In fear and amazement they asked each other, who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.
Who are you? I said to him in my mind, as we circled around the steadied boat. No fish had ever seen the like, a silenced storm, turned out as sharply as a candle dropped into our world from above. We knew who had done it, of course. The man who had walked across the water. The man whose still presence at the bottom of the boat had maddened the wind, sent it screaming across the earth as we had rarely heard, even in the depths of winter. And this was summer. Such a strange summer storm.
No one can quiet the wind, we said to each other. And the waters, around him. Quiet like his voice, placid like his steps across the waves. And yet so strong, so steadfast, so steel-like, that even the wind turned tail. Not just the disciples, as their Bible puts it, but all of us, heaven earth and sea, we did not know what to make of it. Or of him.
Is it reasonable to be terrified, as we were, of such a quiet, gentle man?
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