Getting Ready to Take the Leap Toward Greater Faith, 19th Sunday (A), August 9, 2026

Msgr. Roger J. Landry
Convent of the Missionaries of Charity, Bronx, NY
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A
1 Kings 19:9.11-13, Ps 85, Rom 9:1-5, Mt 14:22-33
August 9, 2026

To listen to an audio recording of today’s homily, please click below: 

The following text guided the homily: 

• God’s love for us is often expressed in surprising and very challenging ways. In the first reading, we see how the Lord came to the Prophet Elijah on Mount Horeb. For the previous 40 days and 40 nights, Elijah had been fleeing for his life across the desert, escaping from the murderous intentions of Queen Jezebel, who had sworn an oath to see him executed. At the end of the journey, taking refuge in a cave from the brutal heat, Elijah complained to God. “I have been most zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts, but the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to the sword. I alone am left, and they seek to take my life.” He thought working for the Lord should have brought him blessings but instead it seemed like he had only encountered hardship and persecution. God told him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the Lord; the Lord will be passing by.” God was going to give him a manifestation of his presence to strengthen him. God began with the three theophanies he had used with Moses on the top of the same mountain, which was also called Mount Sinai. A ferocious storm came, something that would have been an obvious exhibition of the Creator’s power over nature, but God wasn’t revealing himself in the tempest. Then there was an earthquake, perhaps an even more impressive display from the One who had created the foundations of the earth, but God wasn’t there either. Third, there was a big fire, which would have been a fitting sign of God’s presence a month and a half after God had shown his power by coming in a fire to consume Elijah’s drenched sacrifice in his showdown with the priests of Ba’al near Mount Carmel. But God didn’t reveal himself that way either. He came in a tiny whispering sound, like a gentle breeze flowing through the leaves of a tree.
• God revealed himself to Elijah, therefore, not in a huge spectacle or massive display of force as Elijah might have expected, but rather in a very quiet way, to show that he’s with us, passing by us, speaking to us, through ordinary, daily, humble occurrences rather than mainly or exclusively through extraordinary demonstrations of power and might. The lesson is that God doesn’t come always how we expect him to, or when we expect him to. He comes as he wants and as he knows we need. We see this obviously in how he entered the world, being born not in a royal palace but in a poor stable. We see it in how he triumphed, not amid jubilant fanfare but among jeers dying ignominiously on the Cross. We see it, too, in how he helps the apostles grow in faith and trust in today’s Gospel. He gave them a startling crash course in Christian trust that is far more surprising, even more jolting, than anything he did with the Prophet Elijah. What the Lord did with the apostles, and especially St. Peter, to help them confront and overcome their primal fears and transition from fear to faith helps us to see how he often deals with us in order lovingly to help us grow in faith and trust as we confront our fears of failure, abandonment, struggle, sickness, pain, the past, the future, death, the possibility of hell and anything and everything else, too. Let’s enter into the drama of the scene, the main elements of which highlight key aspects of the loving trust and total surrender that are part of the spirit of the Missionaries of Charity and that are supposed to be repeated in one way or another in the life of every disciple.
• In the scene right before today’s Gospel, the multiplication of the five loaves and two fish, Jesus had had everyone sit down on the green grass, so we know that it must have taken place between mid-March to mid-April in the Holy Land, because the grass begins to get sun-scorched by the end of April. At that time of year sunset happens in Galilee about 6 pm, which is the time, therefore, the apostles got into the boat to begin the journey across the top of the Sea of Galilee for a five-to-six-mile journey that should have taken a few hours. The storm began to rage, St. Matthew tells us, when they were in the middle of the Sea, so about an hour or two along their trek. Jesus came to them in the “fourth watch of the night” — the period stretching from 3-6 am — which meant that by that point, they had been in the boat 9-12 hours, battling a ferocious storm, fatigued, soaking wet and fearing for their life. Jesus was placidly praying on the mountain as they were struggling for hours not to drown to death. Why did Jesus — who probably could hear and see them from his prayerful promontory on the mountain — wait so long when his friends believed they were in peril? It brings us back to the other time that the apostles were afraid for their life on the Sea of Galilee, as Jesus was asleep in the bow of the boat while they thought they were about to perish. In both cases, Jesus waited to act — and the reason was to increase their faith. Jesus was introducing them to a central truth of the spiritual life: that in order to be able to abandon ourselves to God, we must first feel what appears to be total abandonment by God. I want to repeat that sentence because it’s so counterintuitive and crucial for us to grasp: in order to be able to surrender ourselves to God with loving trust, we must first feel what appears to be total abandonment by It’s only then, when all human means have been exhausted, when even God seems to be absent, when we’re not even sure that he cares, that we’re able to make the supernatural leap of faith to believe in him and in his providential concern and love.
