Hearing The Word

A weekly newsletter delivering context and insight into the Sunday Gospels.

August 9, 2026

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Matthew 14:22-33

After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into a boat

and precede him to the other side,

while he dismissed the crowds. 

After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. 

When it was evening he was there alone. 

Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore,

was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it. 

During the fourth watch of the night,

he came toward them walking on the sea. 

When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. 

“It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear. 

At once Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” 

Peter said to him in reply,

“Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” 

He said, “Come.” 

Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. 

But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened;

and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” 

Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter,

and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” 

After they got into the boat, the wind died down. 

Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying,

“Truly, you are the Son of God.”



Seeing in the Dark

Rev. Thomas Dailey, O.S.F.S., S.T.D.

Cardinal Foley Chair of Social Communication + Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary

Following the feeding of the 5000, in which the disciples hesitantly participated, today’s gospel narrates a miracle affecting them decisively.

Sending his disciples ahead of him on their voyage, Jesus gets some time alone that the hungry crowds had precluded. He goes “up on the mountain by himself to pray” – the only time Matthew mentions Jesus praying, until He does again in the garden of Gethsemane.

But this night has its own dangers. The disciples, among them experienced fishermen, struggle to navigate through a nocturnal storm.

Jesus takes the initiative to save them. Again overcoming the limits of the natural world (as at the Incarnation), he goes toward them “walking on the sea.”

Compounded by their seafaring futility, and owing to the dark of night (the “fourth watch” being between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m.), the disciples are frightened at this miraculous feat. What else could this be except “a ghost”?

Reassuring them of His presence (“it is I” - literally “I am”), Jesus challenges them to be courageous. Peter tries. When invited to “come,” the fisherman who knows the power of the sea actually steps off the boat. Amazingly, he is able to do what Jesus does – he “began to walk on the water.”

Until he doesn’t. Instead of looking “toward Jesus,” he sees the peril of his circumstances. His instinctive fear takes over. He begins to succumb. He cries out at the prospect of a watery death.

Still (and always) nearby, Jesus “stretched out his hand,” as He will later do on the cross. He “caught Peter,” the catcher of fish whom Jesus had previously promised would one day catch men. He points out Peter’s “little faith,” not by way of rebuking the disciple (as in Mark’s gospel), but as an invitation to abandon lingering doubt and trust in the ongoing promise.

The calamity having been averted (“the wind died down”), the message of the miracle dawns on the disciples. The darkness of worldly peril begins to give way to the light of gospel understanding. Jesus is “truly ... the Son of God.”

Jesus Walks on Water



~Angela Lawlor

Nativity of Our Lord Parish + Warminster, Pa.

In this Gospel, Peter does something remarkable — he steps out of a boat in the middle of a storm. He does not step out because the conditions are right, but because Jesus calls him. For a moment, with Christ, he walks on water. Then the wind picks up, and as his fear takes over, he begins to sink. He cries out, "Lord, save me!" and Jesus reaches out immediately, catching him before he goes under.

I am most drawn to this moment in this Gospel as a mother to young children.

Some days feel like the calm before Peter ever left the boat — reading books before bed, hugs from little arms, and goodbye rituals before leaving for school, happy days at the pool, and small hands reaching for mine. But other days, the storm rolls in fast and catches me off guard. A meltdown in the grocery store. A sick child in the middle of the night. Chatter and sibling disagreements, varied and changing needs, and the nagging feeling that I am not doing enough. In those moments, my eyes shift from Jesus and — like Peter — and I start to sink.

Raising children means living in a beautiful, exhausting in-between. They still need you for everything, and yet you can feel so alone in the weight of it. The laundry, the lunches, the homework, the after-school marathon of activities — can often not feel holy in the moment. But I believe God meets us right there, in the ordinary chaos of it all.



What strikes me most is that Jesus did not wait for Peter to get it together. He reached out immediately. As I continue to take in these summer days and memories and prepare for a new school year, that is the God I am leaning on — one who catches me before I go under, every single time.