Thoughts on Miracles: II

Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19, Year A)
Preached at St Matthias’ Bellwoods, 10 August 2008

Last week we heard the miracle of the loaves and fishes; we have just heard how in the small hours of a stormy night, Jesus walked on the Sea of Galilee many furlongs out from land to his disciples in a boat, and bade St Peter walk on the water as well, and saved him when he lost faith, and how when Jesus got into the boat, the storm ceased. Thus there are three miracles at least in this story, not just one. Last week’s gospel brought us to consider that there is no way around the miraculous element in the Gospel, but because this is an important matter, we will continue to think of it today. In fact to is going to take us at least into next week.
The events in these gospel readings truly fit the definition of “miracle” given by St Thomas Aquinas, quoting St Augustine:

A miracle is described as something difficult and unusual, surpassing the capabilities of nature and the expectations of those who wonder at it.[1]

We should note the words for what we call “miracles” that are used in the New Testament. The first is τέρατα, ‘wonders’ or ‘prodigies’; in this word the astonishment of the beholders is applied to the deed itself. This word is the closest to our word “miracle” which comes from the Latin mirari, to be astonished. It is never used alone, but always with one of the other words, as “signs and wonders”; which brings us to the second word, σημεια, ‘signs’. Σημεια is used in all the gospels, but particularly in John, where it is the ordinary term for miracle as a sign pointing to Christ’s glory, or the presence of God in him.[2] What matters here is not the wonder produced in the beholder, but in the meaning of the act. The third word is δυνμαεις ‘powers’ or ‘works of power’ we find this word at Matthew 7.22, Mt 11.20, Mk 6.14, Ll 10.13. These three words describe the same works under different aspects than three different classes of works. The most important of them is σημεια, ‘signs’, for the most important thing about a miracle is that they point us to belief in God. Now although all miracles are signs, a sign is not necessarily a miracle. Common events may be signs that authenticate some word or announcement. Thus, the Angel said to the shepherds that the sign of the good news would be their finding a Child wrapt in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. There are many such signs in the Old Testament.[3]
That said, we can return to the definition. If a miracle is something which “surpasses the capabilities of nature” it is obvious that the whole question of whether we believe that God works miracles depends on what we mean by nature.
First, however, it is important to remember that “nature” is not a thing—just as the world is not a thing—the word nature originally meant “birth”, it is from the same root as “native”; it came to mean a quality or character, and rerum natura meant the nature of things, the order or course of the world. Now over the centuries, human beings have observed that in the world there is a regular and uniform activity, which regular activities are given the name laws of nature. Unless uniform and regular rules are assumed, as C. B. Moss put it, “we could never be sure that the sun would not rise in the west or that a hen’s egg would not produce a crocodile, natural science and indeed human life would be impossible.” However, the records of scripture and history include events which could not be explained by any natural cause. It is sometimes naively said that that is because people in past ages did not know of or believe in the uniformity of nature. But if this is so, there would be no reason to speak of wonders, prodigies or works of power. Unless people knew the ordinary way in which children are begotten, there would be nothing surprising in a virgin conceiving without the aid of human father. It is fair to clarify the definition: a miracle is an occurrence which surpasses the capabilities that are known of nature. The New Testament scholar Reginald Fuller said that

This formula is attractive for both its scientific and theological humility. It admits that we don’t know everything yet, that our scientific knowledge … is still limited. But it is also prepared to surrender belief in a particular miracle, if it should turn out to be a natural occurrence after all. And on this definition the day may come when we shall know so much about nature that there will be no place for a miracle after all.[4]

That is a sensible statement. People have learned that some wonders have causes within nature; one might think of solar and lunar eclipses, for example, or rainbows. It is much harder to see how we can ever know enough to do away with the resurrection or the virgin birth. You will notice, I hope, that Fuller does not define “nature”. Moss points out that

The word "nature" can be used in three different senses: (a) It may mean "all that exists". Spinoza … uses it in this sense. Nothing can be "beyond nature" if this is what we mean by nature. (b) It may mean "all created things". St. Thomas Aquinas uses it in this sense, for he is careful to say "created nature". (c) It may mean "all material things", as when we say "natural science". This is the usual modern sense.

