"So Peter got out of the boat, but when he saw the wind, he was afraid and began to sink, and he cried out, Lord save me! Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying, Why did you doubt?" I believe with all my heart and soul that that is a real question and a loving question. "Why did you doubt?" I do not believe for a second that Jesus is scolding Peter. Jesus doesn't scold. That's the Church. It's the Church that scolds, not Jesus. Unless you're a Pharisee. But if you are an ordinary Christian, a simple Galilean, a man or woman of some faith, but maybe not heroic faith, just someone wanting to do his or her best, hoping to love God, trying to love your neighbor—no. No. People like that, like you, are not scolded by our Lord. Never. Not very often, but sometimes I get out of the boat, and put a tentative toe in the water, and far sooner than Peter get alarmed when I fear I am trying more than I can do, promising to God or my church more than I can really deliver, setting out more confident about my faith and courage and commitment than I can really back up—sometimes I just want to do well and speak kindly and live appropriately, and I just start to slip up, and sink down, and fall short. And my reaction is well, darn, not as good a Christian as I thought, not the kind of man I should be, want to be, and oh so hoped to be. That I think is my equivalent of Peter's "Lord, save me!" And you know, of course you know, it's happened to all of you, you know, that is exactly the moment Jesus reaches out his hand and immediately grasps us hold us, keeps us in his love. And wonders, and asks, in that love of his—why? Why did you feel this way about yourself, why did you worry about your faith, why did you fall short of what you wanted and hoped and prayed you could do, why did you slip, why did you fall short in your own eyes, why did you doubt. Tell me, and I will help, I will give you more, give you what you need. This is the way of Jesus. No scolding, no shaming, no look of disappointment. I thought I might hear from him: "Oh you faithless priest, you wicked man, you naughty boy. That is the Church, or rather, the church's puffed-up prelates who make that kind of comment. Not Jesus. Jesus comes even closer and asks quietly and tenderly, Bill, why did you doubt. What do you need. Thomas doubted, he needed to touch my wounds, I let him. Then he believed. Peter was sinking and cried to be saved, and I caught him by the hand, immediately. Two men were trudging off to Emmaus, in doubt and grief, knowing I had died, and so doubting all I had said. I gave them the key to understanding all Scripture to take away their doubt. And when that was not enough when we got to their house, I gave them the mass. Then the doubt was gone, and they believed. Now you, Bill, you are frightened and anxious, wondering and questioning – why? Why do you doubt? What is it that you need? I will give it to you. Whatever it is that you need to ease that doubt and take it away, I will give that to you. I will do no less for you than I did for Peter or Thomas. Or those two on the road to Emmaus. Sometimes we are full of faith, and sometimes not—we are all used to that or should be. That stranger time is when we are full of faith that is itself full of hot air. Peter leapt from the boat in faith. I have (more in my braver youth) rushed forward in faith to some new commitment and adventure for the sake of Christ. But then you get a little nervous, because there is that wind, and or some sickness, or some loneliness, or some fear or some sadness, and you get a little discouraged, and you start to sink in some fashion or other. We all have Peter's fear, we all share his miscellaneous failings from time to time. I hope we share his immediate and faithful if frightened cry—"Lord save me!". Because then, immediately, Jesus stretches out his hand and catches us. But he wonders, ands asks, why did you doubt. What was it? What is it? What did you not have, what do you need. Tell him, then and there, and he will give it to you—immediately.