July 30, 2006 Sermon
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Proper 12 – B
July 30, 2006 Allan Conkling
Every week we read from the ancient and sacred scriptures, but nowhere is the contrast between the ancient world and our modern world more pronounced than when it comes to the question of miracles. Read as literal history, passages like we have this morning are quite simply unbelievable to most everyone, except maybe late night TV preachers and readers of supermarket tabloids. The story of Elijah mounting a fiery chariot, taken bodily up to heaven and Elisha, his successor who parts the Jordan river with a touch of his mantle—these are some of the best written stories of antiquity. But please don’t ask me to take it literally.
People of the ancient world readily believed in miracles, and I think we can too. However we do need to use different lenses with which to view the miracles. Personally, I believe God is still very much active and a part of our world. Fredrick Buechner writes that “Faith in God is less apt to proceed from miracles, than miracles from a faith in God,” and I think this is true. Healings as a result of prayer, a voice in a dream, supernatural deliverance or sense of protection—all of these can be explained in rational terms. But to those who are grounded in God, nothing is impossible, and miracles can inform one’s faith. Life itself is a miracle. We expect God to act. And God does act.
In order to fully appreciate our Gospel for today, we need to shift the focus from the question, “What happened?” to, “What does it mean?” What does it mean to hear of disciples rowing hopelessly in a boat? Does their aimless flailing about in a storm tossed sea in any way correspond to our times of personal chaos and struggle? What does it mean to hear Jesus say to them, “Take heart…not be afraid” Do those words speak to us where we are today? I think it does. And there is more…
The account of Jesus calming the storm and walking on the water is best known to us in the gospels of Matthew and John. There, the disciples tossed about in the storm become terrified and cry out to Jesus for deliverance. Oddly in Mark, it was not the storm they were afraid of. The rowing may have been raising blisters on their hands, but they were not afraid of anything as far as we can tell. According to Mark, they did not feel or say anything at all until they saw a figure approaching them across the water—at which point they cried out and were terrified. As I read it, the storm was not the problem. Jesus was the problem. And he continued to be even after he had spoken to them, identified himself and made the wind stop. When he did that, Mark says, they were utterly astounded…however not by the waves but by the calm. They did not understand, Mark says because their hearts were hardened. So what does it mean?
On one level (that of Matthew’s and John’s account) the miracle stands as a universal symbol of Gods abiding presence and the calming of our fears. What are the fears that we encounter today? Financial fears? Fears of a failing relationship? Fear of aging, or loss of a job? Fear of loss of control or emptiness? Those worst fears can be quelled by Jesus coming to us and saying, “Fear not.”
But what about when the one we fear is the one walking towards us? Mark says their hearts were hardened. The disciples suffered from a case of “cardiosclerosis.” Indeed, they weren’t even aware that they had a problem, until Christ came near to them, walking on the water. Jesus violated all of their categories and expectations. This is impossible! It must be a ghost, or a demon!
I would submit that over and over again Christ comes to us in ways we may not expect. Throughout the Scriptures we see God coming to us in the disguise of the stranger. Mother Teresa used to speak of seeing the face of Jesus is the face of the outcast. I wonder if Christ is walking toward us in our Episcopal Church.
We are living in a time of immense challenges and changes in the church. Many have great anxiety and fear that it will break apart. But could mean that Christ is walking toward us? When Christ approaches anything is possible! That is how I read this story.
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul calls upon his congregation to “lead a life worthy” of the calling to which we have been called:
“I beg you, lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, and making every effort to maintain the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.”
I said it last week and I’ll say it again that it is impossible for a Christian of any race, nationality, color, gender, culture, status or persuasion to look down on another person of any race, nationality, color, gender, culture, status or persuasion, and still be a follower of Christ. It is impossible. An honest reflection on Ephesians should make us more humble as a church, as a people, even as a nation. It should also make us more resistive of any groups or “networks” within our Church who desire split our denomination, to demean its members or its leaders, or exclude anyone from full and equal involvement at all levels of the church. No one should be left out of the “boat”
These are scary times, but the good news is that Christ is here with us. Already present in our “boat” as it were. In the words of St. Augustine, “He came treading on the waves; and so he puts all the swelling tumults of life under his feet.” As I said last week, when we come to that providential awareness, then real miracles begin to take place.
Copyright © 2003 Emmanuel Episcopal Church. All rights reserved.
Revised: 08/13/06