Mark 4:35-41 "The Perfect Storm"

         There was a Native American chief on a remote reservation in South Dakota whose tribe asked him if it was going to be a cold winter. He did not want everyone to know he had not the slightest idea how to predict the weather, so he snuck away and called the National Weather Service.

         The forecaster told him, “We are fairly certain that it is going to be a cold winter.” So the chief went back to his Council and confidently told the others to collect a lot of firewood in preparation for a cold winter.

         A few weeks later, the chief called the National Weather Service and asked the forecaster again about the upcoming winter months. This time the forecaster said, “We are more certain now that it is going to be a very cold winter.” So the chief told the tribe to collect even more firewood.

         A few weeks later, as the first snowflakes of the season began to fly, the chief called the forecaster one more time and asked for a final update on the winter weather. The forecaster said, “We are now more certain than ever that this will be one of the coldest winters we have ever had.”

         The chief asked, “How can you be sure?”

         The forecaster replied confidently, “The Indians are collecting firewood like crazy!”

         Weather forecasting has never been a perfect science – not today - and certainly not in first century Palestine when Jesus lived.  Keep that in mind as we join our Rabbi after a long day of preaching, teaching, and healing.  The crowd of well-wishers, caregivers, curiosity-seekers, hangers on, and hope-filled ailing men and women continued to press in upon him, and when all was said and done, he was dog tired. 

         And so Jesus suggested leaving both the shoreline and the crowd behind and embarking on a twilight cruise on the Sea of Galilee, crossing over to the other side for a picnic dinner round a driftwood campfire.  The sky was a rosy red and, after all:  “Red sky in the morning sailors take warning, red sky at night, sailors’ delight.”  And so they set out in the little dinghy with the red paint chipped off the bow.

       Now, the Sea of Galilee is a fresh water lake that sits about 600 feet below sea level making it the lowest lake in the world. It is about fourteen miles long and about seven miles wide and is shaped like a harp. It is known for its unexpected and often turbulent storms.  On a clear night, it should have taken the disciples about three hours to sail or row across the lake.   But this night, of course, turned out to be different. 

         They might have been sailing for an hour – maybe more, maybe less – when the first drops of rain began to fall intermittently as the disciples sang “Holy, Holy, Holy” and “How Great Thou Art” in two part harmony, interspersed with slightly more bawdy sailor songs.  However, the rain picked up steadily along with the wind until before long you could not hear “Amazing Grace” even when the disciples belted it out with great gusto.

         And then all-of-a-sudden, it hit them.  They were out in the middle of the forever-fickle Sea of Galilee in the teeth of an emergent gale.  Though none of them – not even the fishermen - knew anything about the laws of physics, they all sensed they were in deep trouble.

       After all, if a boat heads directly into a wave that is higher than the boat is long, the boat will almost certainly “pitchpole,” meaning that it goes end over end to its doom. Or, if a wave hits a boat broadside, and if that wave is higher than the boat is wide, the boat will flip and capsize.  If the disciples had seen the movie “A Perfect Storm”, they would have concluded that their boat, like the Andrea Gail, would eventually head into swells so high that it would similarly pitchpole and sink to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee, taking the twelve and Jesus along with it.

         The moment of that horrific realization was also the moment the crew discovered that Jesus was sleeping through the whole nasty adventure, his head resting comfortably on a pillow in the stern of the boat.  Whereas in the Gospel of Matthew, the disciples immediately go down on their knees and pray for deliverance, in Mark’s version of the story, they simply freak out in the chaos.

         They jostle Jesus with a desperate wake-up call that does not say much about either their faith or Jesus’ behavior in the face of such clear and present danger. ““Teacher, doesn’t it matter to you that we are perishing?”   "Hey, we're dying here! Don't you care?

         Jesus, for his part, awakens, and it is this land-lubber who seems unafraid in the midst of the wind and the rain.  He immediately assumes a level of authority so foreign to the disciples that all they could do was try to keep their balance in the wildly pitching boat and just stare at him. With these few choice words, Jesus put the wind in its place and commanded the sea: “Silence!” he shouted above the howling and crashing.  “Be still!”

         Surely the Gospel writer was thinking of one of the ancient psalms of Israel – Psalm 107 to be exact – when he wrote down this tale.  That is the psalm where sailors are facing a storm on the sea, and they “cried out to the LORD in their trouble.” Then the LORD made the storm ‘be still,’ “and the waves of the sea were hushed.”   And so in Mark’s version of this story, after Jesus spoke with such authority, there was a moment of the “great calm”, as the Gospel writer – and the Psalmist - term it.

         And that was also the moment when the disciples pondered the origins of Jesus’ authority. “Who then is this guy?” they asked. That was the moment when they were truly terrified, as the Gospel writer tells us.  Terrified rather than relieved?  Terrified rather than in awe?  Yes, terrified!  Why?  Simply because that was the moment when they realized that their lives were never going to be the same.

         You know, there are endless ways to reflect on this text.  Preachers do have a tendency, however, to look to allegory and give special meaning to the boat along with everything else in the passage.  You have probably heard most – if not all - of such sermons. The bottom line in each of them is that there is far more going on in this story than simply being out with Jesus on a stormy evening.  The boat, the sea:  They all mean something.

         Lutheran pastor Karoline Lewis attacks this allegory approach.  Some of the questions this kind of interpretation raises, she writes, are “What boats are you in at this point in your life? What are the storms that are tossing your life around?

         None of this is necessarily bad (she notes). It’s just that the boat becomes a metaphor for all kinds of things rather than simply what it is -- a traveling vessel. A means by which to get from one place to another. Maybe the boat is simply a boat. Maybe the point is that Jesus is just trying to get us to the other side.”

