SERMON OF JUNE 21, 2009
M. Bruce McKay
Pilgrim - St. Luke=s United Church of Christ
"In the Boat Together"
I Corinthians 4:1-13, Mark 4:35-41
We’ve got a poster from the Smithsonian hanging at our house. It’s a painting of the planet earth, with images of many different animals painted on the planet. At the top it says, “There’s no place like home.”
The poster reminds us that in some very real way we all share the same home – we’re all members of the same household. Whether we know it or not – whether we want to be or not – whether we like it or not - we’re all in this together.
The church has always understood our connectedness with one another and with creation, even if it hasn’t always functioned faithfully given this understanding.
The Latin word for the space where you’re now sitting is nave. It means ship. From the earliest days of the church, followers of Jesus have used the metaphor of a ship to describe their being in relationship with one another. The ship, or nave, became that place where they gathered each week to praise God, seek God’s guidance and open themselves to God’s presence.
Whenever Christians come together for worship in the space we call “the sanctuary” they are actually gathering in a ship – in part as a reminder that we’re all in this together – we’re all in the same boat.
We live in a culture that is constantly trying to tell us that this is not the case - a culture that denies our interdependence and worships at the altar of individualism.
We live in a culture that is toxic to the creation and cultivation of community and a sense of connectedness. This toxicity infects the church in all sorts of ways.
We see it in the insistence on proclaiming Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior.
We see it when people proudly proclaim “God helps those who help themselves” – thinking they’re quoting from the Bible, when in fact they’re quoting from Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac.
We see it when people insist that all anyone has to do is “pull themselves up by their own bootstraps” without concern for whether or not they have a pair of boots.
We see it when congregations become a spiritual home for the “right kind of people” rather than a home for all those created in the image of the God they worship.
Perhaps things weren’t so different in the first century.
Perhaps Jesus too was concerned about his disciples denying their connectedness with others – especially those who were somehow different from them.
Perhaps that’s why, “On that day, when evening had come, Jesus said to them, `Let’s go across to the other side.’”
Up until this point, in Mark’s Gospel, the ministry of Jesus has been in Galilee, with other Jews. Crossing to the other side of the Sea of Galilee meant going into Gentile Territory. It meant intentionally coming in contact with people who were different – people whom Jews normally avoided – people with whom his disciples would have seen little connection and no common destiny.
From the beginning Jesus wanted his followers to know that they were in the same boat – not just with one another but with those whom their first instinct was to label “the other.”
The disciples were following Jesus' instructions to cross the Sea of Galilee, when suddenly a storm came up.
Doing our best to be faithful in following Jesus won't always steer us around the storms. In fact it may steer us into them.
“And leaving the crowd behind, they took Jesus with them in the boat, just as he was.”
They took Jesus with them “just as he was” – not as they wanted him to be – but “just as he was” - someone who wouldn’t always steer them around the storm but at times, into it.
We may want a God who guarantees us a safe ride and a smooth journey – but that’s not the God we find in following Jesus.
The question isn’t how to avoid the storms, but rather what do we do in the middle of a storm when the boat we’re in is beginning to sink and Jesus is in the stern, asleep on a cushion.
The God we find in following Jesus doesn’t steer us around the storms, but often into them and at times it can seem as though the God who whose eye is always on the sparrow is in fact sound asleep.
So what do we do in the middle of the storm when Jesus is asleep?
Listening to our Still Speaking God through this story of Jesus stilling a storm we hear God remind us of three things.
First, God reminds us that we’re all in the boat together – with one another – not just with those who happened to be traveling with us at the moment – not just with those sitting in this ship (this sanctuary) on this Sunday morning – but with those whom Jesus has called us to visit on “the other side.”
In our case these people aren’t Gentiles living on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee.
In our case, as we remind ourselves this Sunday, those on “the other side” are refugees in Africa and the impoverished around the world – those for whom a wool blanket offers life saving warmth and a means to carry all the possessions they own on their back.
Those on “the other side” are people like the Kenmore mother I spoke with this week whose family has no health insurance. Family illnesses have created thousands of dollars in health care bills that they will never be able to pay. This woman lives in fear of the future.
She and her family are on “the other side” from all of us who happen to have adequate, affordable and accessible health care.
This morning our Still Speaking God reminds us that we’re all in the same boat together.
If waves are beating into the boat and the boat is already being swamped it will make no difference whether we’re in first class or steerage when the boat is at the bottom of the sea – because we’re all in the same boat together.
We’re all “tied,” as Martin Luther King, Jr. understood "in a single garment of destiny.”
That’s the first thing God reminds us of in this morning’s story from Mark. We’re all in the boat together with one another.
The second thing God reminds us of in this morning’s story is that Jesus is also in the boat.
Jesus didn’t send his disciples to the other side alone. He didn’t stand on the shore and wave as they set out. He wasn't watching them from a distance. He wasn't hovering above them in the heavens, observing what was happening. Jesus was in the boat with them in the middle of the storm.
Several years ago I visited someone in the hospital the day before she was scheduled to have open-heart surgery. She'd recently had a frightening coronary episode and was very anxious about the surgery. During my visit she said to me, "Please tell me that the Lord is going to be with me through this!"
We've all been there! Perhaps not in that exact same situation – but we’ve all been there, because we’re all in the boat together.
In the midst of one terrifying storm or another we've all wanted some assurance that we weren't alone - some sign of God's presence - some indication that Jesus was in the boat.
