Fireground, Adelaide Hills

Man Overboard!

Week of Sunday  24 June - Pentecost 4
Gospel: Mark 4:35-41

 On that day, when evening had come, he 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 gale 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?’

Jonah 1:4-6,15

But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and such a mighty storm came upon the sea that the ship threatened to break up. 5Then the mariners were afraid, and each cried to his god. They threw the cargo that was in the ship into the sea, to lighten it for them. Jonah, meanwhile, had gone down into the hold of the ship and had lain down, and was fast asleep. 6The captain came and said to him, ‘What are you doing sound asleep? Get up, call on your god! Perhaps the god will spare us a thought so that we do not perish.’ ....   15So they picked Jonah up and threw him into the sea; and the sea ceased from its raging. 

In my first parish, the wind became too strong, and the waves too great.  There is always too much to do, for a minister. I had been deceived into thinking I must save the place, so I was exhausted; no sleeping in the back of the boat for me. I had also been trying to carry us through a family crisis for many months, and was beginning to crumble.

The final shame was to ring my parish colleague, Cliff, at 6pm on Sunday night, and say I could not take the evening service. It was all organised, there was a sermon fully written out, prayers fully scripted, projector slides produced, but I could not do it. It would all be waiting for him at the church. I drove across to Clovelly Park swamped in pain, and rage, and shame, knowing I would never be able to stand in front of a congregation again.

I rang another colleague, Stephen Koski, the next morning; it was probably his day off, poor bloke, and asked to see him. Could he help me put myself on sick leave, and try to sort out the mess I was in? I was not “at the end of my tether”; the rope was broken and I was sinking fast!

Stephen threw himself overboard for me. He gave me his sermons from the past six weeks, and said, “See if you can just read one of these out at church next week. Can you do that, and choose four hymns? Don’t do anything else. Just go home and stop. Come back and talk to me next week. Don’t go on sick leave.”

The storm stopped. Except that it didn’t! Nothing changed except that I went home, and found a place of calm in the back of the same boat, and read his sermons. I can’t remember them, but I am still astonished at how his simple act of charity and generosity, and the hours he gave me in the next weeks, stilled the storm for me, and helped me begin to climb back on board. Nothing had changed, but the wind had lost all its power. 

The genius of the Gospel of Mark—its inspiration, we might say—is that it invites us to join our own stories to those of Jesus. We can interpret what has happened to us through his story and find echoes and similarities everywhere. Mark himself reflects the stories from which Jesus comes; the story of Jonah adds depth to our thinking about the storms of life!

In beginning of Mark, Jesus announces the coming of the Kingdom of God; a justice and peace so radically grounded in the will of God that even the wolf shall live with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid. (Isa 11) The fundamental enmities of our world will be overturned.

Jesus is not just talk; he has the goods! People are healed, evil spirits are cast out, and people are enthralled. They flock to him in joy because they see the kingdom is indeed at hand!

Of course, the powers-that-be do not want the kingdom of God. It means they will lose their kingdom! So, at the beginning of Mark 3, the Herodians go out with the Pharisees to work out how to destroy him. Old enmities are overturned as they unite in a blasphemy against the kingdom of God. (3:6,28) How symbolic are those words... “the Pharisees... went out!?”

If I could draw this in a graphic novel, the sun drenched colours of the Australian bush would begin to gather the deeper hews  that come at the end of summer, when bushfire and thunder threaten us. In chapter four, as Jesus teaches with the parables of the seeds, those who have come out from the city to listen, keep wondering about the rumbling of a freight train, where there are no trains. And the country folk say, “No. It’s thunder. No clouds yet, but it’s brewing.”

At the end of chapter four, hell breaks loose. Out on the deep, in the place of elemental evil, something greater than the power of Pharisees and politicians, seeks to destroy him. In the terror, though, Jesus is asleep! Not asleep at the wheel, as the disciples think, but at rest, in the safety of God.

 “Don’t you care we are perishing?!” is both  fear and accusation. It fears what life throws at us, and it accuses the God who seems to be unconcerned. Jesus is not merely unconcerned that a storm is brewing; the boat is already being swamped! (4:37) We’re sinking; it’s over, and he’s asleep! And yet somehow, when we go to see him, he is just as Stephen was for me: Peace, be still.

So in my graphic novel, there will be a panel, just one, of idyllic calm on the lake. Then, as the fifth chapter begins, the Gerasene Demoniac will be there, the colours lurid and the shadows deep, as evil, defeated for a moment, lashes out again.

Again, Jesus will resist, and there will be calm as the demoniac sits at his feet, clothed in his right mind. Jesus will get back in the boat, and cross back to his own people across  the same lake, which is now tamed for the moment. How do you draw triumph?

He will go calmly to the house where the girl is dying, not quite asleep on the cushion, but with time to stop and heal a woman. And when it seems this calm pause has given time for evil to extinguish the life of the little girl, he will raise her from death. It’s the ultimate reversal of evil; instead of taking away life, this man gives it. But his own town reject him, anyway. (6:1ff)

How do we find Jesus for ourselves in this great drama that can seem far removed from us? It can seem like another world, while we are here, on our own, in a sinking boat. Perhaps our hope lies in reversing the attitude of Jesus’ own town, which knew he was just the son of the carpenter. (6.3)

The people who found calm in the midst of the storm “took him with them in the boat, just as he was.” (4:36) I’m relying on a particular English translation here, (NRSV) but it holds a truth. Will we take Jesus just as we find him?