        And if the boat in the narrative is just a boat and if Jesus is really just trying to get us from one side to the other, then maybe one way to look at this story is that it is about change.  After all, when you come right down to it, most of us would rather just stay put, not step out deeper into the waters of faith, but settle comfortably into where we are right now – in a place, in a job, in a marriage, in a vocation.

         If we are not reveling in our passion, if we are not happy with ourselves - or content with our lot - we have decided – either consciously or unconsciously – that it is probably better to remain in our safe harbors and certainly better not to rock the boat. That seems to be human nature: Go along to get along rather than risking or embracing change.

         However, as Karoline Lewis goes on to suggest, “But it also seems to be the nature of faith. We can’t seem to hear Jesus’ invitation – ‘Let us go across to the other side.’

         How easy it is to stay in our comfort zones; to default to our pet theologies; to remain in what is known, even though that which is known has become unbearable. We would rather ignore the desperate need for change than make the change happen. So we sit. And we wait. For what? The right time?  For someone else to make the first move? (Lewis asks).  Maybe this is why Jesus doesn’t give the disciples any time to think about the trip – ‘On that day … ‘ We would think about it forever. ‘Thinking about it’ is always one of our best excuses,” (she concludes).

         You know, in this passage, we often focus on ourselves as individuals and how, as individuals, we are called to embrace change.  However, since Jesus does not single out a particular disciple in the teeth of the storm and all twelve of them – the whole darn family - are in the boat together, perhaps we should focus less on our own individual lives and more on our life together – as a church family.

         You see, our congregation is facing two instances this year where Jesus has already invited us to get in the boat and come to the other side.  The first instance is reflecting on the role of music in worship and employing someone to help us fulfill our goals in this area.  The second instance is broader, and it is reflecting as a church family on who God is calling us to be as the United Church of Christ in Raymond and just how we are going to live out that calling. 

         When it comes to the first instance, music here in church, I know that we are saddened by the lack of a music anchor, such as Karen was employed to be. 

However, I was excited meeting with the choir last Sunday and realizing that they were not looking on this transition time fearfully but rather saw it as an opportunity to explore different styles of music here in worship and different models for coordinating and directing our music program. 

         During this transition time, in addition to Cherie, Lori, Brenda Olsen, and Craig stepping up to play our hymns and responses, we will have at least one guest pianist and several accomplished musicians with us over the next few weeks.  Cherie will be accompanying an oboist in doing several classical pieces.  We have a guitarist scheduled to come and offer special music on several occasions.  He is very interested in exploring jazz settings for traditional hymns.  Our Adult Choir will be singing on occasion as will our Very Occasional Men’s Choir, and Scott will be playing his trumpet on Easter as he often does. 

         I have encouraged people to put together small groups and ensembles for worship – or singing solos as Lori has so beautifully this morning.  For a real change of pace, I am working out the details to bring the Slukes here.  That is the local ukulele group – who, among many other songs, do gospel music.  We may also be hearing – if only on CD – from our now grown up Youth Choir of several years ago – as well as singing along with some video presentations. 

         My hope is that all of you will approach these musical experiences with the same openness and enthusiasm as the Adult Choir has.  My hope is also that you will not cherry pick your Sundays here and make decisions on attendance based on your unwillingness to leave where you are and travel to the other side to experience a different style of church music and be part of this conversation on music and worship.

         The second instance where Jesus has invited us to contemplate change (that is, leave our safe harbors and venture out to sea) is the challenge to articulate who we are as a church and who we want to be in all the communities of which we are a part.  Call it what you want:  We will be engaging in visioning, strategic planning, mapping out a future, or whatever.  All of these sorts of conversations imply change, moving out of our comfort zone, leaving behind the way church used to be, redefining church, and journeying to places unknown. 

         However, to be successful, these conversations cannot be ones that I as your Pastor have with myself, or your Council has with itself.  Every single one of you is a stakeholder in deciding who and what this church is going to be in the future.  As plans for these conversations emerge, I hope that all of you will feel called to participate in them – to be open to getting in the boat and traveling to the other side. 

         In closing, however, because I do not want to leave you overwhelmed by what will come, let me say two things.  First, as Lutheran pastor David Lose reminds us:  “Here’s the thing:  we may fear encounters with God because we fear being changed, but ignoring these encounters will change us also. There is no choice about whether we’ll be changed, it’s what kind of change, and whether we seek God’s help that it may ultimately prove transformative. “  And so, take the time now to wonder and dream about where you sense “the presence and call of God and what changes this encounter may bring and what is frightening (and even hopeful) about what is coming.”

      And second, ponder these wise words of Episcopal priest Rick Morley:  “It can’t be said enough: God never, ever, ever promises that nothing bad will ever happen. God never promises smooth sailing and blue skies every day. If you think that God promises this, you haven’t read your Bible lately.  What God does promise is that when the world comes crashing down, God is right there with us. Jesus is there with us, in the sinking boat.

         This is an important part of the story: Jesus isn’t elsewhere. He isn’t in some cush-y palace somewhere eating olives and hummus. He is in the boat with the disciples. Sinking.  And then he calms the storm. God is with you (and God is with us in this church). And all you – and we - need is enough faith to get through to the moment when Jesus speaks, “Peace. Be still.”

         That small amount of faith, of course, is essential – but equally important is remembering that the hardest part is getting into the boat in the first place, as Karoline Lewis noted.  Before you can meet Jesus, before you can get to the other side, you just have to get in the boat.