Pentecost 5 – Year B (2024)

Proper 13 :: Job 38: 1–11 / Psalm 107: 1–3, 23–32 / II Corinthians 6: 1–13 / Mark 4: 35–41

This is a homily given at St. James Lutheran Church (ELCA), York, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, June 23, 2024

 

“GROWTH AND CHANGE”

(Homily text: Mark 4: 35 – 41)

During my years in seminary, we had a wonderful theology professor who would begin every class session with this statement: “Class, it’s a pleasure to do theology”.

In response, some in the class would quietly utter a groan.

In spite of the reaction of some of my classmates, it truly is a pleasure to do theology. Doing theology allows us to reflect on God’s nature and attributes, and on the ways in which God has acted in times past (offering us a clue as to how He might act in our own time, or in times to come).

With this thought in mind, let’s do some theological reflection on the familiar account of Jesus’ stilling the waters of the Sea of Galilee as He and His disciples made their way by night through a storm.[1]

The setting for this event is the beautiful lake, called Gennesaret on some places, and the Sea of Galilee in other places. This beautiful body of water is a spectacular fresh water lake, surrounded by hills and mountains. Looking at it, one might think that it was located in some mountainous region. In truth, it lies about 700 feet below sea level. The lake is fed by the Jordan River, coming into it from the north. The Jordan also flows out of the lake on the south side, heading toward the Dead Sea, which lies about 1,200 feet below sea level.[2]

Due to its setting and the presence of the surrounding hills and mountains, the Sea of Galilee is prone to sudden storms and high winds. The waves on the water can be quite high. Imagine then, being in a relatively small boat[3] (perhaps about twenty-seven feet in length) at night as this storm arose.

“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” the disciples ask the Lord, who is asleep on a cushion at the back of the boat. Mark relates to us that the waves were beginning to wash over the sides, threatening to swamp the vessel.

“Peace! Be still!” the Lord says. Mark then tells us that there was calm. The wind ceased and the waves stopped.

The disciples ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

Who, indeed?

To make sense of what’s happening in this event, we would do well to reflect on the forces at work and the person who exerts control over them.

The forces are those of nature, which – at this particular moment – are out-of-control. Chaos reigns, and it threatens the wellbeing of those in the boat.

If we access our memory of accounts in Holy Scripture, we remember that, at the beginning of creation, it is God who creates all things, and in the process of doing so, creates order out of chaos. He separates the waters from the dry land, for example. In providing dry land, God makes possible the animal and human life that requires some solid foundation in order to live and to thrive.

As an aside, recall the many instances in the Psalms where we read something like “You, God, have lifted me up and have placed me on a rock that is higher than I”. (I am paraphrasing.) All throughout the Old Testament, we see evidence of an attitude of thankfulness for God’s saving acts, particularly in providing a safe place in the midst of chaos. (A good example is the parting of the Red Sea, allowing God’s people to pass through the waters on dry land.)

So, then, the disciples are asking the right question: “Who then, is this, that even the sea and the winds obey him?”

At the heart of this event lies God’s power to control chaos, and – if we may step a bit onward – to create and to recreate. In this incident, Jesus creates calm out of the storm.

It would be easy to think that the disciples figured out who Jesus is in a logical, step-by-step process. As we read the pages of Holy Scripture, it’d be easy to think that all the events recorded in the Gospels simply unfolded easily and in sequence.

But the blunt truth is that the disciples’ walk with the Lord wasn’t an easy one. For example, consider Peter, who became (after the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost) the leader of the early Church and its most powerful spokesman. Prior to the Lord’s resurrection and the coming of the Spirit, Peter was a bumbler, one who was capable of saying really unbelievable things. An example will suffice: On the mountain when Jesus was transfigured, it is Peter who says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three booths, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”. Recall that it is Peter who denied the Lord three times.

Some of the other disciples were capable of the same sorts of things.

Their walk with the Lord was often one of taking one step forward, and then two steps backward.

We shouldn’t be too hard on that original band of the Lord’s followers. After all, God was doing something wonderful and different in sending His Son into the world, to take on our humanity to the full.

So Jesus calms the storm and quietens the wind and the waves. He demonstrates God’s power over the created order, and over the powers of chaos and disorder.

God’s power, at work in Jesus, reveals to those disciples that God is present in the person and the work of Jesus.

In time, the Church would come to understand that Jesus, the Christ, is One who is fully human, and yet, is fully divine. Two natures, human and divine, in one Lord Jesus Christ. These two natures, human and divine, do not diminish the other, they are not confused with the other.  (Ultimately, Jesus’ nature is a mystery. We can understand that nature to some extent, but we won’t understand it fully until we are in God’s presence in eternity.)

In today’s incident, God chose to reveal something about Jesus to His original band of followers. In time, they would come to see just what was happening, and by what power Jesus stilled the winds and the waves.

We love and adore and worship a Lord Jesus Christ who reveals Himself to us in the things He is able to do by God’s power. Perhaps our Gospel text for today might encourage us to reflect on our own walk with God, and to remember those times and those circumstances when the Lord brought us through stormy times into a place of calm.

Thanks be to God, for His Son who comforts us in all trials and troubles.

AMEN.