I prayed with this woman facing bypass surgery. I prayed that the Lord would reveal his presence to her in that hospital bed. I prayed that she would somehow know the blessed assurance that his love for her would never let her go.
Following the prayer the winds and waves of her anxiety and fear quieted and gave way to a profound sense of calm. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She now knew that the Lord was with her. She knew that she was not alone. She knew that Jesus was in the boat.
Our Still Speaking God reminds us this morning that we are all in the boat together with one another and with Jesus.
There’s one other thing we need to remember if we’re listening carefully to this morning’s Gospel story. It’s something I’m inclined to forget.
If someone had asked me before this week about this story of Jesus stilling the storm and inquired how Jesus woke from sleeping, I'd have said that it just happened.
I'd have said that it must have been the wind, the rocking of the waves or the splashing water that did it. I'd have said he just woke up on his own.
But that isn’t how it happened. It wasn’t the storm that woke Jesus up. It was the disciples. As Mark says clearly, "They woke him up." That's the way Matthew and Luke tell the story as well. "They woke him up!"
This is a simple, yet very serious detail in the story for two reasons.
First it suggests how soundly Jesus must have been asleep. His being sound asleep is often interpreted as a sign of his trust in God – which it surely was. But it was also a sign of his trust in his disciples – at least 4 of whom were fishermen and well accustomed to being on the sea of Galilee in all kinds of weather.
Jesus was sound asleep in the middle of the storm because he trusted God and because he trusted his disciples even though, in Mark’s Gospel especially, they never seem to be particularly trustworthy.
Instead, they are a sorry group of fear-filled, weak-kneed, bumbling knuckleheads who never quite figure out who Jesus is. In the end they "all forsake him and flee."
In this case there's no question that they're afraid, but they do at least one thing right. They wake Jesus up. It was then, and only then, that they made it through the storm - after taking some action themselves and not just leaving it in the Lord's hands.
Garrison Kiellor, the host of "A Prairie Home Companion," tells a story about growing up in Minnesota. His parents had arranged for him to have a "storm family” when he had to ride the bus from his home in the country into the town where he attended school.
His storm family was a kind, elderly couple, who, the young Kiellor imagined, were waiting with eager anticipation for the day when a heavy snow would arrive and he'd have to spend the night in town with them. When that time came, and he knocked at the door, he pictured them receiving him with enthusiastic greetings, warm embraces, and oatmeal cookies.
It didn't snow much that year, and he never went, but knowing they were there made all the difference in the world.
Garrison Kiellor told this story to point out that there are many storms in our lives and we all need somewhere to turn and someone to turn to when they arrive. We all need a storm family – a family to remind us that we are always cared for by a loving God.
The wind, the waves and the rising water filled the disciples with fear. Notice carefully what they feared the most. They weren't most afraid of the wind, the water or the waves. They weren't most afraid of their boat sinking. They weren't most afraid of drowning in the storm-tossed sea. What terrified them the most was that Jesus didn't seem to care. "Teacher," they asked, "Do you not care that we are perishing?"
In those times in our lives when it seems like we're in a sinking boat with a sleeping Jesus, our fundamental fear is that no one cares, including God.
That's why it's essential to have a storm family - a family whose presence reminds us that Jesus is not only in the boat with us - but that Jesus is awake, aware and able to quiet the storm.
Someone told me recently how important the people in our church have been in helping her through a crisis in her life. "I don't know what I would have done without them," she told me. "And I wonder what people do if they don't have a church home to help them through tough times."
Pilgrim-St. Luke's had become her storm family.
Whether our storm family is an elderly couple or a family of faith they won't be there to see us through the darkest nights or help us through the deepest valleys unless we do something to make that happen.
Storm families don't fall from the sky. They don't grow on trees. They don't appear out of thin air. They become part of our lives because we recognize their importance and we do something about it.
The parents of Garrison Kiellor found a storm family for him growing up on Minnesota.
The person I spoke with recently is an active member of our community of faith - a community she has taken responsibility for shaping into a storm family – a storm family for those who find themselves crying out in the middle of the night “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"
“Teacher, do you not care that we’re feeling hopeless!”
“Teacher, do you not care that we’re drowning in debt because we have no health insurance?”
“Teacher, do you not care that we have no blankets for our babies or for ourselves and the nights are getting colder?”
“Teacher, do you not care that violence is claiming the lives of more and more of our young people, women and children?”
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
Those in the boat together with one another and with Jesus discovered how much he cared - enough to save them from the storm - enough, in the end, to save them from all that they needed saving from.
Later, much later, following the darkness that descended on Calvary and the brightness of Easter's dawn, the first disciples of Jesus would create a community - a first century storm family - a family whose members would remind one another that Jesus is always in the boat - a family whose faith would show the world that in the end there is nothing to fear - for the One who stilled the storm loved them still - with a love that was stronger, even than death.
So what do you do, in the middle of the storm, and Jesus is asleep?
You thank God!
You thank God that we’re all in the boat together with one another and with Jesus!
You thank God that Jesus is in the boat and you wake him up!
You wake him up in the 21st century the same way the disciples did it in the first century – by creating a storm family with Christ at the center – a family whose members have known the presence and power of Jesus in their lives.
A family that is inclusive of all those created in God’s image!
A family that is committed to loving one another as God loves them!
A family that knows they are all in the boat together with one another and with Jesus - the One who was and is and always will be able to still whatever storm comes our way.
Amen!