As a “go getting” young American minister in Adelaide in the nineties, Stephen Koski was the source of some good old Aussie prejudice and scorn. “Isn’t he the American? We’ve had them here before...  and they took offense at him.” (6:1-6)

I was desperate, and had to take him as he was.  And for a few weeks, he was Jesus to me, and the storm was stilled.

We don’t use the word very often in the Uniting Church, but the Nave—is the body of the church. It’s where the pews are, where we sit. It’s has the same root as the word Navy. It’s the boat of the church. Jesus gets into the boat with the church in the story this week. We will find him in the church, in those odd folk we know only too well...

Dorothy McCrae has written an affirmation of faith which ends in the church. Beginning with God, “source of all life, source of all love,”

it concludes like this:

We believe in the church;
born of our struggles
open to changes
centred in loving
the  moving and growing
heart of the community turned to the world

Jesus is here.


Andrew Prior
Direct Biblical quotations in this page are taken from The New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Please note that references to Wikipedia and other websites are intended to provide extra information for folk who don't have easy access to commentaries or a library. Wikipedia is never more than an introductory tool, and certainly not the last word in matters biblical! 


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Janet 22-06-2012
Thanks for sharing, Andrew; some really interesting thoughts. My difficulty, I guess, is that I can't say the things you say because I don't believe them. I suppose I could begin by saying: "Most of the miracle stories--whether they're about calming the seas or raising a dead girl to life aren't TRUE stories. They're told to bring a message about Jesus, about God. When our lives are in turmoil, God can bring us peace in the midst of it all, healing for our parched and damaged souls." Then I might tell a story such as the one you told about your colleague, Steve, That would work for me. I just can't share all those stories AS IF they were true because, for me, they're not. Metaphors, maybe; not reality. So many people in today's world are looking for miracles and wondering why they stopped. No one needs to expand on that statement by reminding me that miracles happen all the time; I know they do. Birth is a miracle, etc. And while people might be resuscitated by medical personnel, that's not the same as taking hold of a corpse and helping them to rise. Nor is it the same as calming tumultuous seas. Again, I appreciate your thoughts, if only to expand upon my own.

re: But....
Marion 22-06-2012
Janet, While I understand where you're coming from and what you mean when you say a miracle story isn't "true&", it bothers me a bit also. The English language (even the American versions ) is so inadequate for speaking about faith matters, I find. The English language is good for things that are "black and white"; in their meaning, but not so good for expressing what is in between. To me, though, there's a difference in what is "true", meaning did it actually happen the way it's written, and "true", meaning that it tell us something that is truth. I think the miracle stories are definitely true in the second sense, even when I can't quite see how they could possibly have happened. I'm in the same dilemma when I want to use the word "real" or "reality". How can we make the difference clear for the people we preach to? If I said what you suggest about the miracle stories, I'd be wondering if anyone listening is asking themselves, "How can a lie tell me something about God?": I want people to know that the Bible stories aren't lies. Someone said that miracles haven't stopped. The difficulty is what we see as miracles. He gave an example of starting out one day feeling really "down" and unexpectedly meeting someone whose greeting and smile immediately lifted his spirits. He called that a miracle - something unexpected and unexplainable. "When our lives are in turmoil, God can bring us peace in the midst of it all, healing for our parched and damaged souls." Isn't that a miracle? Marion

re: But....
Andrew 22-06-2012
I think the truth of your post, Marion, is seen in the fact that I would be most surprised if Jesus did get up and still the storm as a matter of literal fact. That was not what I had in mind... I was a little surprised by Janet's assumption... but going back and rereading it, I see Janet's conclusion that I do think it happened is quite reasonable. Mark is telling a story... Probably he thought it was literally true... I guess... The issue for me is whether there is any truth in it today; is it a metaphor which has real power... So I want to ask people on Sunday... do you feel this? As you seek to follow Jesus... do you find times when the storms are calmed? My witness is that sometimes, like the time with Stephen, they are. If I were discipling my life in another direction; eg. having lots of money, I think the storms seem to go on longer and have a lot more power. Andrew

re: But
Diane 23-06-2012
If we do not believe these things to be true, are we - in fact - limiting God's power, whether or not it happened in reality?

Re: But...
Andrew 23-06-2012
Diane, I think the short answer is "No." You could say we are talking about what God does, not what God could do. The long answer is much longer. It would say that God who intervenes to make storms on lakes is not a God well imagined. We simply cannot imagine a God like that in our age, not with theological consistency, anyway. It's a major change in thinking. You can see in my sermon for the week how I try and speak to both groups of people in my congregation. Some believe God does these things, some don't. That is here: For more reading, you could try these pages, although they are fairly radical, and I am not sure I would go quite so far in some areas if I were writing today: Look, in particular, at items 4 and 5 about the Big Shift. Please feel free to contact me via this box if you want to talk more offline. Andrew

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