The Calm in the Storm
(Video: Delivered over the weekend of June 22-23, 2024, at St. Mary of the Lakes, Medford, NJ)
Readings: Job 38:1, 8–11, Psalm 107:23–26, 28–31, Mark 4:35–41
Imagine how bad the storm in today's gospel must have been for the apostles to be afraid they were going to die. These were experienced, professional fisherman, but if you’ve ever been in a storm at sea you know that it’s not just frightening. It’s awe-inspiring.
In the Old Testament, God speaks from all manner of things: a pillar of fire, a burning bush, a whirlwind. In today's reading from Job, the Lord speaks from a storm, a powerful force of nature.
And yet God is greater, because it was he who shut the sea within its doors, set limits for it, and commanded it. As it says in the Book of Job, God orders the waves to be stilled. It's a power reserved to God alone.
To the ancient people, the sea was a symbol of chaos and even evil. The domain of monsters like Leviathan. Behemoth. Rahav. Tannin.
But God is greater. God tames the sea. The Prophet Nahum says, God rebukes the sea. In the Gospel today, Jesus rebukes the sea.
The ability to control the sea is divine, and God's control over the waters shows that he is greater than chaos and evil.
Let's look at the scene of today's Gospel. It's a story that also appears in Matthew and Luke, but Mark uses language that encourages a very symbolic reading.
It is twilight, at the end of a long day of Jesus teaching from the back of the boat. Evening draws near. Not the best time to set out on a sea voyage, but the apostles trust Jesus, so when he says he wants to leave, they go with him.
These are men who both needed and yet feared the sea. It was their livelihood, but it could also be dangerous. Storms come up very suddenly on the Sea of Galilee, where this scene takes place.
So, Jesus and the apostles leave the crowds behind and put out into deep waters, something Christ calls us to do in the Gospel of Luke.
This time, he says Let us cross to the other side.
That's a vivid phrase. It suggests so many things. A journey. A passage from where we are to where we're going. A transition from who we are now, to who we are becoming. It can suggest the whole span of a life, and the men in those ships are about to have a life-changing moment.
A violent squall hits the boats and they begin to take on water. The apostles are frightened, and their fear is pretty reasonable. They don't yet understand what we know: that the man asleep in the stern of the boat--is also God.
Note that they call him "rabbi" here. Teacher. That's the first time they do that. They do not call him Lord or master. They are only slowly becoming aware of who he is. And they are about to get a very powerful lesson.
Christ awakes and says "Quiet, be still!" to the storm. It's similar to the commands he uses against demons. And, like the demons, the storm obeys, the waters are stilled. The entire scene, in fact, recalls the words of a Psalm (107): “In their distress they cried to the LORD, who brought them out of their peril, Hushed the storm to a murmur; the waves of the sea were stilled.”
There is no mistaking what this is. It is a revelation of Christ's divinity. He is using the power of God--to calm a storm created by the power of God.
He does not pray to God to silence the storm. He does it himself, under his own authority. This is a godlike action, and yet it is also human one, as he also calms and reassures the men. The creator of everything, has poured his divinity into a frail human frame and set it adrift in a little wooden boat to share our peril.
The apostles know their scripture. They know what they've just witnessed is a divine act, but they can't really process it, so they wonder: "Who is this?"
God became man, in part, for moments like this: to show this small band of followers that they do not need to fear--if they have faith. God travels with them.
And he travels with us as well. He speaks to us in our very human fear, our very human weakness, and says, Be not afraid. I am with you. Have faith.
Sometimes it feels as though we are storm-tossed. Our families, our nation, our world, feel battered and sinking. But in this fearful time, we need to know that the captain of the ship is in charge. Whatever happens, his faithful ones will, in the end, reach a safe harbor.
But, like the apostles, we can lose faith. Notice that after Jesus rebukes the sea, he rebukes his friends: "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?"
It's a good question for all of us. Christ lives within us through the healing waters of baptism, but we can let him fall asleep. Sometimes we enter the storm through no action of our own. Winds can blow us into those storms despite our best attempts to steer away. And sometimes we drift into them through own actions.
But that sleeping Christ is a sign of the power of God within us. The peace within us, waiting for us to call upon him.
The peace of Christ doesn't always calm the storm. But it is always the calm in the midst of the storm. At the center of our storms--his peace can be found, if we keep the faith.
And faith is what this miracle was all about. This display of divine power causes the apostles to stand in wonder and awe. At the end, they are reverent in the face of the power of God, even though they don't fully understand, yet. Their faith--and ours--is still growing.
The need for that faith is strongest during hard times, and that's when it can be most difficult. But it's during our trials--in the middle of the storm--that we often turn and call upon him. We wake the sleeping Christ, present our problems to him and say "What are you going to do about it?"
Sometimes, we just have to sail bravely through it and get to the other side. But he never abandons us. He is there, not like a mighty God stilling the sea at his command, but like a loving parent with a frightened child in the dark, whispering, to us, "Quiet. Be still." And if we trust him, all will be well.