Walking on water is a story almost invariably interpreted as a symbol. Indeed, one could hardly offer a more precise image of faith—and of life in faith—than this. The fact that the Lord Jesus walks on water does not, however, astonish us as much as it astonished the apostles, because we already know that He is the Son of God. From a practical point of view, what Peter—a human being just like us—does is far more important for us. And when he, having volunteered to come to Jesus across the water, began to sink, we who read about it must remember that this was not happening in a children's swimming pool but on a large, stormy lake. And for Peter, as for each of us, walking towards Jesus in this situation is a matter of life and death.

For us living in a globalised world, where a stream of information pours down on everyone each day, it is obvious how important it is to know how to choose what deserves our attention, what deserves our gaze. And that is why the example of the apostle walking on water is so important to us. His faith is sufficient for this miracle as long as he looks at Jesus. As soon as Peter is distracted and looks down at his feet, as soon as his attention focuses on the “objective difficulties” of his path, he begins to sink. And so do we...

Today's reading tells us how Jesus calmed the storm that arose on the Lake of Gennesaret while His disciples were crossing to the other shore. And it is usually this very fact that makes the greatest impression on the reader, for in this way Jesus' power over the forces of nature, which are beyond the control of an ordinary person, is emphasized.

Yet here too what stands before us is once again nothing other than a manifestation of the fullness of the Kingdom. It truly begins to penetrate our world, which is not yet fully transformed, and to change its nature. In essence, what we see here is not the calming of the storm, but its disappearance in the peace in which the Kingdom always abides. It differs from mere calming in exactly the same way as the healings performed by Jesus differ from ordinary cures achieved by purely medical means. Jesus does not cure diseases; He simply brings a person into the Kingdom, where there is no place for them, and the person is made well. The same is true of the storm: bearing the Kingdom within Himself, Jesus does not calm it, but transforms nature, making it part of the Kingdom, where there is no place for a storm. It is no accident that He Himself does not sail, but walks on the water. Apparently, in the Kingdom the very nature of water changes so greatly that a person can walk on it, whereas in our untransformed world he can walk in this way only on land.

One might, of course, suppose that only Jesus Himself was capable of this, but that is disproved by the fact that Peter too was able to walk on the water just like his Teacher (vv. 28–29). But only for as long as he looked at Jesus. As soon as he looked at the raging lake, fear seized his heart and he began to sink (v. 30).

Here again we see a manifestation of the Kingdom. Indeed, Peter could walk on the water as long as he looked at Jesus and abided in the Kingdom together with Him. It was the only reality for Peter, and so he could walk on the water and the storm did him no harm, for there is no storm in the Kingdom. But as soon as he allowed fear to take possession of his heart, that fear instantly separated him from the Kingdom. It disappeared, leaving only the raging elements around him. And had it not been for the Saviour's outstretched hand, things might have ended very sadly for Peter (v. 31). It is no accident that, as Jesus reaches out His hand to His disciple, He immediately asks him about his lack of faith. Today, as the Kingdom penetrates our world more and more deeply, our own faith alone determines whether it becomes for us a genuine and supreme reality or remains merely a beautiful dream and an unattainable ideal.

In today's passage about walking on the water, there are words that enable us in the most direct way to feel that we are God's own children. These words resound within us whenever we face the most difficult moments of our lives: “...it is I; do not be afraid.”

The world is frightening. When we look around, we realise how frightening, cruel, and bloody it is. But just as a child who has been put to bed and imagines terrifying monsters in the darkness of the room is calmed as soon as their mother looks in, so we, on hearing these words, find the strength within us to step out of our boat into the raging sea. This teaches us to rise above the animal fear for our own lives and the lives of those close to us, and to cling to just one fear: the fear of grieving God.

There is one more thing we must understand as we reflect on these words. Our breakthrough toward God always takes place in solitude. Just as Peter stood up, left his friends in the boat, and went alone across the waves to meet Christ, so we attain true communion with God only when we have shut the door of our room behind us and remained alone with God.