St.Mary's Episcopal Church, Barnstable, MA

The Third Sunday after Pentecost
June 21, 2009
Mark 4:35-41
The Rev. Dr. Kris Lewis

Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may we set our sails to capture that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen

Why are you afraid?

These are the words I often hear when I mention that I don’t like to fly—that, in fact, I avoid flying whenever possible, preferring to have my feet firmly planted on the ground. Sometimes others commiserate with me, often I hear all the statistics about how flying is the safest form of transportation, but the bottom line is always the same:

Why are you afraid?

This was the response Jesus made to his disciples, too, after he calmed the roiling seas and stilled the ferocious winds that rocked their boat.

Why are you afraid?

I’m guessing that just as I wonder what isn’t perfectly obvious about why I’m afraid to fly—in a little metal tube high up in the air, hello?—the disciples must have felt like saying, “Duh—look at that storm. Did you really need to ask why we’re afraid?”

The story of Jesus calming the seas, like the story of David and Goliath that we heard in our OT reading, is a familiar tale, and like the story of David and Goliath, it is one that conveys the awesome power of God, a power often enacted in surprising ways, using the most unlikely of characters. But this story of Jesus calming the sea is not just about power; rather it one piece of a narrative dealing with what Jesus’ ministry means, and how his disciples—then and now—react to it. And so it behooves us, I think, to take another look, paying attention to some of the nuance Mark employs in his narrative.

Our story picks up at the close of a long day of preaching and teaching on the shores of the lake, when a weary Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us cross to the other side.” Jesus quickly falls asleep on a cushion in the back of the boat, leaving the piloting to his disciples, at least four of whom were fishermen. While Jesus sleeps, a storm comes up, quickly as can happen in that area, and the boat, buffeted by winds and waves, begins to take on water. The disciples are terrified, sure that they are about to go to a watery death, when they notice that Jesus is still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm and of their terror. So they awaken him, roughly no doubt, and cry out to him, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” Jesus quickly rebukes the storm, and immediately the storm ceases, and there is dead calm.

And Jesus asks, “Why are you afraid?”
Did you notice this? When the disciples awaken Jesus, they do not cry out, “Save us!” They don’t ask for help; rather they say, “Don’t you care?” “Don’t you care what is happening to us?” Jesus’ quick response is to end the storm, indicating that he did understand what they feared. And note that he did not ask what they were afraid of but WHY they were afraid. The key to understanding what Jesus was really getting at comes in his next question; “Have you still no faith?”

“Have you still no faith?” Despite Jesus’ exorcism of demons, despite his numerous healings, despite his teachings on the kingdom of God, his disciples are notoriously slow—they just don’t quite get it, their faith is lacking. They claim Jesus as their leader, as their teacher, but they don’t yet claim him as their messiah, as the Son of God. And so in the depths of the storm they cry out to him in fear not because they think he can save them, but because they think he can’t. And when he does, they are filled with wonder and awe, and ask, “Who IS this person?”

Why are you afraid?
That is the question for us as well. Not WHAT are we afraid of—in the boat of life there are storms aplenty out there to toss us around—plane crashes, swine flu, earthquakes, budget deficits, cancer, hurricanes, unemployment, hunger—things to fear abound—but why are we afraid? Because the message in today’s gospel is this: Just as the disciples in the boat with Jesus had no reason to fear—even if the boat had sunk—if we have faith in Jesus, we are not alone, and we need not be afraid.

That’s right, we need not be afraid.

We need not be afraid because ultimately Jesus is there for us. No matter what the storm, what the adversity, we can rest assured that Jesus is right there with us as long as we have faith.

And notice this—Jesus did not command the disciples to look inward, to call upon their hidden reserves to sustain themselves. Instead he provided both solace and salvation, and he promised that both would be available to all who come to him in faith. We are not alone, and we do not have to rely on ourselves, because God is with us. No matter what.

The English novelist Emily Bronte lived and wrote while living in a rectory on the bleak moors of Yorkshire while dealing with a demented father and an alcoholic brother. Despite these grim surroundings and her own poor health, she wrote poetry and stories that envisioned a different world, and she published Wuthering Heights, which lives on as a literary classic. Much of her poetry was lost, but in one that remains, she writes:

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

In the dark of the night when our fears grip us, when we stare into the face of illness or adversity, when we feel lost and alone, Jesus is with us. He is there to help us to see Heaven’s glories shine, and he is there, through our faith to arm us from the fear that would enslave us. All he asks of us is faith—trusting in him, relying on him, living in the way that he calls us to live. What he offers us in return is just what he offered the disciples in the boat on that storm tossed sea: solace and salvation—now and into eternity.

Amen.

