“Lord, . . . bid me come to you upon the waters.”
In Henry James’s novel Portrait of a Lady Isabel Archer, an American girl of the 1880’s, was fortunate to have a wealthy aunt to take her under her wing after the demise of Isabel’s parents. This aunt’s American husband (a banker in England) had an estate in the English countryside where his wife resided one month out of the year – her main domicile being in Florence, Italy. A very independent woman! And it was an independence Isabel shared – being American. In other words she went to live with her aunt in Europe with every intention of freely savoring the experience of Europe’s culture – and definitely to avoid marriage. For no sooner did she get to England than her cousin Ralph fell in love with her as did Lord Warburton as well as an American fellow who followed her to plead his cause.
But far be it from Isabel to succumb to the marriage trap – no matter how handsome and wealthy her suitors might be. She would not be caged in her early twenties and forfeit seeing, learning, experiencing all Europe had to offer. And to enhance this exercise of her youthful freedom she soon found herself heir to half of her banker uncle’s fortune to do with as she wished – all due to her tubercular cousin’s intervention. It had to be clear sailing from here on until she had satisfied her curiosity, her intelligence, her pleasure in all this world had to offer – without strings.
Then things became turbulent. Her ship had come in but only to be tossed upon a sea of concealed covetousness. A friend of Isabel’s aunt, a Madame Merle, learned of Isabel’s inheritance. I might as well give away the plot right now. Merle was the mother of the illegitimate daughter of a snobbish, immoral dilettante living in Italy named Gilbert Osmond. He held his daughter hostage as she grew into her teens, wanting to marry her to some wealthy aristocrat. When Merle informs him of Isabel’s fortune and her presence in Florence, he puts the moves on her – deceptively – until she winds up in the very cage she wanted to avoid. Not knowing the background of her husband and his former paramour and of their conniving to get hold of Isabel’s money, Isabel endures a rough time with a spouse who is coarse, ambitious, mean spirited.
Isabel then becomes a shelter to his daughter Pansy, who begins to cling to her. But it’s only when a third party reveals to Isabel the whole background of Merle and Osmond and their unethical ways that she realizes just how caged she has been, the initial cause being the very money she inherited. Everyone urges her to divorce Osmond, start her quest for contentment all over again. But no! Isabel decides to return to Osmond – who, now exposed, has lost his power over her and must now dance to her tune. More intently she also returns to Pansy to save her from naiveté, to cultivate her own sense of worth and freedom – a worth beyond that of money.
I dwell on this story because it links up with today’s account of Jesus walking on water and beckoning Peter to join him. It’s naïve to think that life will be one long frolic, smooth day after day. Days and nights will often become turbulent like the sea upon which Jesus walked. And like Peter we may be hesitant to step out of our apparent security to test that turbulence. But that’s when we see Jesus coming toward us walking upon the dark waters – inviting us to step onto that turbulent surface (as Isabel finally did) with trust, hope and love – confident that the hand of Christ will lift us if we sink – and also confident enough to become oneself the hand of Christ extended to others who feel they are drowning. I keep that thought in mind everyday I leave the security of my home on London Way to face the torrent of Highway 12 traffic and each day’s mystery.