Now which of these senses we mean is not decided by scientific experimentation; it is a philosophical question. If you say that only such things as can be measured have reality, you have excluded the possibility of a miracle before the question is raised, and will have to reject or explain away any accounts of miracles. We will return to this question next week. Now we need to consider a fourth word from the New Testament. The miracles of Christ are often called έργα, ‘works’ i.e., such works as might be expected of the God-man, and which reveal his Person. It is almost as if they come forth by necessity. Archbishop Trench wrote.

They are the periphery of that circle whereof he is the centre. The great miracle is the Incarnation; all else, so to speak, follows naturally and of course. It is of no wonder that He whose name is wonderful’ (Isa 9.6) does works of wonder; the only wonder would be if he did them not

The miracle of walking on the sea is such a work, and a work of power, and we must turn to it before we use up the little time we have. This miracle is unlike the miracles of healing and mercy; and we might ask why God should overrule nature in this way. Taken as a work of power, this miracle declares the power of Christ over the sea. This points us back to very ancient beliefs in the Old Testament that God in creation was victorious over the sea, a symbol of chaos and evil.[5] For Jesus to walk on the sea is for the power of God in him to be manifest. On a symbolic level, it is a miracle of teaching: by it Jesus teaches his disciples to trust in him, that he is with them and will help them even when it seems least likely, and that nothing can come between them and his love. It is a preparation for their mission in the world, which is our mission. Notice that he has gone up the mountain to pray; while he has sent disciples out onto the sea. Just so, he will send the disciples out into the stormy world, and himself ascend into heaven. But in heaven he is with his Church, in heaven he ever intercedes for it and watches over it But there I am past my time and we will have to turn to Peter and his faith another time. If it is manageable I will produce further notes on this passage. Next week we will think further about miracles.

Notes

[1] Miraculum dicitur aliquid arduum et insolitum supra facultatem natura et spem admirantes praeveniens. ST 1a Q 105 7.2, quoting Augustine De utilitate credendi 16 (Miraculum voco quidquid arduum et insolitum supre speam vel facultatem mirantis apparet.
[2] We find this meaning in Deuteronomy 13: “If a prophet arises among you, or a dreamer of dreams, and gives you a sign or wonder, and the sign or wonder comes to pass, and if he says, Let us go after other gods, which you have not known, and let uis serve them, you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams”
[3] Luke 2.12; Exodus 3.12; 1 Sam 2.34; 10. 1-9; Jer 44.29-30; Jgs 7.9-15; 2 Kgs 7.2, 17-20)
[4] Interpreting the Miracles (1961), p. 8

[5] One thinks also of the miracle of the Red Sea in Exodus 14, which also took place in the morning watch. Job 9.8: [God] alone stretched out the heavens, and trampled the waves of the sea; Psalm 64.12-17: Yet God is King from of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth. Thus didst divide the sea by thy might; thou didst break the heads of the dragons on the waters. Thou didst crush the heads of Leviathan, and didst give him as food for the creatures of the wilderness; Psalm 77.19; Psalm 89.9-10: Thou dost rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, thou stillest them. Thou didst crush Rahab like a carcass, thou didst scatter thy enemies with thy mighty arm; Isaiah 43.16: Thus says the Lord , who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters. (Rahab and Leviathan are names of a sea-monster and personify the restless power of the sea.)

Thoughts on Miracles: I

Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost,
Preached at St Mathias Bellwoods, Toronto
3 August AD 2008

There was once a parish priest who was preaching to his parishioners and said that our Lord fed five hundred persons with five loaves. When the parish clerk heard him say this, he stood up and whispered softly in his ear: “But Sir, you’re mistaken; the gospel says five thousand.” “Hold your peace, you fool,” said the preacher; “they will scarcely believe that they were five hundred.”