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Sermons at Saint Mary's The Third Sunday after Pentecost June 21, 2009 Mark 4:35-41 The Rev. Dr. Kris Lewis Almighty God, the breeze of your love and grace is ever blowing; may we set our sails to capture that breeze, and may it inspire these words and those who hear them. Amen Why are you afraid? These are the words I often hear when I mention that I don’t like to fly—that, in fact, I avoid flying whenever possible, preferring to have my feet firmly planted on the ground. Sometimes others commiserate with me, often I hear all the statistics about how flying is the safest form of transportation, but the bottom line is always the same: Why are you afraid? This was the response Jesus made to his disciples, too, after he calmed the roiling seas and stilled the ferocious winds that rocked their boat. Why are you afraid? I’m guessing that just as I wonder what isn’t perfectly obvious about why I’m afraid to fly—in a little metal tube high up in the air, hello?—the disciples must have felt like saying, “Duh—look at that storm. Did you really need to ask why we’re afraid?” The story of Jesus calming the seas, like the story of David and Goliath that we heard in our OT reading, is a familiar tale, and like the story of David and Goliath, it is one that conveys the awesome power of God, a power often enacted in surprising ways, using the most unlikely of characters. But this story of Jesus calming the sea is not just about power; rather it one piece of a narrative dealing with what Jesus’ ministry means, and how his disciples—then and now—react to it. And so it behooves us, I think, to take another look, paying attention to some of the nuance Mark employs in his narrative. Our story picks up at the close of a long day of preaching and teaching on the shores of the lake, when a weary Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us cross to the other side.” Jesus quickly falls asleep on a cushion in the back of the boat, leaving the piloting to his disciples, at least four of whom were fishermen. While Jesus sleeps, a storm comes up, quickly as can happen in that area, and the boat, buffeted by winds and waves, begins to take on water. The disciples are terrified, sure that they are about to go to a watery death, when they notice that Jesus is still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm and of their terror. So they awaken him, roughly no doubt, and cry out to him, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” Jesus quickly rebukes the storm, and immediately the storm ceases, and there is dead calm. And Jesus asks, “Why are you afraid?” Did you notice this? When the disciples awaken Jesus, they do not cry out, “Save us!” They don’t ask for help; rather they say, “Don’t you care?” “Don’t you care what is happening to us?” Jesus’ quick response is to end the storm, indicating that he did understand what they feared. And note that he did not ask what they were afraid of but WHY they were afraid. The key to understanding what Jesus was really getting at comes in his next question; “Have you still no faith?” “Have you still no faith?” Despite Jesus’ exorcism of demons, despite his numerous healings, despite his teachings on the kingdom of God, his disciples are notoriously slow—they just don’t quite get it, their faith is lacking. They claim Jesus as their leader, as their teacher, but they don’t yet claim him as their messiah, as the Son of God. And so in the depths of the storm they cry out to him in fear not because they think he can save them, but because they think he can’t. And when he does, they are filled with wonder and awe, and ask, “Who IS this person?” Why are you afraid? That is the question for us as well. Not WHAT are we afraid of—in the boat of life there are storms aplenty out there to toss us around—plane crashes, swine flu, earthquakes, budget deficits, cancer, hurricanes, unemployment, hunger—things to fear abound—but why are we afraid? Because the message in today’s gospel is this: Just as the disciples in the boat with Jesus had no reason to fear—even if the boat had sunk—if we have faith in Jesus, we are not alone, and we need not be afraid. That’s right, we need not be afraid. We need not be afraid because ultimately Jesus is there for us. No matter what the storm, what the adversity, we can rest assured that Jesus is right there with us as long as we have faith. And notice this—Jesus did not command the disciples to look inward, to call upon their hidden reserves to sustain themselves. Instead he provided both solace and salvation, and he promised that both would be available to all who come to him in faith. We are not alone, and we do not have to rely on ourselves, because God is with us. No matter what. The English novelist Emily Bronte lived and wrote while living in a rectory on the bleak moors of Yorkshire while dealing with a demented father and an alcoholic brother. Despite these grim surroundings and her own poor health, she wrote poetry and stories that envisioned a different world, and she published Wuthering Heights, which lives on as a literary classic. Much of her poetry was lost, but in one that remains, she writes: No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven's glories shine, And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. In the dark of the night when our fears grip us, when we stare into the face of illness or adversity, when we feel lost and alone, Jesus is with us. He is there to help us to see Heaven’s glories shine, and he is there, through our faith to arm us from the fear that would enslave us. All he asks of us is faith—trusting in him, relying on him, living in the way that he calls us to live. What he offers us in return is just what he offered the disciples in the boat on that storm tossed sea: solace and salvation—now and into eternity. Amen. top \| home \| site index