Several years ago, I was serving as a hospital chaplain the summer after graduating from seminary when I found myself with a family who was about to unexpectedly say goodbye to a loved one; an older gentleman who had been rushed to the hospital and was in cardiac arrest. When I arrived at the room, they were all standing around the bed, about five of them, each touching his leg or arm and talking to him, hoping he would hear. We said a prayer together, and then we all stood there in silence, the weight of the moment bearing down on us.

Every week, during the school year, there is something that happens in the children’s area that I suspect most of us do not see.

In the first part of the 19th century, Egypt was a British colony and the age of egyptology was just starting to take off, with these massive archaeological efforts uncovering ancient tombs and artifacts arriving in British museums for a captivated public.

Sermon by Student Rabbi Benjamin Russell

There are several of these “crossing” scenes in the Gospel of Matthew. The gospel is funny that way: the disciples and Jesus are always on the move, taking a path that doesn’t seem to make sense. Always traveling from here to there, crossing the Sea of Galilee only to go back again. And so these crossings seem to have a deeper, symbolic meaning. A challenging situation often awaits them on the other side—a test of some kind or an encounter that leaves them changed. And on at least two occasions, the challenge comes on the journey itself, when the disciples find themselves out on the water.