Asleep in the boat on the stormy lake
What I might have said in 'the sermon'...
‘What would you have said?’
It’s a fair question - asked by a colleague when I admitted I was uncomfortable about the sermon.
’So, if that had been you preaching, what would your sermon be?’
I’m tempted to answer that I would never be in that position. But the truth is, though I’ve never been in such a grand pulpit or at such an important occasion, I have had the extraordinary privilege of standing up in worship and saying something about God - for 25 years now. More than a thousand times.
What would I have said?
‘Are you against mercy?’
Of course not. “Which of these was a neighbor to the one who fell in the hands of robbers?’ Jesus asks in the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). ‘The one who showed mercy,’ ‘Go, and do likewise’.
Are we not called to care for the stranger?
In the same parable, the one who showed mercy did so for a foreigner, for someone of a different culture and religion. Someone others passed by - even a priest.
And … I don’t think being a Christian is about what we do. It’s about what we believe.
Jesus never really asks us to do anything except have faith.
Have faith that the Kingdom of God is at hand. That no matter what it looks like out there, at any given time, Jesus’ resurrection has broken the bars of death and hell and we have nothing more to fear.
Least of all each other.
Because here’s the thing: it’s tempting - so tempting - to equate what we see as justice and mercy as completely in line with what Jesus thinks. That we’ve gotten the assignment and now we understand what must be done for peace on earth. We’ve got this.
But there are problems with this…
Once we know that Jesus is on our side, the only logical conclusion is that he’s not on the other one. That those with whom we disagree are against God.
We engage in power struggles - we will force you to do the things that we see as good, or you will force us to do the things we see as bad. We will keep upping the ante, disastrously.
It’s exhausting. We’re exhausted. Trying to save ourselves and others is never-ending, and it’s never successful.
It cuts God out of the center. We no longer need God - rely on God - to save us. To redeem the world and our lives on God’s own terms.
But this is not academic! People are right now doing things that harm others - sometimes grievously. Don’t we need to stand against them - or stand with others? Don’t we care?
Jesus slept in the boat while the storm raged around him. ‘Don’t you care that we’re dying?’, his frightened disciples ask (Matthew 8).
I think it’s clear that Jesus cared. He calmed the storm. The wind and the waves obeyed him. He gave himself into the hands of those who crucified him. He forgave them.
None of this is academic. It’s about the salvation of the world, and of each one of us in it. All of this is accomplished by Jesus.
When we believe this, our vision is changed.
We see a world being reconciled to God. Even when it’s frightening, we see that the ultimate outcome is joy - for all of us.
We see that the ridiculously extravagant mercy and love of God extends to us all, no matter how much we may be sure that some deserve it more than others.
This calls us - no matter how hard it is sometimes - to dare to look into the eyes of the very person who scares us the most and see the face of Jesus.
It gives us the power to give up our power and place ourselves and each other in hands of God. And trust that this power is love, and will lead us to more love of our neighbor and ourself.
I would have said, ‘You are my brother in Christ’.
I tend to put a bit more emphasis on practice, since it can be expressed outwardly to our neighbors. But I have found a wealth of value in the belief-faith components as I have experienced the Episcopal Church traditions and the devotional material in the Book of Common Prayer. And I’m influenced by how much more I find Jesus’ attending to teaching the Disciples in their actions as well as their faith. I haven’t studied enough to know if that assertion is accurate.
I want to be careful not to worship things or actions or thoughts. Things: my money. Actions: my “good deeds.” Thoughts: my mind. Worship of God is a way to mute the worship of our minds and turn it into communion. Jesus is the pattern; we learn to live as he did. And he acted decisively so we can act. Of course, God loves all sides, not just my side and their side. But Jesus showed us to pay close attention to actions and what they tell us of thoughts. Acceptance of the Other does not require acceptance of all actions. Forgiveness lacks a core of truth if it has no visible action. I worry that we get too close to the “thoughts and prayers” school of devoutness.