19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A), 2026
A Brief Commentary
First Reading: 1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a
Immediately after Elijah triumphed in his confrontation with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, he fled to the south, his life threatened by Queen Jezebel. Jezebel, a Phoenician princess who had married King Ahab of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, had introduced the worship of Baal into the royal court, shaking the foundations of the traditional faith. In the depths of the fear and isolation that struck him right after his victory, Elijah sat down under a broom tree and was so exhausted that he wished for his own death. From there, he walked for forty days and forty nights until he reached Mount Horeb, the mountain of God, located deep in the Sinai Peninsula, far to the south of Beersheba. The number forty echoes the forty days Moses spent with God on Mount Sinai and the forty years Israel wandered in the wilderness, suggesting that Elijah's journey was not merely an escape, but a path that condensed the entire history of the people.
After a night in a cave, Elijah is commanded to stand before God on the mountain. The command, "Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord," and the setting of standing before the passing God, parallel the scene in Exodus 33 where Moses is placed in the cleft of a rock and watches the glory of God pass by. In the midst of human frustration and limitation, God intervenes with objective words. The violent wind is depicted with a destructive power capable of rending mountains and crushing rocks, and together with the earthquake and fire, it follows the old pattern of theophany—the thunder, fire, and dense cloud that appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai. However, the structure of the negative sentences repeated in the original text—that God was not in the wind, not in the earthquake, and not in the fire—clearly indicates that God is no longer a being to be reduced to violent natural phenomena.
The subsequent expression, "a gentle whispering sound" (qol demamah daqqah, קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה), is, if translated literally, a paradoxical phrase meaning "a voice of thin silence." It is a voice, yet it is silence, and it is described as something thin and faint. This contradictory expression is the very way God appeared to Elijah, who was in the depths of the chaos of persecution, and it is only upon hearing this voice that the prophet covers his face with his mantle and steps out to the entrance of the cave. The gesture of covering his face overlaps with the image of Moses, who was afraid to look at God before the burning bush (Exodus 3:6), showing that Elijah, having reached Horeb through the wilderness, stood before God in the same place and with the same awe as his predecessor.
Second Reading: Romans 9:1-5
Chapters 9 through 11 of the Letter to the Romans are a continuous section dealing with the deep pain that Paul could not avoid while preaching the Gospel, and verse 1 of chapter 9 is located at the beginning of this section. Written in the mid-50s AD to the Roman church, which he had not yet visited, this letter begins with a scene facing the reality that while the preaching of the Gospel to the Gentiles was spreading, many of the chosen people of Israel were not accepting it. The contrast between Paul, who in chapter 8 sang loudly that nothing could separate us from the love of God, and the deep lament he begins to speak at the beginning of chapter 9, is a major turning point in the structure of this letter.
Paul supports the truthfulness of his statement with two guarantees: speaking "in Christ" and his "conscience bearing witness in the Holy Spirit" (Romans 9:1). This is not merely an emphasis on a pledge, but shows the fact that Paul's words themselves are placed within communion with God. The pair of Greek terms that follow, "great sorrow" (lype, λύπη) and "unceasing anguish" (odyne, ὀδύνη), are words that express not a temporary surge of emotion, but a persistent inner suffering.
The original word for "accursed" (anathema, ἀνάθεμα) used when he says he could wish to be "accursed and cut off from Christ" for the sake of his kin (Romans 9:3) originally referred to something dedicated to God and separated from human use. Paul puts into this one phrase his resolve to offer himself as a sacrifice for the salvation of Israel.
God counts the blessings given to Israel one by one. He speaks of their adoption as sons (huiothesia, υἱοθεσία), the glory, the covenants, the law, the worship established by God (latreia, λατρεία), the promises, the patriarchs, and even Christ himself according to the flesh, who came from them (Romans 9:4-5). The worship spoken of here is not an idea from the human side, but an objective reality based on norms given by God, and it is a foreshadowing of the true liturgy that is completed in Christ. The covenants are written in the plural to refer to the accumulation of several covenants, such as the covenant with Abraham and the covenant at Sinai. The qualification "according to the flesh" is an expression that serves as a bridge to the praise of Christ that follows. This enumeration is a structure intended to show that God's election has not been revoked but remains valid, and it serves as a foreshadowing of the claim that the word of God has by no means lost its effect.
