SERMON Storms
Pentecost 2(B) proper 7 Lectionary 12 (2009):
Job 38:1-11;Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4: 35-41
I have always felt that the world divides into two camps when it comes to being in or on water. You either love it or you hate it.
Our almost ten-year old granddaughter and her five-year brother definitely fall into the category of loving to be in the water -- especially large bodies of water. From their earliest days they have been drawn to Lake Michigan like bees to honey. And once in, they do not want to come out.
Beatrice's and Felix's passion for being in Lake Michigan mirror their grandfather's passion for being on Lake Michigan -- especially in sail boats when there are small craft warnings -- a passion that once led to the entire Evanston Fire Department's gathering on the shore as he and a friend piloted their thirteen foot sail boat through the rocky shoals and seven foot high waves. The Fire Department was not amused. The sailors were not, however, chastened even though, at the very end, they were (technically -- only technically, you understand) rescued by the Fire Department. Thirty plus years later, they still get a misty eyed glow when they talk about their sail that afternoon as the best ever.
Unlike the other members of my family, I fall into the camp that hates being in but especially on water. So I identify with today's psalm that talks about the people in a ship on the sea when a stormy wind arises which tosses high the waves of the sea. The waves, the psalmist tells us, mount up to the heavens and fall back to the depths. The hearts of those on the ship "melt[] because of their peril." "They reel," we are told, "and stagger[] like drunkards and [are] at their wits' end." It's hard for me (someone who gets sea sick when there are no waves) to imagine anything worse. But then we learn, that they cry to the LORD in their trouble and are delivered from their distress. The LORD stills the storm to a whisper and quiets the waves.
What a relief!
And most of us have the same feeling of relief when we hear about Jesus and the disciples in the boat. There they are in a boat in the middle of the Sea of Galilee when a great windstorm arises. The boat is swamped, the disciples are reeling and staggering around like drunken sailors (which they aren't). Really frightened, they go to Jesus who rebukes the wind and calms the seas. The disciples are saved from certain death. With the gospel hymn, they cry, "Precious Lord, take my hand!"
And he does.
And in this way we like to think that the situations of the people in the psalmist's boat and that of the disciples are very different from Job's. Job has just asked God for an explanation of what's happening with him. Why, he is asking, am I enduring one of the biggest most unjustified storms in my personal life imaginable? And God, instead of giving Job answers, turns the tables on Job. "Gird up your loins like a man," God says. "Let me ask the questions." And ask, he does. "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?" he asks. "Tell me if you know so much." And God rhetorically asks:
[W]ho shut the seas within the doors,
when it came gushing from the womb?--
when I made the cloud its garment,
And thick darkness its swaddling band
And prescribed bounds for it,
and set up bars and doors,
and said, 'Thus far come shall you come,
and but no farther.
and her shall you proud waves
be stopped?
And the answers to God's questions are no answer to Job. He already has a pretty good sense of his helplessness. There's no calming of the seas for Job. God is not going to bail him out.
Which makes us comforted by today's gospel. Unlike God for Job, Jesus is always there to help us out. To calm the seas. True? True -- until we look a little closer. When we do, there are many things that are truly odd.
For one thing, there are other boats that start out with the boat with Jesus and the disciples. What's happened to those boats? Did their captains heed small craft warnings? Another thing, why are the disciples who are seasoned fishermen so frightened? Presumably, they belong to the camp (my family's!) that loves to be in and on water -- the camp that rejoices in the challenge of deliberately sailing when there are small craft warnings.
Well, one explanation why the disciples are so frightened is because the ancient view of the sea is very different from ours -- whether one was a seasoned fisherman or not. It is the view of creation reflected in God's rhetorical question to Job about the sea. Remember Genesis? In the beginning "darkness covered the face of the deep" and God moved over the deep? The "deep" was water. And as described by God to Job, in creation, God essentially reigned out the water by clouds and land. So there was a three level universe of earth, air, sky, all surrounded by water. Containment of the water was always tenuous and very scary. That's why, in the blurb before the gospel, today's Celebrate insert says, "the sea represents evil and chaos."
