And Then, Jesus Does the Impossible
Posted by stpauls on June 21, 2009 under Sermons | 
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[This sermon was written and delivered by Presiding Priest Ruth Monette.]
Jesus, as you calmed the storm, calm our hearts so that we may open them wide and feel the Holy Spirit moving within us. Amen.
If you heard in this morning’s Gospel passage the promise that Jesus can calm storms – “Peace. Be still.” – and thought, “I SO needed to hear that this morning,” – well, I understand. Who hasn’t had a time when life felt like rough seas? When life feels that way, it can be spiritually strengthening to imagine Jesus speaking into the howling wind of our unemployment or the pounding waves of our marital discord or the drenching rain of a chronic illness: Peace. Be still. Imagining the calm Jesus offers us may be exactly what you need to hold on to while the storms rage around you.
And if that is where you feel yourself right now — I suggest you stop listening. Go ahead. Take a little nap. I won’t mind. In fact, I have to admit it would have been okay with me if we could have stopped reading from the Gospel of Mark at the 39th verse of chapter 4. That would be where it says, “He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.” Then we could have celebrated the promise of that calmness – that with Jesus all our storms could be calmed and that we could anticipate smooth sailing.
But. There is as much falsehood as there is truth in that. The Gospel of Mark doesn’t leave the story there. No, this story of Jesus and his disciples in a boat on the sea in a storm continues. As we heard it this morning in the Gospel of Mark and in Luke and Matthew where this story appears as well. The story continues with Jesus chiding the disciples (Have you still no faith?) and their amazement.
You know what? That’s not the right word. Amazement doesn’t quite cut it. As the Gospel tells it they are dumbstruck. Gobsmacked. They are completely freaked out. They just watched this prophet that they’ve been following do the impossible. As far as they know it is impossible for human beings to make it stop raining. And let’s face: despite what the Chinese might be up to trying to manipulate the weather – if human beings could make it stop raining by speaking “Peace. Be still.” we’d have a completely different climate in Vancouver. So, we, like the disciples, tend to believe that weather is just one of those things you are stuck with. And then Jesus does the impossible: he speaks and the rain stops, the wind dies down, and waves subside. The disciples aren’t awed and amazed in the sense of being impressed. They are awed and amazed in the sense of being TERRIFIED.
The Gospel accounts, not here in Mark or in Matthew or Luke, do not tell us the answer the disciples gave when Jesus asked “Why are you afraid?” But I can guess. It’s a long list. For starters, drowning. If I were one of the disciples with Jesus, being tossed about in a storm on the sea, I’d be afraid of drowning. And of having the boat be smashed to bits – because, you know, that boat belonged to someone and whoever that was wouldn’t been too pleased to have their boat destroyed. And how about the fact that these disciples had given up their lives to follow Jesus? Was it all a mistake? Was he not a holy man, but a magician, an evil sorcerer? Had they abandoned their families, their livelihoods, the respect of their communities for this man and been wrong? Or, are they right? Is he the greatest prophet they’ve ever seen? Is he the Messiah? If he’s the Messiah what were they – fishermen, a tax collector, ordinary people – doing as his inner circle? Had they gotten themselves in too deep?
I wonder if when they hit dry land, if any of the disciples started walking as far and as fast away from Jesus as they could? Was it just too much for any of them?
As much as we want this story to be a story that begins in fear and ends in calm, peaceful surety, it is not. This is a story that starts and ends in fear. The panicked fear of a boat being tossed and battered in a storm. And the pit of the stomach anxiety of worry – are we doing the right thing? what if we’re wrong? what will happen next?
Even in their fear, or maybe especially in their fears, it is hard not to see ourselves in the disciples. We too are following Jesus, or trying to, or maybe just thinking about it. And maybe we too are sometimes caught off guard by the power and magnitude of what it means to follow Jesus. We too find ourselves wondering if we’re doing the right thing, worrying that we’re wrong. We too wonder “who is this Jesus we follow?”
Perhaps, like the disciples, you have taken a risk or two in following Jesus. Was it risky to paint a labyrinth on the floor and to invite the city of Vancouver to a spiritual experience, not in your sanctuary, but in your church hall? After the first week the Advocacy Office was open, did you look at each other and wonder “what have we done?” Did it seem like a risk when you told your friends you couldn’t meet for brunch on Sunday morning because you’d be at church? Or when you confronted a coworker who said all Christians were hypocrites or Bible-thumping jerks or pie-in-the-sky dreamers or worse? Have you changed careers because you could no longer square your life at work with what you thought it meant to be Christian? Have you felt the pull towards mission work, spent your vacation building homes for hurricane survivors or tried to figure out how you could take a year off to work with the poor?
Part of taking risks is knowing when to act – when to stop collecting evidence, weighing your options, building your plan and move. The way the Gospels tell it, when people, including the disciples, encountered Jesus they just moved. They leapt.
And maybe that is why Jesus seems annoyed or puzzled or saddened at their lack of faith. Maybe it is because he thought when they leaped into following him they had handled all their fears. But they hadn’t. The fear crept back in or rushed back in. I think the disciples were afraid of Jesus being who he really was.
If Jesus is really God… If the Resurrection is for real… If God really loves us… well, then things might have to change. We might have to give up the family business like James and John. We might have to face some things about our lives we would rather ignore. Because, let’s face it: change can be scary. Sometimes the storm we know feels better than the calm we have never experienced before.
I’m pretty convinced actually that a whole of Christianity is holding on tight to our boats about to sink in the storm because we’re too afraid to wake Jesus up. Too afraid to find out if Jesus is really who we think he is. Too afraid that this time, Jesus can’t or won’t calm the storm. And I think we’re not sure which would be worse.
It is into that mess of fear that Paul’s words to the Corinthians are spoken:
Now is the acceptable time.
Now is the day of salvation.
Open wide your hearts.
We can do that, right? I know you all can. Your hearts are wide open. I had not come to church here more than a dozen times or so before I realized this about you all. Every time Markus says “whoever you are and wherever you are on the journey, you are welcome here” you take the risk of making that real. And you do a pretty good job of it. That’s what I noticed. Because I can tell you, lots of churches say that everyone is welcome. And lots of churches are giving their visitors the hairy eyeball which says clearly that they are not so sure they mean it. But here at St. Paul’s you don’t just say it. You are working on living it. Could you do more? Sure. But your hearts are wide open.
I wish I could tell you that because your hearts are wide open, your seas will always be calm. But, as I said before, you and I know that life doesn’t work that way. There will always be storms. There will always be fears. The trick is knowing when to take the risk anyway.
So go forth today knowing these things to be true: You have been in the storm. You have felt the calm of Jesus’ “peace. be still.” And you know: now is the acceptable time. Now is the day of salvation. Open wide your hearts.
Amen.
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
Mark 4:35-41
[The Presiding Priest Ruth Monette delivered this sermon on the Sunday, June 21, 2009.]