But, when they saw him walking on the water, they thought it was a ghost, and cried out;
a ghost
by any other name
frightensunexplained healings
what were those feedings
shockin their moments
we got caught up
aweddelayed PTSD
sees another anomaly
freakstruggling sailors
know long odds
improbablein the end
a keening scream
abandoned
Exhausted by being tortured by rowing against an overwhelming storm at sea, it is easy to have our thinking get out of whack. In a small fashion my bicycling from Madison, WI to Boston, MA brought an exhausted time when thinking went backward and a prayer went up that the trees would stop waving so the wind would stop.
On a proverbially “dark and stormy night”, while worn down with water in every eye from exertion (salty) and rain and spray, any form takes on more than itself. Recognition of a dear friend can be glimpsed in many a crowd by just one characteristic or discounted in a location where they would be least expected to be present.
Apparently, still, one person’s intention is not clear to others. An intent to pass by appears false. There! That! It’s still coming closer. What are we going to do? And the closer it comes the more prepared we are to do the only recourse we have—scream for help! Even if there is no Coast Guard, we scream.
Regardless of how many rational explanations and extended midrashes as we come up with, we are probably dealing more with a revelatory story than an accurate accounting that can withstand every speculation thrown against it.
When we are caught in the throws of danger or concentration we are vulnerable to early tapes overwhelming our later learnings. Herod killed John. This storm is about to do us in. Here comes a demon we don’t recognize. The world is falling apart. Our acts of centering are failing us. The times are higgledy-piggledy. A Son of G*D won’t make it against the Romans. How can we click our heels together or knock the dust off our feet in this inhospitable situation?