---

[1]   Matthew and Luke also recount this incident. See Matthew 8: 18, 23 – 27 and Luke 8: 22 – 25.

[2]   The Dead Sea is the lowest place on earth.

[3]   A first-century fishing boat was discovered near the shoreline of Galilee some years ago. It was carefully preserved, and is now in a museum. It is about twenty-seven feet in length. Its hull contains about a dozen different types of wood.

Pentecost 4, Year B (2024)

Proper 12 :: Ezekiel 17:22-24; Psalm 92:1-4, 12-15; II Corinthians 5:6-17; Mark 5:6-17

This is a homily given at Christ Lutheran Church (ELCA), in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, June 16, 2024 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

"GROWTH AND CHANGE"

(Homily text: Mark 4:26-34)

Some years ago, there was a wonderful comedy show on Public Broadcasting called "Red Green". Red Green originated in Canada, and its weekly presentation took place in a men's clubhouse.  Each week, the show would open the same way, with the men in the club filing into the clubhouse, where the sat down on benches.

The leader of the clubhouse would come in and say, “All rise for the men’s pledge”.[1]

Part of that pledge went this way: “I’m a man, and I can change, I guess.”

Perhaps we’d do well to remove some of the burden on men, and alter that pledge to say “I’m a human being, and I can change, I guess.”

Another change we might make, one that is of importance to each of us as Christian believers, would be to say, “I’m a Christian believer, a follower of Jesus Christ, and God expects me to look for change in my life and in the lives of others.”

Change (and growth) are at the heart of the two short parables that our Lord told His original group of disciples, the ones we hear this morning.

The first parable reminds us that it is God who will bring about change and growth, perhaps in ways that we might not understand completely. Put another way, we could say that the parable reminds us that “God’s got this”.

The second parable assures us that growth and change are inevitable. From small beginnings, God will ensure growth at the time of maturity, in His good time and on His schedule.

Perhaps, to the early churches in Rome that Mark may have been writing to, these two parables were meant to encourage and to strengthen their faith and their resolve to persevere in the face of harsh persecution.[2]

When we think of change, and of God’s ways of bringing about change, we might remember and recall the big ways in which God does those things. For example, ancient Israel remembered God’s deliverance of His people from bondage in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai, the water from the rock in the wilderness, and the provision of manna in the wilderness.

For Christians, the sending of God’s Son fits the thrust of both of today’s parables, for God’s work in sending His Son is God’s way of working, and the small beginnings of Jesus’ sojourn among us began in small and humble ways, but it didn’t end that way.

In our own more recent history, we recall God’s work through the agency of Martin Luther and the other reformers.

As much as we might want to cry out with the prophet Isaiah and say, “O, that you would rend the heavens and come down”[3] and fix all the world’s problems, God’s way is often not of the big and dramatic variety.

The truth is that God’s locus of activity is often in the human heart, mind and soul. God’s works in mysterious ways to change human beings from the inside out.

Since this is Father’s Day, I can’t think of a better illustration of God’s ways of working, mysteriously, to bring about change on my father’s life. It is a tale of small beginnings and great and wonderful endings.

One Saturday afternoon, my father admitted to my mother that he was having chest pains. My mother, who was a formidable force and not one to be trifled with, told him that he was going to go to the hospital.

My dad objected to that idea. (Now we’re back to “I’m a man, and I can change, I guess”….but only if you absolutely force me to!)

He went to the hospital. And it was a good thing he did, because in the wee hours of Sunday morning, he had a massive heart attack. His heart stopped. The doctors and nurses came running, and got his heart started again. But then it stopped. Back and forth the battle was waged over a three-hour period. In the end, they were successful.

In the morning, the doctor came in to see my dad and said, “Jess, if you want to live, there’ll have to be some changes,”

You see, God met my dad at the end of life’s road. And, in essence, God said to my dad, “OK, Jess, do I have your attention now?”

Changes there were.

From that time forward, my father, who’d been a longtime alcoholic, never again took a drink. My father, who’d been running away from God for much of his adult life, withdrawing into a world of regret over unfulfilled dreams and aspirations, found God again, and was found by God again.

Little did my mother know that her prayers, her constant prayers over a thirty-year period, were about to be answered, but in God’s way and in God’s time. You see, my mother, in addition to being a formidable force to deal with, was also a prayer warrior.

Each one of us who have gone through the waters of baptism are enlisted in the work of changing and growing into the full measure of Christ. As we do, we can bear witness to the fulness of life, the depth of meaning, and the joy of being in a loving relationship with God.

Then, we can turn around and bear witness to all these good things, and to the fact that God is a God of second chances, of new growth, and of a new life.

Truly, it has been said that the Christian faith is more often caught than taught.

Thanks be to God, who brings about change and new life.

AMEN.

 

---

[1]   My memory isn’t as good as I thought. The Men’s Pledge is actually the “Man’s Prayer” in the show. The prayer is a bit different than I’d remembered. It says, “I’m a man, and I can change, if I have to, I guess.”

[2]   Many scholars today believe that Mark’s gospel account was the first one written, perhaps not too many years after the Emperor Nero’s persecution of the Christian community following the Great Fire in Rome in the year 64 AD.

[3]   Isaiah 64:1