June 24th, 2012 MARK 4:35-41

MARK 4:35-41

³⁵On that day, when evening had come, he said to them,  “Let us go across to the other side.” ³⁶And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him.

³⁷A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. ³⁸But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him,  “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

 ³⁹He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. ⁴⁰He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 

⁴¹And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

***

I tend to read the line, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” in the most extreme version of,  “What gives?” Jesus is asleep while they are all bailing out the boat trying to save their lives. The least he could do would be to pitch and grab his own pail. Though come to think of it, he did not come with anything to help. He only brought what he was wearing. Jesus is the one whose idea it was to cross this often-treacherous sea at night. He was the one who wanted to go over to the other side, so he could associate with people with whom we don’t usually associate. Yeah, he heals people, but I really doubt he can calm the wind and the sea. Darn it get up and help us bail Jesus we are dying. That is often how I read, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Yet, there is another way to read it too, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” This way of lament is the way I have heard this phrase in hospital rooms, and with people after long oppressive struggles of years and years. The lament comes when there is no more energy for anger, and the grief underneath is an open wound. The lament comes from a place of helplessness. We know these helpless places of death, of violence, of poverty, of failing health, of broken relationships, of unemployment, of addiction, of depression, of PTSD, of mental illness, of children hungry and neglected and people abused and at war, helpless places. In these helpless places we know just how rough the sea and the wind can be. The disciples know how rough the sea and the wind can be. Many of them are fisherman. They know they face their death, a death at sea, away from loved ones, a brutal death by what was thought of in that time as demonic wind and waves. They know the grave reality of the sea versus the man. They come to Jesus and pled their lament. They are hurt by the inaction of their teacher. Many among us have been hurt by Jesus’ inaction. Perhaps, they simply want him to be present with them as they perish. They just want to know he is there. This is the lament, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

What both these approaches show is that the disciples, and we, at times, believe Jesus does not care. How can we, how can the disciples, think Jesus cares when we see Jesus is asleep while we are perishing? How can Jesus care if Jesus sleeps while we are perishing? This question is for you to struggle with and answer on your own. I don’t know if Jesus is all knowing and knew the disciples would wake him up to save the day. I don’t know if Jesus knew death was already conquered and therefore knew the disciples were already saved. I don’t know if there was some plan or lesson about the whole thing, part of me thinks the lesson was just the outcome. I wonder though if Jesus was at work in his sleep. That what better defiance to a storm than to sleep through it, to be at peace in the midst of it, and not to let it win. Perhaps Jesus was at work against the demonic sea and wind by merely peacefully sleeping. Who knows?

Yet, whether or not the disciples responded with anger or lament, once awake Jesus takes them seriously. He does not say, ‘This wind, these waves are nothing. I’m going back to bed’. He does not belittle our trials. Jesus also saw the danger and responded by reprimanding the wind and the sea, and even the doubt of the disciples. “Peace! Be still!” To say, “Peace! Be still!” seems the opposite of what is needed in the midst of a storm. If I was the angry disciples, I would wonder for what I woke Jesus up, if he only going to talk at the storm, and yell at us. If I was the lamenting disciples, I would wonder if Jesus heard my cry since he was not acknowledging my fear.  In emergency rooms fear can take over families trying to make decisions. Their brain can become flooded with panic and their thoughts immoveable. Yet, as a chaplain I had to encourage them to breathe, to be still a moment when moments were racing by, to find peace where there is no peace. Fear is paralyzing, and renders us helpless. Jesus did not respond with fear. He responded with the opposite, with peace and stillness. Maybe in the same way he did while sleeping.

Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. The wind and sea were taken over by Christ’s peace. The disciples were also taken over. Jesus had cared for the disciples when they doubted his care. He cared that they were perishing. He cared that the wind and the waves had grown too strong. He cares for you in your helplessness, he cares for you in your great storm, he cares for you when you are angry with him, and he cares for you when all you have is one last lament.

⁴⁰He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 

I don’t think this is Jesus telling the disciples the storm was not scary. It was scary; Jesus himself opposed it. I think Jesus questions the disciples fear of Jesus not caring. Where was their faith in his care? I wonder too if sometimes our fear of being uncared for is bigger than our fear of the storm. I wonder if sometimes the storm brings out our fear of being uncared for, of feeling worthless. I wonder if this story is Jesus reminding us of not only Jesus’ care but also our worth.

⁴¹And the disciples were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Who is this that can both battle the sea and the storm, yet brings peace to us. Who is this that sleeps peacefully through the storm, and cares for us? Who is this that cares for us?

I think the disciples had it easier. They were in the boat with Jesus. The scripture speaks of other boats with them, and I think our lives, as Christians today, are a little more like those in the other boats. We don’t get to see the action firsthand. We just know that we were in a great storm followed by peace. We just know that at one moment we were perishing, or even did perish, and that in the next moment we were saved. There seems much less answer to the storms of our lives than the storm of the disciples. Yet, I wonder if in the midst of our storms too, we can know that Jesus is merely in the next boat, caring for us deeply.