• One of the clearest illustrations of this truth happens in the life of prayer. When a Catholic finally makes the commitment to serious prayer every day, like a half-hour meditation or a Eucharistic holy hour, the Lord normally floods us with graces. We basically love to pray. We feel strengthened and full of peace and joy. And that continues for a while. But eventually, out of love for us, God takes away all the consolations and even the sense of his presence. We begin to feel nothing, like happened in the darkness St. Teresa of Calcutta experienced over the last fifty years of her life. This is all a grace to help us to make a transition of faith from coming to pray for the consolations of God to coming to pray for the God of consolations, seeking Him solely for the purpose of being with Him whom we know in faith is present even when we sense nothing. We really can’t take a quantum leap in the progression of faith God wants to give us in prayer unless we continue believing and praying even when we feel we’re amid a dark cloud.
• Let’s return to the scene. After hours of struggling for their life, Jesus comes walking along the white caps of the churning sea. Their first reaction was to think they were seeing a ghost — after all, no one had ever seen a man walk on water before, not to mention “surfing” the waves without a surfboard. There was also a superstition that there were monsters at the bottom of the Sea of Galilee and likely that played into their alarm. Jesus, however, said to them across the howling winds, “Take courage! I am! Do not be afraid!” Jesus used those words, “Ego eimi” in Greek, “I am,” which were those God employed to describe himself to Moses from the burning bush, and Jesus used when he told the Pharisees, “Before Abraham was, ‘I am.’” In the context of the apostles’ anxieties during the storm, they were an expression of divine accompaniment, meant to help assuage their fears and give them courage. We see the first fruit of those words in Peter. “Lord, if it is you,” he said, “bid me to come to you across the water.” He refers to the supposedly walking “ghost” as “Lord,” but then he qualifies it by saying, “if it is you.” He was hovering between belief and incredulity. But at the word of Jesus, “Come!,” he did what he had precisely been trying to avoid over the previous 9-12 hours: with great faith in Jesus and his word, with loving trust and total surrender, he went overboard. The time fearing for his life had made him that much more desirous of being with the Lord Jesus. He wanted to get to him as soon as he possibly could. The whole scene in some way summarizes the mystery of the Incarnation: as Jesus comes into our stormy world walking toward us, we’re all called to get up from where we are, to overcome our fears and insecurities, and head out to meet him. That’s what Peter did and what God wants us to do.
• Lifted temporarily by faith, Peter’s density in some sense changed. He was lighter than water and capable of walking above it. Then something happened. St. Matthew tells us that Peter “took account of the winds.” He took his eyes off Jesus. He began to focus on the human impossibility of what he and Jesus were both doing; then the negative buoyancy or downward force of gravity, corresponding to the downward glance of his heart, overwhelmed him. He began to sink amid the waves. Though an expert on that sea and a good swimmer (as we see in John 21 when he jumped into the Sea of Galilee and swam one hundred yards to meet Risen Jesus on the shore), Peter began to fear for his life. The words from Psalm 69 perhaps began to take on new meaning for him: “Do not let me sink. Rescue me from … the watery depths. Do not let the floodwaters overwhelm me, nor the deep swallow me.” In response to Peter’s cry for help, the Lord reached out to save him. The Greek word is that Jesus “gripped” Peter in his arms. The storm was still raging. The winds were still blowing. The waves were still swirling all around and the Sea was still 140 feet deep. But Peter was safe. Jesus had saved him in his grip of love.
• It’s so important for all of us to have the experience of faith Peter did. We call Jesus Savior not simply out of piety or because it’s a nice title to bestow upon him. We call him Savior because he has in fact rescued us from the depths of sin just like he rescued the prophet Jonah and here Simon son of Jonah from the depth of water. It was crucial for Peter to have had this experience of fear and abandonment to appreciate even more the Lord’s loving care. Likewise for us, it’s important sometimes to have been in very difficult circumstances for us to experience God’s saving interventions. Many have told me over the years that they took God for granted until they got cancer and needed his help, until they were lost and needed to get back on right track, until they had hit rock bottom and recognized that the only One whom they could still rely on was God. Even though none of those difficult experiences would be labeled good or fun, they turned out to be profound graces, just like the ferocious storm on the Galilean Sea proved to be for the apostles.
• Today, August 9, the Church remembers St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, the Jewish convert Edith Stein, who was martyred 84 years ago today in Auschwitz. The summit of her theology, in my opinion, are her thoughts in her famous Science of the Cross on uniting ourselves to the crucified Christ. That’s what she did when she was arrested in the Netherlands because of her Jewish blood, going with her sister Rosa to die for her people, for whose salvation, like St. Paul in today’s second reading, she was willing to give her life. That’s what she urged all of us to do. For her abandonment wasn’t just resignation to God’s will, but actively placing our will, our lives, our all in the loving hands of God. With trust she echoed St. Peter’s words to Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life,” and she trusted in him until the end. We ask her intercession today to do the same.
