst this chaos, they spotted Jesus walking on the water towards them. Filled with awe and faith, Peter cried out, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus responded, “Come.” And Peter, guided by faith, stepped out of the boat and began walking towards his Lord… and then, perhaps, he realizes he’s not in the boat. As an experienced fisherman he knows the danger of the wind and waves. Fear seizes him and he begins to sink into the chaos. Fortunately, Jesus seizes his hand, pulls him from certain death, and gets him back into the safety of the boat. Seems as though there was a moment when Peter“lost his faith.”  Losing one’s faith. We hear that often. It was the topic of discussion this Tuesday evening at the Men’s Fellowship meeting.  There was great conversation and insight. We all know family, friends and people who “lost their faith.” Some of the men at the meeting lost their faith for a while, but came back.  Perhaps in the context of this week’s gospel we can say they got out of the boat, lost their way for a while, sank in the chaos of life’s storms, but made their way back. Some Jesus picked up by the hand. Some were thrown a lifeline. Some were saved by rescue swimmers and towed back to the gunnels where many hands of the crew lifted them into the boat. What was common was leaving the safety and security of the boat.

Why do people get off the boat? We might be enticed by the siren’s call of fame, fortune, and folly. Perhaps we are swayed by secular ideologies or get carried off by the tide of popular opinions. Lots of reasons people get off the boat.

The thing is when you are off the boat, your bearings are hard to find. Floating in the ocean, even if you’re near land, you might not be able to see it due to distance and wave height – and the energy you’re spending to stay afloat. In the boat you have perspective, charts, a sexton, and all the navigation gear to set a sure and steady course. In the boat, you have an experienced captain and crew with years of wisdom gained from sailing the waters of life. Off the boat there is nothing to anchor you, keep you afloat.

In the oldest Christian catacombs, artwork represents the Church as that boat. We carry that same sense in our churches. Do you know the name of the part of the church where you are sitting? It’s called the nave – from the Latin navis meaning boat. That same artwork displays all the gifts of the Church as working gear and treasures of the Church.

This gospel scene captures a vital spiritual lesson that should resonate deeply with us as it did with our ancestors in the faith. The boat / Church is the vessel that Christ established to navigate the challenges of life’s storms. Just as the disciples were secure in the boat amidst the raging sea, we too are called to find safety, guidance, and nourishment within the embrace of the Church. We need to stay in the boat where there is access to all that we need to sail through this life to life eternal.

Staying in the boat of faith, in union with the Church, signifies remaining anchored to the teachings of Christ, handed on by the Apostles and their successor, forming the teaching and wisdom of the Magisterium. We have our sailing and tidal charts in Sacred Scripture and Tradition. We possess the logs and ship’s reports of the Saints, Spiritual Masters, and the stories of everyday saints, and the Catechism. And in this parish, the good ship St. Francis, we have an experienced captain and you… the crew – from Master Chiefs to seamen recruits.

And we have the Sacraments for every part of the journey.

It is all there “in the boat” where we worship and praise our Lord Jesus Christ who is right here in the boat, really and truly present in the Eucharist.

Why am I telling you this? After all, you’re here in church. You’re in the nave; you are on board. Well… it seems to me there are three types of people on board. First, there is the Captain. I mean more than the pastor. There is the staff from Liturgy to Children’s Faith Formation with their department head and master chiefs. There is the crew, able bodied seamen willing to put their efforts to hoisting sails, their backs to oars, and their hearts to Lord. This is the community of volunteers and worshipers, a community who belongs and is growing in holiness. They use the gifts, know the stories, read the Bible, study the faith, and make every muster.

And then there are the passengers; along for the ride. They see the crew pitching in, but they mainly watch. They have access to the same gifts and they always meant to read the Bible, take a course, but… but maybe they’ll stay, maybe they’ll get off at the next port – especially once this storm is over.

Why am I telling you all this? Here at church are you part of the crew or only a passenger? At home are you Captain of the home church guiding the family crew? Are you trained in or training others in how to use the “holy navigating gear” to find smooth waters and safe havens?  In any and all places, have you engaged the passengers, to tell them about the wisdom, the wonder and the wow of belonging, being in and staying on the boat?

Our faith is not a solitary journey; it is a communal pilgrimage. When we stay united with the Church, we find solidarity with the saints who have gone before us and the living Body of Christ that spans time and space. Through the boat of the Church, we are connected to the life-giving grace of the Sacraments, the teachings of the Gospel, and the loving guidance of the Holy Spirit. In the boat we belong to the People of God in this local time and place. We belong.

Amen.

Image credit: Jesus and Peter on the water – Gustave Brion, oil, 1880 | Public Domain