I Grew up in an Old House in the Suburbs of Boston, and I Mean Old by Midwestern Standards

Into the Storm

June 24, 2012 Mark 4:35-41

Rev. Lesley Weir

I grew up in an old house in the suburbs of Boston, and I mean old by Midwestern standards. I think the house was close to 100 years old when I moved in as a preschooler. You must realize, that back in Boston, a 100 year old house is no claim to fame, in fact it might have been considered rather “new”! I loved that house, still do. My years there were filled with wonderful elements of growing up in a close knit and devoted family. There were some aspects of the house that we would consider quirky by today’s standards. For example, the kitchen was just a big room. Oh, it had a huge sink that stood on four legs. And someone had installed a modern range in one corner. My folks had a table in the middle of the room and a desk in one corner. But no fridge, no dishwasher, no cabinets topped with counters. The fridge and cabinets were all in the adjacent narrow pantry, which connected the kitchen to the dining room. You see there had been no need for refrigerator space when the house was built….no refrigerators yet! But it did have what would have been a modern convenience back in that day. In the back vestibule, was a large metal door in the wall that opened to reveal a “box” where the ice man would deliver the large block of ice that a family would use for chilling food! I always thought that box was so cool.

But my favorite place of all in this old house was really outside. It was not a large house at all, but across the front stretched a porch, complete with pillared columns. In the spring my father would install the floor to ceiling screen panels that would create an extra room for us; the front screened porch. We lived out there all summer. I can remember my baby brother’s play pen out there. We had a toy box out there and my parents sat out there every evening after my father got home from work. But the porch was at it’s best during a thunderstorm. The skies would darken, then lightening would flash and you could see for an instant…and then eventually, the thunder would rumble and roll, louder and louder the closer the storm got. Whenever a storm would roll through, my dad would take me out on that porch and we would watch the storm. I loved the thunder, I mean just loved it. It was the best when I could feel it reverberate in my little chest. To this day, when a storm rattles overhead, I head for the top floor of the house, turn out all the lights, and watch with delight, listening with anticipation for the booms of the thunder.

I must have been in junior high before I realized that this was not everyone’s reaction to a thunder storm. In fact, quite a few of my friends (most?) talked of being frightened in such a storm. Even now, I know adults who feel quite unsettled by the flashing lightening and thunderous roar of a storm. And we all know dogs that run for cover at the first slight rumble of thunder. And they all have very valid reasons for their fears. Thunderstorms CAN BE dangerous. Lightening strikes start fires, ferocious winds topple trees, and dreaded tornadoes are born out of fierce thunderstorms. But in the shelter of the columns and roof of my front porch, with my father at my side, I could see only beauty and wonder, fear was nowhere around. It was so easy for me to go out to the porch and into the storm accompanied by my father and his encouragement. I realize now, that it was his presence, his comforting words, that allowed me to overcome whatever fears I might have as a young girl during a raging storm.

Today, our hapless band of disciples finds themselves in the midst of a raging storm at sea. They have gotten into a boat with Jesus, at Jesus’ suggestion I will add, and are heading to “the other side”. Now remember, these guys were experienced fisherman. They LIVED on the sea, in a literal sense. They were used to storms at sea, and apparently, the Sea of Galilee can get quite turbulent. Think of our own Lake Michigan, which commands our great care and respect for the same reasons. So here we find them, in the boat, in the midst of what must be quite a large storm for they are scared. And I mean very very scared. The kind of “we’re going to DIE” scared….in fact, I think that is exactly what they scream at Jesus….”Don’t you CARE that we are PERISHING????” To which he calms the sea, the winds, the storm. But not without turning to them with disbelief and asking “WHY are you afraid?” Why are you afraid? Why?

Notice, Jesus does not say to them “hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of here, this is nothing”. He doesn’t diminish the power of the storm, for I think there really was something to be afraid of….a storm that was swamping the boat with water, waves washing over the sides, soaking the fellows to the bone, tossing their vessel to and fro with great force. Yes, that storm is a powerful and dangerous thing, a fearsome thing. And Jesus never says this storm is NOT those things. For indeed, there ARE fearsome things in the world, maybe not monsters in the closet, but personal illness and death, poverty and homelessness, war and disease, oppression and injustice, the list is quite long. Powerful, dangerous things. What he says is “Why?” why are you afraid…..? Have you no faith? I think what Jesus is trying to tell them is ‘I’m with you, so calm your own fears as I have calmed the storm.” Perhaps a better question for him to have asked them would be along the lines “Don’t you know getting in the boat with me is going to take you to dangerous places?”

Because in reality, if we want to get into the boat with Jesus, this is what is going to happen. Getting into the boat with Jesus is not about a restful relaxing cruise on the Sea of Galilee or the sea of life. Getting into the boat with Jesus is about heading into the storm, heading into all kinds of dangerous places. In fact, if we go back to that simple little description in the first verse of this text “Let us go across to the other side” we find some interesting details. The “other side” was Gentile territory. For any Jew, it would have been considered not only dangerous, but inappropriate to cross over to that other side. It was also the home of the Gerasene Demoniac….a fancy term for a crazy man. A crazy man who had been tortured himself and had tormented the town’s people for years. A scary, dangerous man. Yes, Jesus invited his friends into that boat, to cross over to the other side, to cross the boundary between Jews and Gentiles, to come face to face on the other side with a crazy, dangerous lunatic. Sounds like a great cruise, doesn’t it?

