10 Aug Sermon for the 10th Sunday after Trinity, Year A

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Sunday 9th August, 2026

As the British Board of Film Censors – or whatever they call themselves nowadays – attempts to give more precisely codified warnings, I wonder if you have recently selected a film only to have it inform you: “PG – mild violence, sustained threat”.  In the first place, a parent or grandparent may well ask, ‘what does it mean by mild?’. In my experience, many action or adventure films seem to be increasingly aggressive and gory these days, and perhaps that reflects the times we live in and the willingness of news channels to show live footage from disasters or the front lines of the many current conflicts.

   For now, however, I am more interested in the issue of threat, because two of today’s readings – from I Kings and Matthew – deal with responses to threat, and not the responses of the apathetic or cowardly, but the responses of tough, caring, obedient servants of the Lord.

   The first is Elijah, a prophet in Israel with a high reputation for speaking the word of the Lord honestly and boldly.  Seeing God and God’s Law increasingly ignored, and the worship of Baal becoming more prevalent, Elijah has summoned up his righteous indignation and his courage and has challenged the prophets of Baal to a stand-off on Mount Carmel.  Before a big crowd, we are told, the Lord answers Elijah’s prayer, proves His divine power, and the prophets of Baal are slaughtered in the valley below.  Would that count as ‘mild violence’?

   Anyway, what happens next? 

King Ahab goes home with his tail between his legs but Queen Jezebel, being made of sterner stuff, sends Elijah a message, threatening to kill him as soon as she can. Her reputation must have been more fearsome than his own, because Elijah runs away. He flees, not just into hiding, but all the way south, beyond Judah, towards the desert. There he leaves even his own servant – in case the man is bribed or tortured, I suppose – and carries on, alone, far from any human habitation. 

Sustained threat? You bet ya! He’s been on the run for days, maybe weeks – depending on the animal he might have ridden. He’s in a panic. Then an angel offers him bread and water – hard rations – but enough to flee even further!  Might the angel also signify the beginnings of an alternative view? A glimpse of a future that doesn’t end with a grisly death? A first softening of his fear?

   At any rate it gives Elijah the opportunity, or the strength, to open himself to God.  Hearing the Lord, Elijah rehearses his fear at Jezebel’s threat, and God tells him to stand, wait, listen. What follows would cheer the heart of any fan of disaster films: a smashing wind, an earthquake, a raging fire. Threat and counter-threat?  No. God is not in these but in the sheer silence which follows. Divine power has again proved stronger. The fear is calmed. Elijah steps forward to listen, and is able to hear the word of God. It isn’t a comforting word; it promises more confrontation. But it is God’s word: the sustained threat is dissolved, and Elijah has the courage once more to speak prophetically.

   From film to prose fiction. Are any of you fans of John Masefield? One of his novels – and I’m afraid that even with the marvels of technology I could not retrieve the particular title – concerns a sailing ship, a clipper, caught in a massive storm which kills half the crew, severely damages the ship, and leaves them to limp home to England. The book is not very long, but more than half of it – over one hundred pages – is taken up just by the description of that storm. It is an amazing tour de force, gripping and terrifying, and very much in the category of ‘sustained threat’.

   But, unlike Masefield’s or the storm described earlier in Matthew, chapter 8, the threat in today’s Gospel is not from the sea as such: many of the disciples are fishermen, the Sea of Galilee is not that large, and the chief problem is that they are trying to move against the wind, so the threat isn’t great – from the sea. What terrifies them, we’re told, is not the storm, but the sight of Jesus walking on the lake. 

   The protagonist, here, is ‘Peter’ – so already nicknamed ‘Rocky’ –  an experienced fisherman who has been steering into the wind, perhaps, or keeping the stroke as they row. Was he one of those who ‘cried out in fear’, thinking it was a ghost? Maybe. But he is soon able to hear the word of Jesus,

  “Take heart, it is I”  [Matt. 14: 27]

That changes everything and Peter becomes almost cocky: 

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, you can let me walk on the water too. How about it?’

And Jesus says, “Come”.

   But now the threat surges again, even as the waves surge. The experienced boatman is now outside the boat; he hasn’t anything to hold onto, except an invitation. What was he thinking?! Had he completely lost his mind? Was this a dream, or a nightmare? 

Peter panics.

   This time there is no Roland Emmerich-style cataclysm. Instead there is a strong arm, a warm hand, and a voice – in his head, surely, given the noise of wind and water – ‘Oh Peter, why did you doubt?’ 

   Threat, fear, surge of relief, then threat and fear again. Quite a rollercoaster for poor Peter. And maybe a lesson for him, a bit more self-awareness. 

   Nowadays we tend to feel that nature has been tamed. Or, in cases where it is still lethal, we expect it to be predictable, because satellites warn of storms and accurate ground sensors warn of volcanic eruptions. The threats come mostly from people – surprise, surprise! 

Also, in Britain, we tend to live with only a low level of threat – unless we’re Jews quietly minding our own business, or politicians courting headlines. It is mostly members of the Armed Forces, serving overseas, who face sustained threat – and hence the distressing prevalence of PTSD among veterans: they have lived with such high levels of sustained threat that they cannot relax and let it go even when they are back in safety. 

   But there are quite a lot of Christians in some parts of the world who still face daily hostility and violence: their experience is more like Elijah’s. The greater danger for us may be the steady, eroding pressure of entropy, apathy, disinterest or mockery.

If those are the winds and waves which we face then surely our answer is the same as Peter’s: to look to Jesus, to his promise and his strength – in raising our spirits even though our bodies may be weighed down – knowing that he too faced threats and opposition, pain and apathy, that he too had plenty of opportunities to shy away from his task or give up,  yet remained true to the One who sent him, serving all around him and bringing them Good News.

Let us pray that we may persevere as Jesus did, to the glory of God the Father.

Amen.

Abbot Thomas

Miller, Mary Jane. Peter Walking on Water, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt University Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://act.library.vanderbilt.edu/artworks/59763 [retrieved August 10, 2026]. Original source: Mary Jane Miller, https://www.millericons.com/.