• The words Jesus said to Peter as he gripped him are highly significant. “O you of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” The verb translated “to doubt” here really means in St. Matthew’s Greek “to be of two minds.” Peter was divided. Part of him believed, but part of him doubted. Part of him trusted in Jesus enough to go overboard in faith, while part of him attributed more power to the wind and the waves. In order to live by faith, however, to imitate Jesus and Mary in loving trust and total surrender, we can’t really “half-trust” in God. That’s what this whole crash course of faith on the Sea of Galilee was meant to train Peter and the apostles to grasp. Peter would be of two minds elsewhere as well. He would confess Jesus to be the Messiah and Son of God but then would forbid him to suffer in fulfilling his mission. He would swear during the Last Supper that he would never betray the Lord even if he should have to die for him, but then he would swear an oath denying him three times in the high priest’s courtyard. The Lord was trying to help him to become of one mind. This is an important lesson for us to grasp, because many are tempted to be “of two minds” in our living the faith as well. Some hear Jesus’ words about storing up a treasure in heaven, about selling all they have to obtain the pearl of great price, and they partially act on them, but they still hold on tightly with the other hand to our mammon as an insurance policy in case Christianity turns out to be fools’ gold. Others hear Jesus’ words about the need to forgive others 70 x 7 times, about turning the other cheek, about praying for our persecutors, and part of us knows that this is the path to peace, but the other part wants to strike back and knock the person’s whole set of teeth if he’s loosened one of ours. Others hear Jesus’ call to acknowledge him before others, to bring the Gospel to all creatures and everyone they know, but they hesitate to do so because they’re eaten alive by worries that doing so may get them labeled and teased and maybe even lead to losing friends or jobs. Peter’s experience on the Sea, as difficult as it was, helped him to confront and overcome his spiritual schizophrenia. The Lord allows us to experience various storms, too, in order to help us get over our own and to convert to him with our whole mind — and soul, heart and strength as well.
• The last part of this scene takes place when Jesus — still gripping and carrying the grown man Peter as if we were a small child across the waves — enters the boat. It’s only when Peter and Jesus are back in Peter’s boat that the storm dies down. We learn a valuable lesson: that storms often die down only when we return to the Church symbolized by Peter’s barque. And it’s to that boat of the Church that Jesus, gripping us, wants to lead us. The Church is a life raft founded by Jesus, a fulfillment of Noah’s Ark, as several fathers of the Church emphasized. When Peter returned to the boat, he and the other apostles, St. Matthew tells us, fell down and worshipped Jesus as they called him not just the Messiah but “The Son of God.” The culmination of the whole experience led them to faith understood not as a cold belief in a set of truths but a trust in Jesus as someone having power over the wind and the waves. It led them to an act of worship, which is a combination of love and prayerful faith-in-action. Likewise, as Jesus seeks to grip us and bring us to Church, when we recognize all that he’s done for us, we, like the first apostles, can’t help but fall down to adore him. Just like with the apostles, Jesus has created us not to drown in fears and anxieties, but to live by faith, to immerse ourselves in the depths of his love, to adore him on land and on sea, to be strengthened by him in trust and abandonment and to know that we’ve got nothing to fear because he is with us, even if we’re in the midst of ferocious storms.
• The same Lord Jesus who walked on water to save and strengthen the faith of his beloved apostles comes to meet us here at Mass. He wants us not to stay where we are but jump overboard with trust to go meet him. Like those in the boat on the sea, we here will soon drop to our knees and adore Jesus as the Son of God, asking for the grace to keep our eyes always on him, begging him for his help to be of one mind and heart with him, and imploring his assistance to remember that no matter what tempests we’re experiencing, he’s with us, trying to grip and save us, and help us grow in faithful union. As we prepare to behold him not looking like a “ghost” but under the humble appearances of bread and wine, as he’s lifted heavenward after the consecration, he wants each of us to hear him whispering, “Be not afraid! It is I! Be strong!” Like the apostles in the boat, we will bow down in adoration before him in gratitude and say in prayerful unison: “Save us, Savior of the World, for by your Cross and Resurrection, you have set us free!” Jesus will grip us from the inside as we receive him so that his courage may fortify us from within to overcome all our fears, both primal and personal, and hop overboard with him to go in search of others who are trying to face the storms of without him. God tells us today not to go outside and stand on a mountain for the Lord to pass by, but to stay inside for the same Lord not just to pass but to enter. And as he speaks to us he does so not in the gentle whisper of a soft breeze rustling through leaves, but in the hushed words of consecration, saying, “This is my body given for you!,” a manifestation far, far greater than hurricanes, earthquakes and forest fires, one that daily helps us to live our whole life as Mary and Jesus did, as St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross and St. Teresa of Calcutta did, with more loving trust, greater total surrender, and sustained joy. Let’s get ready to jump!

The readings for today’s Mass were: 

Podcast: Play in new window | Download