Pentecost 5B
June 23, 2024
Mark 4:35-41
INTRODUCTION
Today’s readings, all three plus the Psalm, share some prominent themes: in particular, a lot of storm and water imagery, and a need to trust God in the midst of hardship. We begin with the classic story of overcoming suffering: Job. In case you aren’t familiar with Job’s story, Job is a righteous man who falls victim to a dirty trick by the devil, who tries to convince God that Job isn’t so righteous. Job endures many trials – death of his whole family and livestock, sores and boils, and more – and his friends try to comfort him by explaining the pain, but to no avail. Job gets frustrated, but remains faithful. Finally, God speaks – that’s what we will hear today – and God doesn’t try to explain anything. Instead, God gives Job reason to trust him.
The Apostle Paul will likewise recount some of the sufferings the Corinthian community has endured, finally assuring them that God is always working for our salvation.
And finally, the story of the stilling of the storm in Mark. In Mark’s Gospel we often see Jesus breaking down barriers and crossing thresholds, and today’s story is definitely an example. Jesus begins by saying, “Let’s go to the other side,” in this case, away from the relatively safe land of Israelite country, to the Gentile territory across the lake. And in that liminal space between, they encounter a storm – as we so often do in liminal spaces! Yet here, too, Jesus proves he can be trusted.
And that’s really the big point of today’s texts: that God is trustworthy, whatever trials we may be facing. As you listen, think about what metaphorical storms you are facing right now, or what in-between spaces you are living in, and hear God’s Word reminding you to trust, and commanding your heart to have peace and be still. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
“Let’s go across to the other side.” Jesus utters these words at the beginning of today’s reading so nonchalantly, we may miss their weight in the narrative. But if we zoom out a bit, we can see what a big hairy deal they are.
Jesus has already made quite a splash (pardon the pun). He has performed many miraculous healings, including some on the sabbath. He has said and done plenty of things that have upset the authorities – in fact, they are already “conspiring to destroy him.” And he has begun teaching through parables about the kingdom of God, and about a life of faith.
No sooner has he finished his most recent parable than he suggests, in the evening of all times, when the sea is the most prone to sudden storms, that they hop in a boat and leave this relatively safe country and head across the sea to the land of the Gerasenes, Gentile country. So we’ve got several red flags here: 1) on this shore, Jesus has dropped some bombshells on the current religious establishment, bombshells that call norms into question and disrupt their status quo; 2) this group of guys Jesus has only recently assembled to be his disciples will be going together in a boat across a sea known to whip of dangerous storms at night, and 3) they are heading to an unknown territory that is potentially inhospitable to Jews like them.
You might call this a high anxiety situation. I mean, this is a super stressful story.
Now, we know a thing or two about stress, about anxiety, and its effects, right? For example, we know that we are not usually our best selves when we are stressed or anxious. We often lose sight of things we normally value or know to be true because we go into survival mode, and surviving becomes our most important value. And, we do not typically interpret others’ actions very charitably, but instead tend to assume everyone is out to get us. Maybe we snap at our family members and blame them for our stress at work, even though they have nothing to do with it – because surely it is this pair of shoes they didn’t put away, that I just tripped on, that is the problem here! Don’t you care about my safety? Don’t you care about my sanity? (Anyone else? No? Just me?)
Well, shoes or not, we see this behavior in the disciples. Into this already anxious situation, sure enough “a great windstorm arose, and waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.” And where was Jesus, the guy who had the brilliant idea to go for a sail at night? Asleep on a cushion?! (I love that he is on a cushion, by the way – like, he’s not just sleeping, but he is comfortable while everyone else is fearing for their lives!) And we see the anxious and frazzled disciples leap into action: “What gives, dude? You’re sleeping? Don’t you even care that we are perishing?” Out comes the survival mode, the stress response, the blaming, the accusing, the assumptions about others’ intentions. “Don’t you even care that we are suffering here?” Even Jesus is not immune to the way that humans spiral into the worst versions of themselves in the midst of stress.
Oh, this scene reminds me so much of humans in relationship today. This is us at home, it is us at work, it is us as a country, and yes, it is even us in the Church. We see it a lot, because this is a stressful, anxious time we are living in. And so, on the national stage we see a country in which pretty much everyone feels like we’re in survival mode – albeit for different reasons – and in our high-stress context, all we can do is yell and disagree and blame and make assumptions. In our families, where we are supposed to experience unconditional love, we instead dump our stress on the people who we know are safe, who we hope won’t leave us, but consequently we strain or damage these most important relationships. And in the Church, we see the writing on the wall that the Church is not what it once was – congregations are dwindling in number, Church is no longer the priority it once was… in short, things are changing – and trying to make the changes necessary to keep the Church relevant in the changing world, and to survive, and hopefully even thrive, can be incredibly painful and can cause conflict to erupt, beloved members to leave, pastors to burn out, and so on. Whether at church, at home, at work, or online, “Don’t you even care?” becomes an easy way to release some of the anxiety. “Because if you really cared about me/ this country/ this family/ this church, you would see that we are suffering, and you would change, or you would do something about it! Don’t you even care?”
In the Gospel story, Jesus already is doing something about it: he is taking them to the other side, to a different shore, to try some things differently. But this story isn’t about the other side. It is about getting there, to the other side. It is about the in-between place: the place where we can still look longingly at a past, that formerly solid ground that used to be so good, before everything started to change. This story is about the in-between place where we can kind of see what is ahead but not clearly enough to fully visualize it, or for it to feel real to us. This story is about the place that is dark, and far too prone to storms whipping up without a moment’s notice, where we feel unsteady on our feet, where we long for something stable, where we worry for our safety. This is a story about a boat full of people trying to be faithful and to survive on the chaotic sea.
And where is Jesus in all this? Well, it was Jesus who led them right into this storm. He did not let them avoid the difficult conversations, the trying situation, the painful self-reflection and self-reckoning that makes the ground feel so unstable. The sea in between this shore and that is unstable and unpredictable, but it is also necessary for our faith to grow stronger, for us to learn what it is to trust. In response to their cries, Jesus awakens, and says to all that stress and anxiety plaguing their hearts, all those waves threatening their lives: “Peace! Be still!” They don’t abandon ship. They don’t turn around and go back. They keep going, toward the uncertain future, but now, now, they know a little more of what it is to trust God in the midst of the storm.
When they thought God didn’t care, when they assumed a sleeping Jesus was an uncaring Jesus, the storm on the way in between shores seemed insurmountable. But in three words, Jesus shows them that God has been bringing order out of chaos since the beginning of time, and is still doing it for us today, as we travel in-between. When Jesus orders the chaos into stillness, the storm into peace, when our stress response is calmed, then we can hear the voice of the Lord, emerging from the whirlwind, calling us forward into a new life.
Let us pray… Caring God, we would rather stay in the safety of what is known, even if it isn’t what is best. Don’t give up on us – keep calling us into the storm, and when we are there, unstable on our feet, help us to trust that you are with us. Until we make it to shore, still the anxiety in our hearts, so we can better see what you are doing in us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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