Gospel Reading: Matthew 14:22-33
Before dawn on the Sea of Galilee, the boat carrying the disciples was troubled by a headwind (Matthew 14:24). The Sea of Galilee has a basin-like topography surrounded by hills, giving it geographical characteristics that make it prone to sudden, strong winds. Jesus, after forcing his disciples to get into the boat, withdrew alone to the mountain to pray (Matthew 14:22-23). The image of Jesus spending the night in communion with God, away from the crowds, is depicted. The group of disciples who boarded the boat serves as a model for the church community continuing its voyage amidst rough waves, and it becomes the stage for the entire scene that follows.
Seeing the figure of Christ approaching while walking on the lake, the disciples are frightened, saying, "It is a ghost," and cry out in terror (Matthew 14:26). In response, Christ says, "Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid" (Matthew 14:27). The "it is I" in the original text is ego eimi (ἐγώ εἰμι), which matches the phrasing of God's self-revelation shown to Moses in the Book of Exodus. This word, echoing in the midst of the chaos of the storm, is not merely an encouragement, but is spoken as the appearance of God himself.
Peter asks, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water" (Matthew 14:28). As the word "command" (keleuson, κέλευσόν) indicates, Peter was able to walk on the water not because of his own power or subjective feelings, but because of his obedience to the objective word spoken by Christ. He stepped out of the boat in response to the single word "Come" and stood on the water while he was walking, but the moment he took his eyes off Christ and became afraid upon noticing the strong wind around him, he began to sink (Matthew 14:29-30).
Christ immediately reaches out his hand to catch Peter and says, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" (Matthew 14:31). The word "little faith" (oligopiste, ὀλιγόπιστε) is a characteristic expression used intensively in the Gospel of Matthew, and it points not to a lack of faith itself, but to a faith that is in the process of wavering. When the two get into the boat, the wind dies down, and those in the boat worship Christ, saying, "Truly, you are the Son of God" (Matthew 14:33). This confession anticipates the profession of faith that Peter will later make in the region of Caesarea Philippi, and it shows how the group gathered in the boat, having crossed the storm, is being transformed into a group that, even while in the process of wavering faith, still confesses Christ as the Son of God.
Catechism
Pericope
Lord, save me
Living with Faith
The boat was in the midst of a storm
Immediately after sharing bread with the five thousand, Jesus strongly urged his disciples to get into the boat and head to the other side. He himself went up the mountain to pray alone. As the night deepened, the boat was caught in a strong headwind in the middle of the lake, far from land, and was continuously pushed back by the raging waves (see Matthew 14:22-24). Jesus was nowhere to be seen, and the disciples had no choice but to keep rowing for their lives in the darkness until near dawn.
This scene on the lake reflects our own journey, as we board the boat of the Church after baptism and are sent from the Sunday liturgy into our daily lives. It was precisely because they followed Jesus' own command that the disciples set out into the rough waves. Even for those who have chosen the path of faith in response to Christ's invitation, the reality of being exposed to the harsh waves and cold headwinds of life remains unchanged. Why do intense trials and darkness visit a life that should be moving straight ahead in obedience to God's word? That deep bewilderment is heavily etched into the hearts of those of us living in the modern age.
Even believers who receive the Eucharist at Sunday Mass and taste intimate union with God face unavoidable illness and suffering in their daily lives. The announcement of an unexpected illness, the bereavement of an irreplaceable family member, unfair treatment at work or at home, and the long night when the situation does not change at all despite continued earnest prayer. In the midst of such reality, it is by no means easy to feel the presence of God. If we turn our eyes to the world, war and unreasonable violence continue to threaten the lives of innocent people. If God is omnipotent and love itself, the painful question of why such suffering and evil are left unchecked becomes an inescapable burden, precisely because we are those who believe in God.
A heart that has savored the certain presence of God in the rich space of the liturgy can be tormented by God's absence the moment it faces the reality of life. When, no matter how many tears we shed in prayer, the illness of a loved one is not healed and a lost life does not return, a lonely night arrives where no light of salvation can be seen anywhere. However, even while we were struggling in the darkness, seeking a response, the warm gaze of Jesus, who was praying on the mountain, never left the disciples tossed by the storm for even a moment.
The Church teaches that our journey of faith on earth is one of "walking by faith, not by sight" (see 2 Corinthians 5:7), and that we walk in a state of knowing God only "in part, as in a mirror, dimly" (see 1 Corinthians 13:12). Therefore, the path of faith is a journey that constantly passes through darkness and trials. The reality of approaching suffering and death seems at first glance to be in sharp conflict with the promises of the Gospel, shaking our trust in God to its very foundations.