That may be true, but it is perhaps reading too much into the disciples' waking Jesus and saying, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing!" Looked at objectively, waking Jesus up is perfectly understandable and the question asked is perfectly legitimate. The stern of first century Palestinian boats -- where Jesus is (of all things!) napping -- was reserved for persons of honor.
What is Jesus doing napping? Everyone else is busy bailing out a boat that is being swamped by water. Honored teacher or not, Jesus is needed to help out. Doesn't he care that they are perishing? The disciples are not asking for the calming of the sea -- if they were, they would not be filled with great awe when that happens and would not ask, "Who then is this, that even the wind and see obey him?" No, unlike the sailors in the psalm, they are not crying out to the Lord in their distress. They are asking for real, physical help and labor.
They don't expect the calming of the sea, but they get it. But why?
Well, it isn't because they deserved it (or even asked for it!). Jesus makes that perfectly clear. He says to them, "Why were you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Both of these are loaded questions. Neither is gently nor kindly asked.
Being cowardly was about the worse thing a first century Palestinian male could be. And that's what Jesus accuses them of being -- even though the only evidence of possible cowardliness is their waking Jesus up. That was it. And the question about faith did not have to do with ascribing to certain beliefs, saying certain creeds. Rather, faith meant loyalty -- loyalty demonstrated in actions. And, like the accusation of being cowardly, the question about faith has to do with waking Jesus up and not manning the decks in the meantime.
So why does Jesus calm the sea? Maybe it is, as the Celebrate blurb has it, so he can reveal his power over evil. Maybe, as is more likely the case, it is to show that the Kingdom of God will involve the healing and wholeness of all creation -- nature included -- real "Peace," real "Shalom." Certainly, it is to demonstrate that the power behind all that Jesus is doing is from God.
Whatever the reason, Jesus does not calm the sea to make the disciples feel good and comforted even though they are the beneficiaries of that act. What Jesus is saying to them is "Your place is not to act cowardly but to continue doing what you were doing without disturbing me. I am not on this boat to bail you or it out even though I could and did calm the sea."
And, in some ways, that is very much what God was saying to Job. "Gird up your loins!" God says to Job. "Don't be a coward." "Your loyalty should be to me, creator of all that is." And it is certainly what Paul was telling the Corinthian Christians when he talks about his personal storms as a Christian. This being a Christian involves courage and hard work -- and the power of God. Listen to Paul:
as servants of God we [this is the royal "we" -- Paul here is really talking about himself] have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see -- we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.
When I first came here, a long-time member gave me articles about Wicker Park Lutheran Church that were written in 1952 and 1966. And, at both times, the larger church was at a loss to know what to do with this church. This was a congregation that was facing many of the challenges mentioned by Paul -- challenges to its very existence. Somehow the larger church felt that Wicker Park Lutheran Church shouldn't have to do that. Better that it close.
But, like Paul, this community of faith realized that it was in these very challenges that it was being called to be what it is supposed to be in the larger community -- the Body of Christ. And what this church did is what Jesus tells the early church -- a church represented by the disciples on the boat -- what he tells that church it is supposed to do: to be brave and to be loyal to the gospel.
External storms raged on in Wicker Park in the 1950s, '60s, 70's and '80s, but the Wicker Park Lutheran community of faith continued brave and was loyal. There were no easy fixes, no calming of the waters. And no one asked for any. By God's grace, this community of faith was true to the gospel. Courageous and loyal.
And we are here this morning because of that courage and loyalty. Precious Savior, Take my Hand? Yes. Our storms may not be calmed but Jesus does not bail out. Jesus Savior Pilot Me? Definitely. We need direction even if it is to be courageous and loyal. But what we are really about here this morning -- really about -- is discipleship. Courageous and loyal. And for the ability to do that we can only thank God. Amen
June 21, 2009
Ruth VanDemark, pastor
Wicker Park Lutheran Church
Chicago