Saugatuck Congregational Church
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
June 21, 2015
Scriptures: Mark 4:35-41 and Psalm 107: 1-3; 23-31
Where do we begin, on a day like today, to name the potent connections between these two-thousand year-old texts and our storm-tossed lives? Shall we count the storms – real and symbolic – that have raged this week? The lives lost? The families divided by stormy seas? For starters: did you know that yesterday was World Refugee Day? All this week, communities around the globe have turned their attention to the staggering 11 million people who were uprooted by violence last year, adding to what has become the worst migration crisis since World War II.[1] Syrians, Iraqis; Bangladeshis and Rohingyas from Myanmar; Libyans, South Sudanese, Nigerians and Somalians; Palestinians, Colombians, Afghanis, Ukrainians … over 50M people all told, close to half of them children – many of those children unattended. Every minute, eight people leave everything behind to escape war, persecution or terror. That’s 480 people who will be displaced just during the hour that we worship together … Many of those refugees flee their homes in small, overcrowded boats, and too many of those boats capsize before they reach their destination. Can you imagine escaping the terrors of war only to face the terror of drowning? Their courage melted away in their calamity… (said the Psalmist).
Where do we begin, on a day like today, to unpack these Holy Scriptures, in the wake of the storm that tore through Charleston, South Carolina this week, when 21-year-old Dylann Roof shot and killed nine people studying and praying together at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church? Did you know that Dylann’s middle name is ‘Storm?’
How quickly and unexpectedly that particular storm descended, tearing an entire community from its moorings.
When the youth group and Pastor Alex chose this year’s mission destination, we didn’t realize that your departure would coincide with World Refugee Day. We certainly didn’t know that you would be traveling in the wake of yet another devastating attack on Black lives in our own country. Nor did I know that the scripture selected for today would be this episode about a boat caught up in a storm; about fishermen out of their depths and paralyzed by fear. But this is what happens: the ancient stories collide with our modern lives, sometimes in ways that take our breath away. So here we are: getting ready to pray our blessing on those of you who are driving north to serve with Somali refugees in Portland, ME, even as the refugee crisis intensifies around us. Here we are, sending you out to be the hearts and hands of Christ among those who have fled unspeakable violence in other parts of the globe, even as we try to wrap our own hearts and heads around the violence that has assailed a faith community just twelve hours down the coast.
What word can we send with you, as you set out? How might these ancient texts help you, help all of us, to navigate the storms that confront us in June of 2015? How might the storms help us to understand these ancient texts?
Here’s the first thing I notice: the disciples gathered together in that boat were afraid… with good reason. Jesus didn’t wake up and tell them, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” The danger was real. Waves ‘beat into the boat… It was already being swamped.’ The problem, it seems, was that their fear paralyzed them. They were fishermen; they knew the sea; but in their terror they froze. I recognize that behavior, because it’s how I respond to social conditions sometimes, conditions like 50 million refugees and mass shootings; systemic racism and too many guns and white supremacy and tyrannical governments. What are we to do in the face of demons like these?
In our distress, we cry out to Jesus: “Do you not care that we are perishing?” It sounds a bit petulant, demanding, even. “Why won’t you DO something?” (And isn’t that what we do when we feel cornered? We lash out. We blame others…). But those angry cries mask the fear that sometimes grips us: fear that we are out of our depth. Fear of pain, and suffering and death. In response, Jesus said to the disciples (says to us): “Why are you afraid?” “Why? Are you afraid for your own life – or for others’? Are you afraid of being abandoned? You are not alone. Trust God: For God is in the storm.
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating – every time: when those shots rang out at Mother Emanuel – God’s heart was the first to break. Every time those boats go down, robbing scores of refugees of the lives they have sacrificed everything to save – God’s voice is the first to wail. God is in the torrent. But it’s more than that. And here’s the second thing I discover when read this text today: God speaks to the storm. God is in conversation, not just with us, but with all creation – and has been, since the dawn of time: In the beginning, Spirit moved over the face of the water. In the Psalms, You made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Nothing is outside the scope of God’s care and attention, not even the demons.
So Jesus spoke with demons, and with stormy waves: addressed them directly: “Get out,” he said to the demons, and, “Peace. Be still,” he said to the sea. “I SEE you; I know who you are.” It’s a reminder that ours is a God of relationship – not like a puppeteer, constantly pulling the strings, but more like a midwife, fiercely, lovingly, patiently, persistently coaxing forth new life even in the most dire of circumstances. We may be out of our depth, but that’s precisely where we’ll find God hard at work. The challenge may be to let God work in and around and through us – to hand over the tiller, as it were, to let God guide us through the gale.
At Dylann Roof’s bond hearing, family members of those who were killed took the unusual step of asking to speak. One after another they addressed Dylann directly – and forgave him. They named their grief and their dismay; they acknowledged their aching hearts, and their sense of betrayal. “We welcomed you Wednesday night in our Bible study with open arms,” said Felicia Sanders, mother of 26-year old Tywanza Sanders.[2] In effect, they reminded Dylann, and each other, that there had been a relationship between them. It struck me as a profoundly humanizing encounter. Not that Dylann was absolved of responsibility for his crime; on the contrary: Those family members held him – and themselves – accountable to the one who meet us in our turmoil. Unlike the disciples, they found the courage to confront the storm, to look him in the eye and say, “I see you.” And also, “God is with us.”
How do we begin to unpack a story about a man that calms the sea with a word, in the face of storms that cause us so much dismay? Perhaps, we begin here: by recognizing that we are in the boat together – all of us. The storms that threaten our sisters and brothers, grandparents and grandchildren – they threaten us as well. We can turn away, hide from the wind, blame the demons, blame God. Or we can face into the winds, the winds of persecution, the winds of racism, the winds of violence – knowing full well that we are out of our depth, but knowing also that God never is.
So here is my word for those of you who are headed out on the mission trip today: What you are doing is courageous, and honest, real and tangible, and potentially life-changing, if you let it. Not because you are going to help others (although I know you will), but because if you look closely, you will undoubtedly get to see God at work in the lives of those you meet. Even in the pain and loss, even in the face of fear – perhaps especially there. Watch for it.
I am full of gratitude, awe and curiosity for all you are about to encounter, all you will learn from those who have experienced storm-tossed seas first hand; all that you will be able teach us in turn – about trust, and forgiveness, and the need to name the demons… and to see one another in all our humanity and to love as God loves…. Thank you for being willing to step into the boat!
Scriptures
Psalm 107: 1-3; 23-31 – New Revised Standard Version
1O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good; for God’s steadfast love endures forever.
2Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, those God redeemed from trouble
3and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south…
23Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the mighty waters;
24they saw your deeds, O Lord, your wondrous works in the deep.
25For You commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.
26They mounted up to heaven, they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their calamity;
27they reeled and staggered like drunkards, and were at their wits’ end.
28Then they cried to You in their trouble, and You brought them out from their distress;
29 You made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.
30Then they were glad because they had quiet, and You brought them to their desired haven.
31Thank you, Lord for Your steadfast love, for Your wonderful works to humankind.
Mark 4:35-41 – New Revised Standard Version
35On that day, when evening had come, Jesus 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?”
[1] “The Struggle to Respond to the Global Refugee Crisis,” New York Times International Section, Thursday, June 11, 2015 – A13
[2] ‘I Will Never Be Able to hold Her Again. But I Forgive You.’ New York Times, Saturday, June 20, 2015.