A Homily for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

+ Domine, salva nos, perimus! “Save, Lord; we are perishing!”
 
How often since that storm on the sea that is recounted in the Gospel of this Holy Mass have Christians cried out “Domine, salve nos, perimus!” collectively or individually? How often in the history of the Church has it seemed—as it does at times today—that the Lord sleeps whilst His Church is attacked on all sides from without and is ravaged by strife within? How frequently do we feel ourselves to be helpless, to have used up all our energy and good will, and to be in grave risk of perishing because the Lord sleeps and simply does not act on our behalf. We try to be faithful, to conquer vice and to grow in virtue, but we seem to make no progress. The danger persists. The Lord sleeps whilst we rightly fear perishing.
 
It may be of some comfort to know that this is no new phenomenon. Israel cries out to the Lord in Psalm 43: “Exsurge, quare obdormis Domine?” “Rouse thyself! Why sleepest thou, O Lord? Awake! Do not cast us off for ever! Why dost thou hide thy face? Why dost thou forget our affliction and oppression? For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our body cleaves to the ground. Rise up, come to our help! Deliver us for the sake of thy steadfast love!” (23-26)
 
Weekly, whilst the world sleeps, we monks repeat this cry at Matins early on Monday morning—fulfilling our duty of reminding the Lord to wake up and to get to work on time, as it were. So too, the Church sings these words as she prepares for the great fast of Lent—as shall we in two weeks’ time—in the Introit of the Mass of Sexagesima. For very good reasons the disciples in the boat, the People of Israel, the Church of God in her Divine Office and in the Mass, and we as individuals, all cry out: Save us Lord! Do not sleep! We are in danger!
 
The answer to our cry, to our anguished prayer is given to us by Our Blessed Lord in the Gospel of this Holy Mass by way of the rebuke (almost of someone at least a little irascible at having been woken up too early) addressed to us in this morning’s Holy Gospel: “Why are you afraid, O men of little faith?”
 
In response we can, of course, list several real, important and urgent reasons why we are afraid: from fear of sin or suffering or death or eternal condemnation, etc. The storms that threaten us frequently arise without warning, and some are a danger even to the most well-prepared of navigators. And the Lord’s slumber does nothing to console us. We are naturally afraid.
 
But Our Lord rebukes our lack of faith. Yes, He knows our fears and the dangers that threaten us at a natural level. Even as He seemingly sleeps He knows them only too well: He suffered and died on the cross, offering the very last drop of His Precious Blood so that we might not perish: if only we have faith in Him.
 
To the many and varied fears that we naturally have, in the face whatever dangers threaten us and which rightly frighten us, the Lord offers us the gift—the armour—of super-natural faith, equipped with which we can face down anything that the world, the flesh or the devil seeks to terrorise us. For the gift of supernatural faith enables us to see beyond the storm, even if it seems that the Lord is asleep. It enables us steadfastly to navigate the seas even when the waves beat over us. And, as countless martyrs and other saints have borne witness, supernatural faith enables us to accept suffering, ignominy and defeat in the eyes of this world with the sure hope of salvation in the next—if only we hold fast and persevere unto the end. (cf. Mt. 24:13)
 
Of course, we must open ourselves to this gift and ensure it takes root in our hearts, minds and souls. It must be nourished and renewed by the sacraments, in particular by frequent confession and the worthy reception of Holy Communion. And the gift of faith in us must bear fruit in the circumstances in which we are daily called to be its witness in the world. Faith is not a one-time-only vaccination given at Baptism. It is the seed of divine life planted in our souls that must be nurtured and grow into a reality that will endure even the worst of storms.
 
Domine, salva nos, perimus! “Save, Lord; we are perishing!” we cry. He has. He does. He will. If only we have faith in Him, if only we will pray the collect of this Mass with fervour, He shall do the rest: “O God, You Who know that our human frailty cannot stand fast against the great dangers that beset us, grant us health of mind and body, that with your help we may overcome what we suffer on account of our sins.” For His help, for the grace to persevere in faith until the end, let us beg Almighty God at His altar this morning. +