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In It Together
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21 June 2009 It is no secret that our son Aaron has become a huge fan of kayaking–and is doing his best to create the same enthusiasm for the sport in Kate. I’m a huge fan of her good nature and willingness to give it the attention Aaron thinks it deserves. Not that Kate is his only inductee. When Jeffry and Emily were down over Memorial Day holiday, Aaron took Jeffry out on the waters too...and they both lived to tell about it. Which is not to say they didn’t have their moments. When Jeffry capsized in water that was moving more swiftly than he recognized, some of their gear never made it back. Experience can be a hard teacher...but it also can make us more attentive to the things we are trying to do.... The early church was trying to be faithful to Jesus’ ministry, to his life and teachings, by practicing the things the disciples learned in their one-year apprenticeship. (Parenthetically, I know that it’s commonly thought that Jesus’ ministry lasted three years, but Matthew, Mark, and Luke write of only one Passover. It’s John that inserts the extra two years, mostly as a literary device to heighten the path to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.) But before there was any written record, in the roughly twenty years before the writings of Mark, Matthew, Luke and John, even before the letters of Paul–the oldest writings in our Christian scriptures, the disciples and the early church were something like Jeffry, thrown into the waters of a different understanding and practice of faith, a faith marked by compassion for others, a faith marked by sharing what they had in common, a faith marked by reaching out to friends, family, and strangers...a faith marked by reaching out beyond their comfort zone, even to Gentiles. Like Jeffry’s first turn at kayaking, the early church knew something about what they were doing. Jeffry is certified for scuba, as well as for piloting a small research boat in open waters. He’s a strong swimmer; he is comfortable around water. So a kayak trip? Great! Only a kayak isn’t a research boat. And it certainly isn’t an air tank and flippers. Even with all of Jeffry’s familiarity with the waters, it takes some getting used to the dynamics of balance and paddling and a rain-swollen river. In the same way, the first disciples were practicing Jews, and their understandings of the faith to which they gave their lives were grounded in Jewish theology, ritual, and symbol. Yet even with their grounding in Jewish faith, even with their year-long apprenticeship with Jesus, staying afloat in the early church took getting used to increasingly challenging dynamics. So we have this powerful exorcism story about Jesus calming the storm. A story in which Jesus (not the disciples) proposes that they leave the gathered crowds–that is, leave their Jewish comfort zone, and go to the other side of the lake–expand the ministry to the Gentiles. The disciples aren’t the only ones out there. Other boats, perhaps other faith practices are on the waters, and no matter how inviting the waters are at the edge of the shore, they soon are anything but calm. Forces outside the boat, forces outside the faith community threaten to swamp it entirely. We know that reality. In just this week, we’ve watched and read with a flicker of hope and more than a little anxiety as Iran staged its election. We have prayed for those defying clerics and military and government forces alike, and we have prayed for those in positions of authority and leadership, that the common good may be served. We’ve watched and read with grief as racism and hatred took its ugly toll on Special Officer Stephen Johns and the memorial museum to the Holocaust that bears its name. We’ve seen the unemployment rolls continue to climb in the District even as we are seeing glimmers of a turn-around for this recession. We’ve seen a six-month increase in refugees and internally displaced persons rise from 26 million human beings at the end of 2008 to a current estimate of 44 million people. And we haven’t even touched the ongoing degradation and annihilation of other forms of life on this fragile blue planet. These realities alone are life-threatening enough to swamp the small boat of any individual congregation, any gathering of those committed to following Jesus, and it is precisely to us that Mark writes. This is an unusual story in Mark. Jesus is alone with his followers, which tells us that he is speaking directly to the church. Yes, the church is out in the storms of reality because that’s what Jesus commands, and yes, Jesus is with the church–but did you catch it?–the church acts as if it’s out there on its own. Jesus is in the stern–on “the pillow” where the pilot sits, asleep, as the storm comes up.[2,112] In the storm, the disciples turn to Jesus: “Teacher.” In Mark, “the power Jesus exercises over the storm is that of the ‘Teacher’.”[1,320] It’s Mark’s title for Jesus both when he teaches and when he casts out demons–Jesus is “the teacher who exorcises and Jesus [is] the exorcist who teaches.” Mark places “Jesus’ power in his words,...telling us that whatever storms we face, Jesus’ word is still present, and it is a word of power.”[1,320] That word stills the storm. But it is not the end of the story. In response to the disicples’ (or the church’s) criticism, Jesus also issues a challenge and criticism of his own: Why are you afraid? Where is your faith? This is the point at which the disciples are filled–not with awe as our insipid translation puts it–but literally, fearing a great fear. The storm, the realities of life-threatening forces beyond their power and control concern them, no question. But in their presence is one whose word reorders the powers swirling around him, and they are afraid. The question becomes one of identity. Are the disciples/Jesus’ followers to be part of this same reordering of power? Is that the faith to which they–and we–are called? And if the answer is yes, then the christological question, the “who is this, then,” question is not so far off the mark. Exorcisms of personal demons, healings of individuals are one thing; it’s personally gratifying to learn the arts of healing. But exorcism, stilling the forces of chaos are quite another. When the disciples recognize Jesus’ authority extends beyond the personal, they also have the first glimmerings that the limits and boundaries they had set for him and for themselves are not fixed where they had thought.[2,113] This story is not–as our hymn suggests–a story of storm, fear, then at Jesus’ word, calm. The story is a story of mission, storm, concern, calm, and fear. The story is a story of a profoundly new understanding of who Jesus is, and the word he brings to the chaos of all the powers that threaten human existence. And the story is a story of a profoundly new understanding of who we disciples are as Jesus’ followers. There are multiple ramifications to these understandings, and I hope we will continue to explore them together. But this much is clear: there is no question that the early church, and Jesus–and we–are in it together, learning to navigate changing waters. *** [1] Craddock, Fred B., et al, Preaching Through the Christian Year B, Trinity Press International, © 1993, pages 320-321. |