No matter how deeply one believes in God, one cannot escape the arrival of darkness or the wavering of doubt (see Joseph Ratzinger, "Introduction to Christianity"). The conflict felt during such trials is by no means the sin of unbelief. If you open the Psalms of the Old Testament, you can see how the people of God have continued to cry out at the top of their lungs to a God who seems silent. The lament, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" eventually became the scream of Jesus himself on the cross, and is still offered to God through the liturgy (see Psalm 22:2). It is precisely when the situation does not change and God seems silent that a quiet decision is required to remain in God's truth and mercy in the darkness, where there is not a single visible guarantee.
As dawn approached, Jesus walked on the lake and approached the disciples. However, the disciples, who were in a state of extreme distress, screamed in terror, saying, "It is a ghost!" (see Matthew 14:25-26). Because the salvation of God that arrived at the moment of extremity far exceeded the poor predictions of humans, it could only be received as fear at first. Even in our daily lives, God's help does not necessarily arrive in the easy-to-understand form that humans desire.
Just as the bread and wine offered at Mass are perceived only through the eyes of faith, beyond the observation of the five senses, the hand of Jesus approaching in the rough waves is sometimes experienced as fear and bewilderment. However, God's mercy is still being poured out incessantly upon the Church and the believers who are tossed by the rough waves.
Jesus spoke gently to the trembling disciples, "Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid" (see Matthew 14:27). Faith is nothing other than the attitude of remaining without ever taking one's eyes off Jesus' words, while accepting the reality of suffering as it is without pretense. When humans deeply realize their own helplessness, they reach the truth of salvation: relying entirely on God's gratuitous mercy.
The liturgy has united this experience of darkness with the offering of Christ's cross on the altar. We offer our daily labors, illnesses, and deep worries in the offering of the Mass because we believe that God's omnipotence works powerfully precisely within human weakness.
The invitation "Come" that Jesus showed Peter in the darkness was something that seemed absolutely "impossible" from the perspective of human strength or common sense, namely walking on water. In our calculations, there are times when it seems like nothing but ruin. However, faith is not telling yourself that it is "not impossible." It is knowing that "it is impossible for me," yet still believing in Jesus' words and taking a step in accordance with those words. It is precisely because it is impossible for humans that we believe in Jesus and walk. Taking that step is what it means to live with faith.
Walking by believing in God's omnipotence
When Peter, distracted by the fierce wind and beginning to sink into the water, screamed, "Lord, save me!" Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" (see Matthew 14:31). These words were not a judgment that blamed and cast him aside, but a message of the certainty of salvation that sustains life through His own hand. Peter sank because he took his eyes off Jesus' words that allowed him to walk on water and was captivated by the reality of the fury of the raging wind. Jesus' call was an infinitely merciful invitation from Jesus, who knew better than anyone the weakness of humans who, while taking a step forward, are frightened by trials. Even when we are overwhelmed by the severity of reality while walking out on our own decisions, if we cry out for salvation from the place of extremity, Jesus' hand will surely catch us and never let go.
The power of God that Jesus showed on the lake is not limited to a visible miracle of instantly calming the wind and waves. Hidden behind the act of walking on water is God's omnipotence, which far exceeds human understanding and measures. The "omnipotence" that humans envision tends to refer to removing obstacles in front of them in an instant and transforming inconvenient situations with direct force. However, the omnipotence of salvation that God revealed in Jesus fundamentally overturns such selfish human frameworks. The figure of Christ on the cross is nothing but the height of powerlessness and defeat from the perspective of this world's standards. Nevertheless, God demonstrated His omnipotence by raising His Son, who had emptied Himself, from the dead, completely defeating the forces of evil and death (the Church teaches that Christ crucified is the power of God and the wisdom of God [see 1 Corinthians 1:25]). God's power was most vividly demonstrated precisely on the cross, which humans perceive as weakness (see Ephesians 1:19-22).