Not much of a joke, I suppose, even with the language updated a bit. And really, five hundred or five thousand makes little difference; both are difficult to believe or imagine. This may be why this miracle sometimes gets explained away, and we are told something like this. When Jesus made all the people sit on the grass, they saw that he was taking all the food that he and disciples had, and were moved to take food they had and share it, and so all were fed. The true miracle was a miracle of sharing and generosity, for such virtues are always miracles. I suppose that is a good lesson, but ever since I first heard in Sunday School, I’ve been suspicious. Surely if that’s the lesson the Gospel writer (and the Holy Spirit) wants us to learn from this passage, the text might say something like, “and the people began to share the food they had and all were filled.” I must admit that this explanation is not without support. The Revised Common Lectionary Commentary website from the diocese of Montreal notes that “A peasant in Palestine, then and now, travelled with food”. We will consider that point in a moment. What we must do first is read the passage a little more closely. Some of the finer details are in the lectionary notes on my blog.
Over the past few weeks the Gospel readings have been taken from Matthew 13, which is a chapter of parables taught by the sea, but the last six verses and the opening section of chapter 14 are not read in the Sunday lectionary. At the end of Matthew 13, Jesus returned to his Nazareth, where he taught in the synagogue; the people were astonished by his teaching, because he was a local boy, and took offence at him. Jesus utters the words, A prophet is not without honour except in his own country and in his own house, and is not able to do many miracles there, because of their unbelief.
Chapter 14 begins with the report of Herod Antipas asking who this Jesus was, and declaring his own conviction that Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead. Then the Gospel writer tells how Herod had ordered the Baptist’s execution, because he preached against Herod’s unlawful marriage. The first words of the passage we heard refer to John’s death: Now when Jesus heard this. John’s death moved Jesus greatly; here, perhaps he saw what the call of God could, and would mean. We are not allowed into Jesus’ private thoughts here, beyond the notice that he withdrew from there, Nazareth, in a boat to a lonely place apart.
When they heard this people followed him on foot from the towns. This is where we have to consider the comment that peasants “travelled with food”. If it is nit-picking to ask whether these townsfolk were peasants, it is reasonable to ask whether going out to hear a preacher in the countryside is travelling. Tabgha, traditionally said to be the site of this miracle, is only 2.5 km from Capernaum and about the same distance from Chorazin. Rather than thinking of people preparing for a journey, we should imagine people going out rather suddenly, so that they find themselves away rather longer than expected and so caught without food. Some may have had food and other may not. This has to be left up to your judgement of human nature, but I believe it is the natural interpretation of the text.
When Jesus landed on the north-west shore of Galilee, and saw the throng, he had compassion on them, and healed their sick, and that they were there till evening, when the disciples suggested that he send the crowd away to get food. St John Chrysostom noted that Jesus waited to be asked, as always not stepping forward first to do miracles, but when called upon. In passing we may take this as a reminder that God wants us to pray. Like us the disciples are weak in faith, they say This is a deserted place, which calls to mind the complaint of the people in the wilderness, They spoke against God saying, Can God prepare a table in the wilderness? He smote the rock so that water gushed out and streams overflowed. Can he also give bread, or provide meat for his people? One of the important lessons of this miracle is that God can and does supply his people’s needs even in the wilderness.
When the Lord replies, they need not go away, we might expect him to say, I will give them food. But he says, you give them something to eat, to which they reply, We have only five loaves here and two fish; essentially, we do not have enough. Two points emerge from this: the first is that Christ gives the authority and ministry of service to his disciples, so that this miracle is one of the foundations of the apostolic ministry; but the second is that all their, all our, resources are nothing unless first offered to God in Christ. We cannot discuss in detail Christ’s actions on receiving the bread and fish, except to note that they are described in exactly the same terms as his actions in taking the bread at the Last Supper, showing that this miracle is a foreshadowing of the Eucharist. Indeed, the eucharistic teaching of John’s Gospel is entirely centred around thios miracle, a fact which should remove any doubt. What we must stress is that there is not the slightest hint that this is a “miracle of sharing”. There is no earlier version we can look to to show that the miraculous element was added later, no evidence of such a story underlying the Gospel accounts except what we might read into it if we start off disbelieving in miracles.
So the question we will end with is the one really should have asked at the beginning. How do we start off? If we reject the possibility of miracles out of hand, then we will never accept the Gospels without making them say what we want and not what they say, that is, by doing violence to them. Nonetheless, stories of miracles have been a stumbling block to the faith of many in our day, and we need to consider them very carefully. But that is a good place to stop for this morning, because it opens up the question of whether we can believe in miracles or have to turn the story into something else. Since next week’s Gospel reading is also a miracle story, the account of our Lord walking on the sea, I will return to this theme of miracles next week.