A man was stranded on his roof, trying to escape the rising flood. He desperately prayed, “God save me.”
A few minutes later, a boat pulled alongside. The boatman offered the man a ride to safety. He refused, “God will save me.”
As the waters continued to rise, he prayed again, “God, please save me.”
A bit later, another boat pulled up, and this boatman offered another ride to safety. Again, he refused, “God will save me.”
The waters continued to rise, and again he prayed, “God, please save me.”
This time, a helicopter arrived, and the crew offered him a ride to safety. Again, he refused, “God will save me.”
As the waters left only the tip of the roof for him to stand on, he prayed again, “God, please save me.”
And just then, the heavens opened up, and a voice from heaven proclaimed, “I’ve already sent two boats and a helicopter! What more do you want?”
In this familiar story, the man on the roof seems a lot like us at times. We have a little faith in God, but we reject the help that God provides. We want the glowing hand to come down from heaven and smack around those who vex us. That’s especially true in our contemporary culture, which values independence over relationships.
We recite—and live out—the mantras, “I forge my own destiny, I am the master of my domain, I am the captain of my ship.” In doing so, we reject God’s help every day, since it comes in the form of the simple things that people do to help each other.
We are unable, or unwilling, to see that God is manifest in humanity, striving together for common good.
God is a great deal more subtle than that. When God wants something done, we feel the call to action. That call can be toward the start of a long journey, or it can be a single step. That call can be toward a lifelong vocation, or it can be a single action to help the person next to us.
This world is a suffering world, and there are enough small things for us to do, just as there is enough suffering for us to have our share. Jesus’ call was to a suffer for humanity, to be stripped, beaten, mocked, and finally crucified. This was the will of the Father, that Jesus suffer for the sake of humanity.
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples exactly what he must do. He is to suffer and die, and on the third day rise again.
When Peter rebukes him, Jesus tells him that he has put his mind on human things, when it should be on the divine. Jesus’ suffering is the will of God, but Peter wants Jesus to turn away from that call. He understands only the status quo, and not the salvation that Jesus has been called to bring through his own suffering. Peter essentially tells Jesus that he should ignore the divine call and obey his own human call.
Jesus’ response seems harsh: “Get behind me, Satan!”
But Peter’s call to Jesus is the temptation of sin that has plagued humanity. It is the temptation that the human will can overcome the divine will. It is the temptation that we can do what we want, and ignoring what God wants, without consequence.
But, as with of the man on the roof, God answers our prayers in the way God wants, and not necessarily in the way we might want. Just because God doesn’t send twelve legions of angels to our defense doesn’t mean God doesn’t love us. And it doesn’t mean God won’t help us. It means God is more subtle than that, and that God acts through the everyday actions of people—just like you and me—whom God has called to help the person next to us, and to commit our lives to God.
That’s what Jesus teaches his disciples after he rebukes Peter. “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it. But whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Through his words to Peter, Jesus reiterates his call to us, down through the ages, to remember that God comes first.
When we try to save our lives, we tend to put ourselves first, at the expense of everyone else. We keep those human things at the front of our mind, and our spirituality, our relationship with God, becomes little more than a lifestyle accessory.
We become more like the man on the roof, who thinks that God will reach down with a giant glowing hand and move him to a safe place. We become more like the man on the roof, who, though desperate, still thinks of God as being at his beck and call.
Instead, we ought to follow Jesus’ teaching, not to throw our lives away, but to give ourselves—body, mind, and soul—to the service of others.
In this way, we become less like the man on the roof, and more like those in the helicopter, who have given of themselves, and are saved from the flood.
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