The power of Jesus that caught Peter's hand and the power of God that raised Jesus from the dead are exactly the same one omnipotence of salvation. God's omnipotence does not work in the form of force as humans imagine, but follows a hidden, quiet path. When we are afflicted by serious illness in our lives, important human relationships are broken, and we are tormented by unreasonable suffering, there are times when visible miracles do not happen immediately. At that time, we are exposed to the strong temptation to doubt God's omnipotence. Of course, there is no need to easily romanticize evil or pain. However, faith continues to trust that God has prepared a path of salvation even at the end of the darkness that appears to be a complete dead end to human eyes, and that He will accomplish His plan of salvation beyond all suffering. This is because true faith is not forcing God to produce the results we want, but continuing to follow God's deep providence even in the midst of absurd darkness (see Joseph Ratzinger, "God and the World"). The unwavering conviction that there is nothing God cannot do is what powerfully supports our faith and hope. When we engrave this trust in our hearts, we can safely entrust ourselves even to events that transcend reason and the mystery of salvation.
The supreme example of one who completely entrusted herself to this omnipotence of God was the Virgin Mary. Peter was distracted by doubt when he saw the intensity of the raging wind, but Mary walked with God's word itself as her foundation, not human ability or the ups and downs of the situation. When she received the annunciation from the angel Gabriel that she would become the mother of the Savior, Mary deeply believed that "nothing is impossible for God" and completely offered herself, saying, "Let it be done to me according to your word" (see Luke 1:37-38). Mary did not believe because she foresaw all the events that would happen in advance, but because she trusted in God's omnipotence and mercy from the heart, she stepped out into an unknown journey. Mary's faith, which praised, "The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name," never wavered even through the birth in a poor manger, the flight to Egypt with nothing but the clothes on her back, and the hidden daily life in Nazareth (see Luke 1:49). And even in the greatest darkness, when her beloved Son Jesus was crucified and met a miserable death, Mary continued to stand at the foot of the cross and did not let go of her trust in omnipotence. In the extreme place where Peter was defeated by fear and began to sink, Mary remained with quiet silence, waiting for the work of God to accomplish salvation beyond death.
The sacrament of the Eucharist, in which we participate in the Sunday liturgy, is a holy place where the omnipotence of God, shown on the cross and victorious in the resurrection, is made present at this very moment. The bread and wine placed on the altar are merely fragile food in the observation of natural science, but through the work of the Holy Spirit and the words of Jesus' promise, they are completely transformed into the living body and blood of Christ. The truth of the sacrament, that God's omnipotence is hidden in such a humble and modest form, vividly testifies to the way God works in daily life. When we face our own limitations and the suffering of illness in our lives, we are invited not to hide our helplessness and act strong, but to offer that weakness just as it is to the altar of the sacrament. When we do not rely on our own strength, but walk with deep trust in the omnipotence of God shown in the cross and resurrection, we can continue to walk through today as a path of God's salvation powerfully, without being dominated by fear.
Following Jesus, aiming for the other shore
Peter's decision to step out onto the rough waves was not out of reckless hot-headedness, but because he believed in Jesus' word "Come" that echoed in the darkness and entrusted his body to it (see Matthew 14:29). In light of logic and calculation, the act of stepping out onto raging water appears to be an extremely dangerous and reckless act. However, the reason Peter was able to walk on the water was not because he had special abilities or strong mental power. It was precisely because he kept his eyes on Jesus and responded to His call that he stepped out, and the impossible place was transformed into a path to be traveled. The true source that turns the impossible into the possible is not human passion, but the grace and omnipotence of God who speaks to us.
This movement of stepping out into the unknown, relying solely on the Word, has been repeated time and again throughout the history of salvation in the Bible. Without even being told the destination, Abraham responded to God's call to 'leave your native land,' setting out with only the promise as his support (cf. Genesis 12:1-4). The people of Israel, too, in a desperate situation with the Red Sea blocking their path and the Egyptian chariots closing in from behind, stepped forward, trusting in the dry path that God had opened for them (cf. Exodus 14). What they all have in common is that it was not humans who opened the way with their own wisdom or strength, but rather that they walked with obedience on the impossible path that God had opened. The saying 'nothing is impossible for God' does not mean that we can use God's power for our own selfish plans (cf. Luke 1:37). True faith is a profound obedience that, no matter how impossible it may seem to our own reasoning, leads us to step out of the boat of self-preservation when Christ calls us.
What, then, does the 'other side' that Jesus commanded them to aim for actually signify?