So what we learn from this story is that hanging out with Jesus may be risky business. Hanging out with Jesus can be scary stuff, he will take us into scary places, he will ask us to cross dangerous boundaries, he will beg us to seek out the other side. He will lead us into the storm. So why get into that boat? Because the storms are going to come no matter what. The dangerous places of life will exist, whether we are in the boat with Jesus, or not. And like standing on the front porch with my father during a thunder storm, I would much rather enter the scary places of life in the boat with Jesus. And while it may be scary, while he may be led us into the storm, being in the boat with Jesus is the life-affirming choice. Because in the boat, we have the choice between fear and faith.

Fear is a paralyzing emotion. It limits our abilities to think creatively, to see other options. It stops us in our tracks. We even say “my heart stopped” to describe an incredibly fearful event. But faith…faith does not deny the existence of scary, fearful things. But faith lets us see possibilities. Faith allows us to imagine something different, and then go after that something. Faith allows us to turn for help, rather than surrendering and raising the white flag. Faith and fear are both reactions to a world or a situation that is beyond our control. But if we are in the boat with Jesus, we can choose to face those situations with faith, moving beyond paralysis and fear, crossing into whatever scary lands, over whatever scary boundaries and borders, Jesus calls us. His question to us is really “will you choose to live in fear, or in faith?” He speaks a word of calm and peace to the storm at sea, we have the choice to HEAR that word as well, to obey it like the storm…to get into the boat with him.

And that boat will, and should, take us into the storm. Getting into that boat with Jesus should take us into the worst storms of the world, encounters with the worst pain, suffering and injustices that exist. That boat should take us to the places most in need of Jesus’ healing touch and calming word. And we can sail there confidently, because Jesus is with us, guiding the boat in fact. In this text, Jesus’ shows us that his ministry reaches out to the “other”, perhaps even the enemy! By crossing to the other side, this text shows us that Jesus’ ministry encompasses the stranger as well as the well beloved friend. This text tells us that to follow Jesus, we will be taken to the edges, to those left to the sidelines of society, to those misunderstood, to those denied their rightful places among us, to those who are oppressed, to those whose human dignity is threatened in any way. We will be called into those places that have been left untouched by Christian hospitality, or worse, attacked by Christian so-called hospitality.

Right now there are storm clouds gathering right over our Presbyterian heads. The issue of inclusion of gay and lesbian Christians has been battling the church for decades now. Who is welcome into the worship of the congregation were the original questions. This eventually led to questions of who can be ordained into the ministry of the church. In our Presbyterian way, we have not completely answered these questions. We have created loop holes some would say, in our polity, that allows individual presbyteries to handle the question of ordination on a case by case basis. In this process, our Board of Pensions, that oversees not only clergy pensions, but also health care for church employees, has come to the decision to offer health care to domestic partnered relationships. Because not all churches or presbyteries see the issue of inclusion and ordination the same way, the Board of Pensions has provided an “opt out” provision for churches that disagree with the inclusion of all God’s children in terms of ordination.

There will be congregations that will struggle with this decision of the Board of Pensions, congregations that will feel they must opt out of this benefit.

As well, our General Assembly, the gathering of Presbyteries from across the country, will convene next weekend in Pittsburgh. Several overtures will be presented that deal with definitions of marriage and inclusion in the church. As well, there are overtures that will challenge the changes that were made two years ago to allow each individual presbytery the chance to even decide on their own whom to ordain. In other words, there are overtures whose aim is to close the so-called “loop holes” that allow Presbyteries like our own to ordain all God’s children who are called to service in the church, regardless of sexual orientation.

The situation has all the settings for a stormy time at sea. We struggle for what we term unity in the church, meaning the ability to stick together no matter what. As well we struggle for purity in the church, meaning defining what we believe as followers of Jesus Christ. Those two ideals, unity and purity are becoming difficult for many Presbyterians to hold together. In our own Presbytery, we are in the process of drafting a statement on Gracious Separation, preparing for what seems like the inevitable separation of some of our congregations from the Presbytery, because the changes that have been made, and that seem to be coming forth, are more than they can tolerate.

Yes, it looks like we are indeed heading into the storm, in Chicago, in the PC(USA), in the church universal. But I am reminded of Jesus in this story, who invited his dearest friends to get into the boat with him and to cross over to the other side. To go to unfamiliar and unknown territory, to cross cultural boundaries and borders, to enter into a place that was dangerous as well as inappropriate by the days standards. An enormous piece of the vast puzzle that drew me to St. Luke swirled around your statements of inclusivity. Both the website and the documents produced by the Pastoral Search Committee stressed an open and welcoming church for ALL. And so I invite you too, to get into the boat with me. We will not allow anyone else to tell us who Jesus loves and who he does not love, nor who he has called into his church and who he wants to keep out of his church. We will not allow anyone else to tell us they know who Jesus has called for ordained ministry and who has not. For you see, I was once a part of a church that tried to tell me I did not belong, could not be ordained, that there was not place for me to use my God-given gifts. So let’s head into the storm, together, with Jesus at our side! Amen.