RECOGNISING GOD IN THE SILENCE

Homily for the Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Fr. Ugochukwu Ugwoke, ISch

1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13; Romans 9:1-5; Matthew 14:22-33

There are moments in life when we desperately want God to speak. We pray for an answer, wait for a sign, and sometimes become frustrated because heaven seems silent. Yet today’s readings remind us that God is present even when His presence is not dramatic or obvious.

The first reading takes us to Mount Horeb, where Elijah is hiding in a cave. He has experienced rejection, persecution, and discouragement. God tells him, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” Then comes a powerful wind, an earthquake, and a fire. But the Lord is not in any of them. After the fire comes “a sound of sheer silence.” And that is where Elijah encounters God.

How easily we expect God to come through the spectacular. We want dramatic miracles and prayer sessions, unmistakable signs, and immediate answers. But the God of the Bible often speaks in ways that require us to become still enough to listen. The silence of God is not necessarily the absence of God.

The Gospel gives us another stormy scene. After feeding the multitude, Jesus sends His disciples ahead in the boat while He goes up the mountain alone to pray. During the night, the boat is battered by the waves because the wind is against them. Notice something important: the disciples are in the storm precisely where Jesus sent them. Their difficulty does not mean they have stepped outside God’s will. Sometimes we assume that if we are faithful, life should become easier. But Scripture never makes such a promise. There are storms that come not because we or our forefathers have done something wrong, but simply because we are human.

Then, in the middle of the night, Jesus comes walking on the sea. The disciples are terrified and cry out, thinking they are seeing a ghost. Jesus immediately reassures them: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” The Greek expression egō eimi – “I am” - is significant. It remind us of the divine name revealed to Moses. Jesus is not merely saying, “It is me.” He is revealing that the God who spoke from the burning bush is present in the midst of their storm.

Peter then does something extraordinary. He asks Jesus to command him to come onto the water. He steps out of the boat and begins walking toward Christ. For a moment, Peter does the impossible. But then he notices the wind. His attention shifts from Jesus to the storm, and he begins to sink. His problem was not that the storm became stronger; it was that his gaze moved away from Christ.

How often this happens to us. We begin with faith, but then we start looking at the size of the problem, the diagnosis, the bills, the uncertainty, the opposition, and the future. Fear becomes greater than faith. Peter’s prayer is one of the shortest and most honest prayers in Scripture: “Lord, save me!” And immediately, Jesus reaches out His hand. That is the Gospel we need today. We may not always understand God’s silence. We may not always be spared the storm. But Christ is never absent from the boat.

As we come to the Eucharist, let us bring Him our fears and uncertainties. May we learn, like Elijah, to recognise God in the quiet, and like Peter, to keep our eyes fixed on Christ when the winds begin to blow. The storm may be real, but so is the presence of Jesus. And when we are sinking, His hand is already reaching for us.