First, for the individual, the 'other side' is the realm of trust where one leaps out of the safe framework one has built for oneself, pushed forward by the Word of Christ. As long as we remain in the boat we are accustomed to, we will not be hurt or betrayed. However, the place where Jesus invites us is always outside such a safe zone. For example, when relationships with family or those around us have grown cold and firmly closed, the act of taking a step forward on one's own for the sake of forgiveness and reconciliation is truly like the decision to step down onto the raging water. When we step forward, not fearing the risk of rejection, and basing our actions not on our own dignity or emotions but on the Word of Christ's love, a new path to the 'other side' is opened. Service from which we cannot expect a reward, or maintaining integrity where no one is watching, are exactly the same movements of life.
And for the Church as a whole, the 'other side' is nothing less than the full picture of the Kingdom of God that will be realized at the completion of history. The Kingdom of Christ has already begun within the Church through Baptism and the Eucharist, but we have not yet reached the time when Christ will come again and all things will be completed. Although the powers of evil and death were decisively defeated by the Cross and Resurrection, the Church journeying on earth is still exposed to intense trials and suffering. Until the day when the new heaven and new earth are fully realized, the Church, in deep suffering, awaits the revelation of the children of God. The other side is not a utopia that humans can build by their own power, but the land of eternal completion that God will grant at the end of history.
Prior to His Ascension, Jesus clearly stated that the time for the completion of God's Kingdom had not yet come (cf. Acts 1:6-8, Isaiah 11:1-9). The present time is a time to patiently await the Second Coming of Christ amidst trials, while witnessing to salvation through the power of the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. The reason so many martyrs and the hidden Christians of Japan were able to protect their faith at the cost of their lives is precisely because they were not distracted by the irrational reality before their eyes, but kept their eyes fixed with certainty on the 'other side' that was promised to be given to them.
In this earthly journey, the Church is often compared to a 'boat' because it is the people of God gathered by the call of Christ, rowing together toward the other side. Peter's walk on the lake was never meant to end as a personal performance. After being powerfully pulled up by Jesus, the place Peter returned to was the boat where the disciples were huddled together (cf. Matthew 14:32). And everyone in the boat became one, prostrated themselves before Jesus, confessed, 'Truly, you are the Son of God,' and worshipped Him (cf. Matthew 14:33).
This event eloquently speaks to the inseparable connection between an individual's decision of faith and the communal nature of the Church. In faith, there exists a solemn moment where one, as an individual, faces Jesus seriously and steps out from the edge of the boat into the darkness. No one can step on the water in place of another, and there is nothing to do but cry out, 'Lord, save me!' However, the destination that this desperate step reaches is not isolation or self-righteousness, but a return to the boat of the Church, where brothers and sisters are all on board together. By returning to the boat, Peter was re-incorporated into the rich worship of the community.
Therefore, stepping out of the boat and returning to the boat should not be seen as opposing concepts. The challenge of taking risks in obedience to the Word of Christ, and the worship of accepting one's own weakness and returning to the community to worship Christ together, are the powerful heartbeat of a single faith. If one is self-sufficient and disregards the Church, faith turns into self-satisfaction; conversely, if one shuts oneself up in a safe boat and refuses to step out, the Church itself turns into a closed community.
At Sunday Mass, we experience the reality of this 'boat.' Mass is a place of communion where the people of God are in the same boat, listening to the same Word of God, and sharing the same one bread. When we are about to stop rowing alone due to illness or trials, the prayers of the community gently support us, and the sound of hymns and the movements of the liturgy carry our weaknesses. Becoming a Christian means submerging one's isolated ego into the great subject of 'we' and being incorporated as a part of the Body of Christ (cf. Joseph Ratzinger, 'Introduction to Christianity'). Even if the rough waves are too much for one poor person's strength to row through, if we move forward supporting each other in the boat where Christ is present, we can surely continue to advance toward the promised other side of completion. Our individual faith is truly lived out vividly precisely within this boat of the Church.
Faith grows within the history of God's salvation
Beneath the figure of Peter, who desperately reached out his hand in the midst of a violent storm crying, 'Save me!', there existed a soil of deep trust that went beyond a mere momentary emotion. The trust held by the disciples was firmly rooted in the rich soil of the journey of salvation that God had prepared over a long period of time in human history.
While God created and sustains all things through His infinite wisdom and love, He constantly gave witness to Himself to humanity. Furthermore, from the beginning, He revealed Himself to our first parents and invited them into intimate communion (cf. 'Dei Verbum', 3). Even after humanity lost that holy communion through sin, God never abandoned them, but continued to promise salvation (redemption) and keep the hope of salvation alive (cf. 'Dei Verbum', 3). 'Even after man disobeyed and lost your friendship, you did not abandon him to the domain of death,' but God's patient mercy was never once severed, and 'time and again you formed covenants with man' (cf. 'Roman Missal', Eucharistic Prayer IV).
