God
of the Storm
24 June 2012 Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 7B
Homily Preached at Trinity Episcopal Church
24 June 2012 Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 7B
Homily Preached at Trinity Episcopal Church
Ashland,
Oregon
8:00 a.m. Spoken Mass; 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
8:00 a.m. Spoken Mass; 10:00 a.m. Sung Mass
Job
38:1-11, 16-18; Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-134-21; Mark 4:35-41
God,
take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.
Several years ago while living in French-speaking West Africa, I had a brilliant idea that I wanted to take my sons deep sea fishing. I asked about finding what we call in the United States a “head boat” or renting a charter. A clerk who worked for me at the U.S. Embassy arranged the rental of a small launch and gave me directions to arrive at the commercial fishing port early on the next Saturday morning where he would introduce us to the boatmen, who had “guaranteed” a heavy catch of large sports fish. We went fishing that day, but, long story short, had a very long, exhausting, and frightening—even terrifying—day. The boat was not the launch we had expected, but a small dugout canoe with a small outboard motor. Various voodoo deities of the ocean were beautifully carved on its prow, provoking the clerk to announce solemnly that this was a positive sign that the boat was perfectly safe and that we would be protected by the local deities as we fished in a more traditional way than he and I had expected. The boatmen were two local fishermen who spoke no known language, leastwise one known to any European, Asian, and American, or even to any African who came from further than 25 kilometers from their home village. We caught no fish, and got our lines fouled on an off-shore oil drilling platform. We lost power and drifted into Nigerian waters that were the haunts of pirates and very brutal thugs. When through what seemed a miracle the engine returned to service, we started back to port, but then the seas rose and a storm approached. We were tossed by 15 foot waves in our 12 foot canoe with it pitiful 8 inches of freeboard. Soaked to the bone, skin blue and teeth chattering with cold, though this was in the tropics, we returned to port hours late, thankful to be alive. I fortunately had remembered to bring life preservers, though there were shark fins visible in the water. My sons with me that day have never forgotten the day, and still on occasion tease me for almost having gotten them kidnapped by pirates, bringing them low to a watery grave, or feeding them to sharks.
Going onto the waters in a boat has
always been the source of awe and fear for human beings, and sailors always
thought to be particularly brave or absolutely foolish. We are just too vulnerable when out on the
water in a storm. The Breton fisherman’s
prayer, otherwise ascribed to St. Brendan the navigator who sailed in a small
coracle probably about the size of our voodoo canoe, expresses the idea well,
“Protect me, Lord. Your sea is so great
and my boat is so small.”
The story of Jesus calming the storm is
more than just a recitation of a miraculous act of Jesus that demonstrates his
authority. It is a story underscoring that Jesus is compassionate, and wholly
worthy of trust and being relied on when we are in trouble.
Those who told the first stories about Jesus calming the storm that later turn up in our gospels almost certainly had in mind the description of the God who calls the storms and then calms them which we recited today from Psalm 107. In Churches and parishes in port towns and in military chaplaincies for the Navy, we often hear the section of this Psalm that we recited today, the part about “those who go down to the sea in ships.”
But what is interesting to me is this—Psalm 107 is not just about sailors. It has several different sections describing people in many different extreme situations, where they need to rely on God. The whole Psalm could be entitled, “God, the Savior of People in Distress.”
Part (vv. 4-9) talks about people who get lost in the desert and run out of water. God there leads them back to an oasis.
Another part (vv. 10-16) describes prisoners in a dark dungeon. God leads them from darkness to light, from bondage to freedom.
Yet another (vv. 17-22) talks about people suffering from horrible illness, as the Psalmist says, “because of their wicked ways.” They are near the gates of death because they cannot eat food anymore, because it has become so distasteful to them in their illness. One wonders whether whether the Psalmist has venereal disease, alcoholism or drug addiction, or some other ailment in mind, but the bit about not wanting to eat any nourishing food brings all these to mind. In the Psalmist's era, people thought disease came as punishment from God rather than from infection microbes. God heals these people when they call on him.
Those who told the first stories about Jesus calming the storm that later turn up in our gospels almost certainly had in mind the description of the God who calls the storms and then calms them which we recited today from Psalm 107. In Churches and parishes in port towns and in military chaplaincies for the Navy, we often hear the section of this Psalm that we recited today, the part about “those who go down to the sea in ships.”
But what is interesting to me is this—Psalm 107 is not just about sailors. It has several different sections describing people in many different extreme situations, where they need to rely on God. The whole Psalm could be entitled, “God, the Savior of People in Distress.”
Part (vv. 4-9) talks about people who get lost in the desert and run out of water. God there leads them back to an oasis.
Another part (vv. 10-16) describes prisoners in a dark dungeon. God leads them from darkness to light, from bondage to freedom.
