Sermon for the 2nd Sunday before Lent – Genesis 24b-9, 15-25; Revelation 4

Deacon Chris Saccali – St Paul’s Athens

 

SMALL BOAT , BIG SEA

 

May God be on my lips and in all our hearts Amen

It has often been said  over the last two years that we are all in the same storm. Today is Social Justice day and last Sunday marked Racial Justice. This saying which is questionable given vaccine inequity, racial justice and poverty but are we all in the same boat? There were even poems written about this you can find them online. I don’t know how you feel about both or either these sayings. The implications are huge for each of us as we traverse this sea of pandemic both individually and collectively. It is not plain sailing, we often feel we are a small boat adrift in a big sea.

Now I have to confess that I am not good in boats as my husband and son will attest. Particularly in flimsy ones and when there is any rocking movement. I feel scared and unsafe. Here I cannot help but pause and stop to think of those risking their lives to cross waters to reach a better life here in Europe or across the English  Channel. I love the sea in all conditions but on my own terms, preferably from the safety of the beach or within my depth. We have really been feeling out of our depth, haven’t we and so the uncertainty continues? This week we heard of storms Dudley and Eunice wreaking havoc in UK and Northern Europe. There was a storm and earthquake in Lefkada and the ferry fire near Corfu with a rescue operation ongoing as we speak.

So what do we have in our short Gospel reading from Luke today, a story which is much expanded upon in Mark and Matthew’s accounts of the storm at sea and the stilling of the waves? We are travelling for the first time over to the other side of the Lake where the Gentiles live. Luke, in his unique way, chooses to pair it with the narrative of the man possessed at Gerasene showing Jesus’ authority over mental health, healing and wholeness and nature. Earlier on  only in Luke 7 do we read about the raising of the widow’s son at Nain and witness Jesus ‘ power over death.

 

I got myself in hot water about comparing the three synoptic gospels and their different versions and emphasis at theological college right at the beginning of my course when I was nervous and felt out of my comfort zone anyway. The trouble was I had used the Greek as well as the English translations and got ticked off. I wasn’t trying to show off , it is just something I am wont to do because of my Classics and language background. It had to be sorted out. Let us look at how Jesus sorts  the storm out.

Here we see the disciples, who were surely used to the water, lake and sea, in a panic as a most extraordinary squall blew up, for which Lake Gennaseret, often mentioned in the gospels, is apparently renowned. It is described in Matthew like an earthquake, seismos, of which he reports quite a few and here in Luke as lailepas of wind, a whirlwind, which can also be used of fire as we experienced in the summer. Scary stuff.

Our gospel reading today is paired with readings from Genesis and Revelation both reflecting creation and the Creator God throughout scripture. Within a long strand of Old Testament tradition, the sea was especially associated with evil powers. According to an ancient creation myth, which emerges in numerous texts, when he made the world and separated out dry land, God had to combat monstrous forces of chaos that lived in or were identified with the waters of the sea. This primal battle was recalled in many verses of the Psalms and the Prophets to emphasise that only God rules the waves and can defeat evil and bring peace and order out of chaos. This is echoed is psalm 65 set for today, verse 6 says: ‘You still the raging of the seas, the roaring of their  waves and the clamour of the peoples.’  As well as the question at the end of the gospel with the disciples still afeard but in an awesome way. Awe, deos, in Greek, seems to be one of the feelings to have been lost in these times. ‘Who is this that commands even the winds and the waves and they obey him?’ In Greek: “Tis ara outos estin oti tois anemois epitasseikai to udati, kai upakousan auto ?”

We know the answer to this question voiced by the disciples this miracle is showing the divine nature and authority of Jesus but when we are in the storm and being battered about our faith can desert us too. We can believe that God has fallen asleep on us and we are left alone. Now I want you to imagine you are in the boat; where are you and what storm are you going through? How do you feel when the boat is rocked? We are going to reflect on this individually and collectively.

Let us listen to part of a reflection on this passage by Trevor Dennis from his book of gospel stories and reflections entitled God in our Midst, you may want to relax, close your eyes and let this meditation wash over you: ‘ …still we can summon from the depths of our minds the memory even- God help us-  the present reality of being on board the speck of that boat  caught in the talons of a Galilee storm in the dark of a moonlit night, sudden clouds racing over the hills, gathering unforeseen, unannounced. From all sides at once, hiding the stars, sky turned black as water, death, fathoms calling in the howl of the wind, the thin timbers, beneath our feet tossed to one side, to the other, soon to be overturned, discarded, surely.

Ancient poets, not surprisingly, spoke of gods battling the seas, and in Israel dared to sing of their God piercing the sea dragon, crushing the  monster cutting it in pieces. Their words are meant for all those overwhelmed by the dark forces of chaos that swell up from the deep, catch us unawares, curling us over, waiting to break, to swamp us quite, capsize us, drown us, pressing us down with the huge weight of the abyss.

You know what I mean. We are born to trouble, as sparks fly upward, another poet said in the book of Job, capturing a part of the human condition in a handful of words.

Yet we are born, you and I, to trust in God and find peace. The poets of the psalms sang these words also in their prayer to God. Sometimes in the pitch dark of the storm they found God hard to find. That it seemed God had fallen fast asleep. Teacher, is it nothing to you that we are perishing, they say ? they call him teacher not dreaming that they might have the mystery of God in the boat. They do not hear the echoes of those ancient prayers nor catch the irony of their own words. It is not the time to savour the niceties of language – there is too much salt on their lips, too much water threatening to spill down their throats and fill them to the brim. Yet, and yet, they speak to their teacher as if he is their God, as if he has the Creator’s ancient mastery over the forces of chaos, power to build a new world where all is well. They understand more than they know, know more than they understand, sensing his divinity in the corner of their souls. They have more faith than their story gives them credit for. Their speech is not misplaced . he wakes from sleep, this small figure with them in the boat and speaks to the wind! He can speak its language, ‘rebuke’ it, like the God of the Psalms. He talks to the sea also; puts it in its place, as does the God of Genesis and Job. ‘Peace, be still, he shouts, close your mouth.’

Suddenly weary, the wind collapses and falls, the sea lies down, a muzzle fastened on its jaws, a chain about its neck. A few words hurled into the dark and all is calm. Would that it were always so but it is not always that simple. Yet still, still we always have God with us in the boat, even if we only half recognise him, or think he is asleep and does not care. And he has, he has, he has the mastery. A man of our own times, his faith purified in the furnace of racism, wincing as a small boy at the humiliations his father had to bear, hearing them himself as the man of the wrong colour, listening to story after story after story of most fearful cruelties, still can say with all his might ‘ love is stronger than hate, life is stronger than death, light is stronger than darkness and laughter, joy, compassion, gentleness and truth are so much stronger than their ghastly counterparts .’

He and the gospel writers join hands, Desmond Tutu and the ancient storytellers who knew their Psalms so well and in the light of the resurrection dance the dance of truth, laugh the laughter of heaven.

 

And we, we have more faith than we know, more hope than we can understand. How can that not be so when we have God with us in the boat ?

AMEN