Even after the unity of humanity was miserably shattered by sin, God advanced a magnificent plan to save all nations. The covenant made with Noah shows God's universal will for salvation for all people (cf. Genesis 9:9, 10:5). Even in the darkness of human arrogance and idolatry seen in the Tower of Babel, God carved the image of virtue that follows His covenant into history through the lives of the righteous Abel, Melchizedek who was king and priest, Noah, and Job (cf. Genesis 14:18, Hebrews 7:3, Ezekiel 14:14, John 11:52).
And to gather the scattered humanity together again, God chose Abraham and powerfully called out, 'Go forth from your native land and your father's house to the land that I will show you' (cf. Genesis 12:1). Without even knowing the destination, Abraham believed only in God's promise that 'all the clans of the earth shall find blessing in you,' and left behind his familiar homeland (cf. Genesis 12:3, 17:5, Galatians 3:8). This life-risking departure resonates deeply with Peter's walk, where he stepped onto the water relying only on Jesus' voice saying, 'Come.' The attitude of taking the first step with total trust in God's Word, without any visible guarantees, is the very image of true faith that runs from the Old Testament to the New. The people of Abraham bore the holy role of preparing for the day when all children of God would be gathered into the Church, and later became the firm root into which Gentile believers would be grafted (cf. Romans 11:17-24).
Hearing the groaning of the people who were in a terrible state of slavery in Egypt, God dramatically liberated them and made them His own people. The covenant and the Law given through Moses at Mount Sinai were teachings of love to acknowledge the one true God, to trust and serve His providence, and to await the coming of the promised Savior (cf. Exodus 19:6, Deuteronomy 28:10, 'Dei Verbum', 3). As they are called 'the people who first heard the Word of God,' Israel is the chosen people who first responded to God's call, and they are our elder brothers in faith as Christians (cf. 'Roman Missal', Good Friday, Solemn Intercessions 6).
Every time the people foolishly fell into infidelity to God, God sent prophets time and again to bring their hearts back and nurture a rich hope for a new covenant (cf. Jeremiah 31:31-34, Ezekiel 36). The expectation of salvation proclaimed by the prophets was carefully preserved by the hearts of those who deeply humbled themselves and offered their poverty to God just as it was (cf. Zephaniah 2:3). Pious women of the Bible such as Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Judith, and Esther kept the hope of salvation lit in the darkness. And as the beautiful culmination of this, the Virgin Mary was born, and she accepted the entire plan of God's salvation with all her heart and soul (cf. Luke 1:38).
Therefore, the coming of Jesus did not mean that the precious value of the Old Testament was lost. The books of the Old Testament are the Word of God written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and they continue to hold an eternal, unchanging value (cf. 'Dei Verbum', 14). The economy of the Old Testament prepared for and pointed toward the coming of Christ, and it is filled with sublime teachings, true wisdom for living, and a rich treasury of prayer (cf. 'Dei Verbum', 15). The poignant cries of the Psalms, the burning hope of the prophets, and the event of the 'still, small voice' that Elijah heard resonate powerfully in the hearts of us who live in the darkness of the modern age, becoming a living power that supports our faith (cf. 1 Kings 19).
What the people of Israel deeply realized throughout their long history was the truth that the reason God chose them and continued to forgive them no matter how many times they turned away was not because of their own merits or superiority, but because of God's perfect, gratuitous love (cf. Deuteronomy 4:37, 7:8, Isaiah 43, Hosea 2). The Bible depicts this deep and warm love by comparing it to the compassionate affection of a father (cf. Hosea 11:1), the heart-wrenching deep love of a mother (cf. Isaiah 49:14-15), and the burning passion of a bridegroom (cf. Isaiah 62:4-5). And this love of God finally reached its highest peak in the work of redemption on the Cross, where He gave His only Son to the world (cf. John 3:16).
God's revelation is not merely the transmission of abstract doctrines, but an encounter of love where God Himself enters into the time of history and the reality of human beings, opening an eternal communion with us (cf. Joseph Ratzinger, 'Introduction to Christianity'). When we are baptized, listen to the Word of God at Mass, and partake in the Eucharist, we are not believing with our own isolated hearts. Our lives today are placed at the very forefront of the magnificent history of salvation that has been woven over thousands of years, from Abraham's departure to Moses' crossing of the sea, the prophets' cries, Mary's acceptance, and Jesus' Cross and Resurrection.