Yet another (vv. 17-22) talks about people suffering from horrible illness, as the Psalmist says, “because of their wicked ways.” They are near the gates of death because they cannot eat food anymore, because it has become so distasteful to them in their illness. One wonders whether whether the Psalmist has venereal disease, alcoholism or drug addiction, or some other ailment in mind, but the bit about not wanting to eat any nourishing food brings all these to mind. In the Psalmist's era, people thought disease came as punishment from God rather than from infection microbes. God heals these people when they call on him.
Finally, we see the part about those who go out upon the sea and get caught in
a storm (vv. 23-32). Again, God calms the storm when they call on him. The
psalm ends (vv. 33-41) by saying that God can change a river into a desert, and
rich springs into dusty and arid ground. He can turn fruitful land into a salt
marsh, and a desert into pools of water. The point is that God is a reliable
savior in any hardship.
So the next time we hear the story about Jesus calming the storm, let’s not just think about Jesus helping mariners only.
Think about the drug addicts and alcoholics who have been helped by Jesus when they call upon him and surrender to him. And that, whatever name they might use to call Jesus, or image they might have of their “higher power.”
Think about the physically ill who have found healing and comfort in Jesus.
Think about how his message can help those lost in mental illness, or harmful ego.
Think about the poor that Jesus calls us to serve and assist.
Think about how he helps those lost in sin and self-deception, ourselves included, and lost in exploitation and deception of others.
“Master, don’t you care that we are perishing?” the disciples in the boat cry when they find him sleeping in the storm.
Before replying, Jesus calms the storm. Then he asks, “Why are you terrified? Where’s your trust in God? Where’s your faith?”
When I heard this story as a young boy, I heard this line and thought that Jesus here was condemning the disciples. "Oh ye of little faith." "If only you had faith, Peter, you could not only walk on water but also calm the sea itself." "If you have faith the size of a tiny mustard seed, you could not only move mountains, but calm the oceans too." All this conspired to make me want to say, "I'm unworthy, unworthy."
But that is not what the story is trying to say. Remember that this is the Jesus who spent his days with drunkards and prostitutes, and when criticized for this replied, "sick people need a doctor, not healthy ones." It is the same Jesus who told the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector.
The point is this--if we are forced by our circumstances to think we need God, then we should realize that it is God that we are in need of. God is trustworthy. God, in the idea of the Psalm we chanted today, is the savior of all in distress. Relying on God leaves little room for fear. Regardless of how things turn out, we know that, in the words of the prayer, God "is doing for us more that we can ask or imagine."
That's why Jesus calms the sea before he asks his disciples why they were afraid. He sympathizes and understands them, but wants to turn their rough fear and general sense of needing into a directed desire for the help of the One who is wholly trustworthy.
Jesus cares, and can help. We need to trust him.
Let us pray.
So the next time we hear the story about Jesus calming the storm, let’s not just think about Jesus helping mariners only.
Think about the drug addicts and alcoholics who have been helped by Jesus when they call upon him and surrender to him. And that, whatever name they might use to call Jesus, or image they might have of their “higher power.”
Think about the physically ill who have found healing and comfort in Jesus.
Think about how his message can help those lost in mental illness, or harmful ego.
Think about the poor that Jesus calls us to serve and assist.
Think about how he helps those lost in sin and self-deception, ourselves included, and lost in exploitation and deception of others.
“Master, don’t you care that we are perishing?” the disciples in the boat cry when they find him sleeping in the storm.
Before replying, Jesus calms the storm. Then he asks, “Why are you terrified? Where’s your trust in God? Where’s your faith?”
When I heard this story as a young boy, I heard this line and thought that Jesus here was condemning the disciples. "Oh ye of little faith." "If only you had faith, Peter, you could not only walk on water but also calm the sea itself." "If you have faith the size of a tiny mustard seed, you could not only move mountains, but calm the oceans too." All this conspired to make me want to say, "I'm unworthy, unworthy."
But that is not what the story is trying to say. Remember that this is the Jesus who spent his days with drunkards and prostitutes, and when criticized for this replied, "sick people need a doctor, not healthy ones." It is the same Jesus who told the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector.
The point is this--if we are forced by our circumstances to think we need God, then we should realize that it is God that we are in need of. God is trustworthy. God, in the idea of the Psalm we chanted today, is the savior of all in distress. Relying on God leaves little room for fear. Regardless of how things turn out, we know that, in the words of the prayer, God "is doing for us more that we can ask or imagine."
That's why Jesus calms the sea before he asks his disciples why they were afraid. He sympathizes and understands them, but wants to turn their rough fear and general sense of needing into a directed desire for the help of the One who is wholly trustworthy.
Jesus cares, and can help. We need to trust him.
Let us pray.
Saving God,
entering the flood and storm
of chaos and confusion:
speak peace to our fearful hearts
that we might find our faith
in him whose word
brings rest to all creation;
through Jesus Christ, Lord of wind and wave.
Amen.
(Steven Shakespeare, Prayers
for an Inclusive Church, pg.63)
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