Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A (2026) - Fr James Baxter, OP

If you have ever read through the First Book of Kings, the passage we have for our first reading this Sunday certainly would have stood out.  It is a book about the lives of the kings of Israel and Judah.  They are born, they go to war, often they are killed. There are lots of stories and characters, and those stories and character are not always edifying.

This short passage is different. It is the story of Elijah on Horeb, the mountain of God, when the prophet encounters God in the gentle breeze, having endured the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, none of which bore the presence of God.  It has become a well-known and well-mined passage in Christian spirituality, for its metaphorical rather than metaphysical application.

People who seek to be attentive to God will have occasions (possibly daily) when they are in a like situation to Elijah’s, and must disregard whatever the wind, earthquake, or fire is for them, listening instead for the voice of God.  This is not just a case of quieting the mind.  It might certainly be a good discipline to try to be focused and rid the mind of useless thoughts.  But Christian faith is not ultimately self-referential. It is always about God’s presence – not just me and my thoughts, but me in relationship with God.

Our passage this Sunday ends with Elijah standing at the entrance of the cave. What happens then?  He hears a still, small voice, which says to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”  He doesn’t really answer the question, but he does say what is on his mind.  He talks about his zeal for God, the infidelity of the people of Israel, and the threats upon his life.  Even though the text is not explicit, it is reasonable to suppose that Elijah is discouraged, even to the point of crisis, and he has come to the cave to hide away from what he has to face. But this is precisely the moment when his life as a prophet enters a new phase, and he leaves the cave with a new mission and the knowledge that he is not alone among the faithful of Israel.

One of the many reasons why people experience either a conversion or a deepening of their faith after a crisis of some sort is that this is the first time when they’ve actually asked themselves, “What are you doing here?”  Many questions can go along with that one: Is there a purpose to life?  Have I found it so far?  What should I be seeking? Are there other places to be looking?

It is no coincidence that Jesus begins his public life with a question like these. In the Gospel of John his first words to the disciples are, “What do you seek?” (Jn 1:38).  At first the disciples just want to know where Jesus is staying.  But as they get to know him in the Gospel it becomes clear that he is one is the one who is the fulfillment of all desire, of all that we ultimately seek. He is the one who has the words of everlasting life, who brings us life to the full, and who makes our joy complete.

In our Gospel reading for this Sunday, the disciples are in a similar situation to Elijah, besieged by the elements.  When Jesus invites Peter to step out onto the water, there is an unspoken question that is put to him and to us – is this possible?  Is there a higher way of living that takes me beyond this material world with the elements and the laws of nature that I see around me?

Peter’s answer is first yes, and so like Jesus, he walks on the water. Then it is no, and so he sinks.  Yet another question follows: “Peter, why did you doubt?” We’re not told the answer. But the evangelist Matthew says that Peter began to sink when he felt the force of the wind. Not when he saw Jesus, but when he felt the wind.

Like Peter, we may have sunk in the spiritual life when we give our attention to anything than our Lord: what we are afraid of, what we can’t understand, some harsh words, a scandal, a disappointment, violent temptations. In those moments the wind can seem more powerful than the one who is the Lord of nature.  But the Lord of the sea and the air is the same Lord who is our personal Lord.  He has not lost his power to calm the wind and waves.  And if we have imitated Peter in his sinking, we can imitate him in his prayer for help: “Lord, save me!”

Fr James Baxter, OP is the Parish Priest of Broadway, Glebe, and Pyrmont, New South Wales.