Even on lonely nights during the intense trials of daily life when it feels like our prayers do not reach heaven, we do not need to row the boat sadly on our own strength. When we remember this history of salvation at Mass, we can be certain that we are firmly held within the great story of God's love that embraces all of humanity. When we are about to be disappointed by our own weaknesses or wretchedness, let us continue to walk forward, supported by the countless holy people who have been sustained by this love of God, and holding onto the promise that will never be revoked. Our faith is not isolated at all, but is warmly nurtured within the history of salvation that leads straight from Abraham, Israel, the prophets, and Mary, to Christ.
Continuing to walk with Jesus
The Church, living in the new covenant, discovers an inseparable bond with the Jewish people, the people of the old covenant, when it deeply contemplates the mystery of salvation (see Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions, 4). This is because the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable (see The Roman Missal, Good Friday, The Celebration of the Passion of the Lord, Solemn Intercessions 6). As Saint John Paul II affectionately called them 'our elder brothers' (see Saint John Paul II, 'Address at the Synagogue of Rome to the Jewish Community'), the adoption, the covenant, the law, the worship, and the promises are theirs, and according to the flesh, Christ himself was born from their lineage (see Romans 9:4-5). For 'the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable' (Romans 11:29). The people of the Old Testament and the Church are walking together toward the common goal of hope: the glorious coming of Christ at the end of time. One cannot speak of faith while ignoring the journey of salvation that God has woven throughout history. The steps we take amidst the storm are a continuation of the journey of countless predecessors.
When we turn to reflect on our daily lives, we realize how much we are trapped in self-centered thinking. We try to confine God within the framework of our own narrow ideas and conveniences, and we attempt to make God follow our plans and calculations of gain and loss. While we offer thanks and praise when things are going well, the moment we are struck by illness or irrational suffering, we immediately begin to doubt God's existence and love. Behind the poignant question, 'Why does God allow such suffering?', there may actually lie a secret human arrogance that seeks to manipulate God for our own convenience. Like Peter, who began to sink when he saw the raging waves, we too focus only on the desperate situations visible to our eyes, turn our gaze away from the words Christ speaks to us, and sink into the depths of disbelief. What is strongly required of us now is to boldly let go of that self-centered axis of thought, to follow Christ's invitation to 'Come' with our whole being, and to take a step of faith.
The 'other side' we should aim for is not merely worldly success or a comfortable place without any worries. For the individual, it is a way of life based on trust, jumping out of the boat of self-preservation and stepping forward into forgiveness and service in obedience to Christ's love. And for the Church as a whole, it is the completion of the Kingdom of God, where Christ will return at the end of time and the divine order of justice, love, and peace will be fulfilled. This other side is already being wonderfully actualized here and now as a sacrament in the Sunday liturgy, especially in the Eucharist. When we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we are already tasting the abundant graces of the completed Kingdom of God here.
The cry 'Lord, save me!' that Peter squeezed out (see Matthew 14:30) was the most truthful and profound prayer born when all control by his own power had collapsed. This cry has been repeated countless times throughout history and is elevated in the liturgy into a prayer that yearns for the completion of the Kingdom of God. In the Eucharistic celebration, the Church prays, 'Come, Lord Jesus' (see 1 Corinthians 11:26, 16:22; Revelation 22:20), and powerfully responds 'Amen' to the Word of God. 'Amen' is an agreement from the soul that says, 'I entrust my whole being to God's truth and promises.' When we offer our own weaknesses and deep sufferings to the altar in the Eucharist and unite them with the offering of Christ's cross, Jesus' powerful hand will surely lift us up.
Therefore, even when we ourselves are placed in the midst of the despair of serious illness, deep loss, or absurdity, there is no need to be overly flustered or to give up. Even in situations that seem 'impossible' for humans, we believe in Jesus and take a step forward with courage, following His words. That is the faith by which we live. And we already know, through the death and resurrection of Jesus on the cross, that true hope is hidden in the depths of all despair. Let us deeply believe in the path of salvation that led from Jesus' death to his resurrection, and with strong trust in the hope of God that lies beyond despair, let us continue to walk this irreplaceable day with Jesus, with deep courage and hope.