“Jesus answered them saying, ‘When evening has come, you say, “It’ll be fair weather; because, the sky is red.” Yet in the morning, you say, “Red sky and overcast, it’ll storm today.” You understand the sky but why not the characteristics of these times'” (Matthew 16-2-3)?
I was a pre-teen or a little younger the first time I came upon the phrase “red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky at morning, sailor take warning” in a children’s book on weather. It would be a couple of decades later that I’d realize this phrase was in the Bible, not to mention even older than the first century.
Red skies in the evening come from the setting sunlight, its wavelengths bent and short, shining upon the clouds in the west, which have left a clearing as they begin to move out. Whatever storms might have raged in the day, the evening and night promise clear weather. The same light in the east reveals encroaching clouds and bad weather on the way.
Jesus’ annoyed response here comes as a group of religious leaders come asking him to demonstrate some sort of sign or proof that he was one sent by God. The subtext is this isn’t the first time this has happened, and Jesus is smart enough to know that even if he sent pigs flying across the sky today, tomorrow someone would be asking for yet another proof of his ministry.
And to the religious leaders’ credit, I get the question. Jesus isn’t really acting or talking like the prophets that usually come with the words of the Holy One on their lips. He’s not calling for the slaughter of an entire nation like Samuel or running around naked like Jeremiah. He hasn’t called down fire from heaven like Elijah or sent wild bears after his critics like Elisha.
Instead, Jesus has travelled from town to town, spending a lot of time having dinner with anyone who invites him, talking to people who decent people ignore, and portraying the Divine as someone who’s not as into smiting and punishing as was normally thought.
Now, in response to a demand for some sort of authoritative proof of his identity, he simply points them to the most natural, normal thing a village of fisherfolk along the shore would know as a way of saying that the signs were already all around them, in the familiar, everyday world.
I suppose it’s like, for those of us who live hours away from the beach, pointing out something along the lines that you know it’s January when there’s Valentine’s day candy in the grocery store. You know what that means, so how is it you don’t realize the proof in this present moment that Jesus is who he says he is.
And if I’m honest, he’s right. I mean, sure, I know the weather’s about to change based on the headache behind my eyes, and the season based on what’s prominent on the store shelves. But if I look at the signs around me in this Time Being, it can be difficult to see proof to Jesus’ claim to be who he said he was. Money instead of love appears to turn the world, people we know and love get diagnoses that scare us, and while the red sky still foretells if it’ll rain, the weather seems all off-kilter.
Yet, perhaps I’m missing something in these normal, gloomy winter mornings when the sky is the color of rust. It’s possible I might see something different if I turn and look where it appears the sun is setting.
Storm Calmer, you refused to give signs because they were already all around, and even today proof of who you were and the power of Love in this world still shine in starlit nights and sunny afternoons. May we learn, in this Time Being, to look, to see the signs of hope in this world.