"To the Other Side" - Mark 4:35-41 (June 24, 2018)
/Mark 4:35-41
On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But 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?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’
I’ve spent a lot of time on boats over the past four years. And although I wish I could tell you it was mostly recreational, the reality is that it was almost always a matter of necessity. When you live on a 25 square mile island with no bridges, taking a boat is the only option (unless you own your own sea plane which, sadly, I did not). I would estimate that I would take one or a combination of the two Shelter Island ferries an average of between 4 and 8 times a week. In fact, Tricia and I once estimated that we spent well over $2,000 a year simply on ferry fees. Fortunately, we don’t need to worry about that here in Lexington. Although I have been told that there is a ferry around here but I haven’t made up my mind whether people are trying to pull my leg or not.
Of all the times that I traveled by boat, all but only a handful of them were calm. I’d say about 90 percent of the time, the ferries were pretty smooth. Most of the ferry boats were about as long and wide as this sanctuary and could fit at least 20-25 cars. Every once in a while the boat would list back a forth a little bit but it didn’t take too long to get used to it. Most of the time, I would just sit in my car, roll down the window if it wasn’t cold, and take in beautiful view, especially if I was lucky enough to catch the ferry around sunrise or sunset.
However, there was one trip on a boat that was not quite so pleasant. It’s a reality of living on Long Island that unless you take a plane, the only way to get to literally the rest of the country is by driving through New York City. However, one could get around this by taking one of two ferries that run from Long Island to Connecticut, each one taking about an hour and a half. The ferries were large. Each ferry was about 280 feet long and could carry up to 1,000 passengers and 100 cars.
On one day I was heading up to Albany for a meeting with the Synod of the Northeast, I had driven my car onto the ferry at Port Jefferson and had headed up to the main cabin to enjoy my ride to Bridgeport. All was well, until about halfway through the trip. A storm seemingly came out of nowhere, the winds started to rattle the windows of the ferry, and the waves began to toss the big boat back and forth. Now, although my good friend, Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings, reminds us that “all good stories deserve embellishment,’ I will tell you that the boat was listing a good 20 to 30 degrees in every direction. At any rate, it was enough for people to start screaming, dogs to start whining, and for the door of the cafe’s refrigerator to slide open and release dozens of beverages that started rolling violently back and forth down the aisles of the ferry.
As a pastor, I’m pretty good about remaining calm in otherwise chaotic situations. However, my congregation was no where near me, so I didn’t feel the need to hide my panic so I panicked. I curled up in the fetal position on the cushion of the table I was sitting at and hoped for the best. Peeking up on occasion, I looked out the window to see nothing but water, no skyline, because the boat was listing so intensely. After bargaining ferociously with God for about 10 minutes, the worst of the storm passed and the rest of the ride was not nearly so harrowing. After changing my pants, I had a lovely rest of the day.
Now, while my adventure was not pleasant, I’m sure it was nothing compared to what the disciples encountered in today’s passage from Mark’s gospel. Their journey took place on the Sea of Galilee, a prominent body of water about 13 miles long at its longest and 8 miles wide at its widest. On its journey to the Dead Sea, the Jordan River flows into the Sea of Galilee at its north end and flows out of it at its south end. Due to its proximity to the higher elevations to its north, the Sea of Galilee was known for very spontaneous and intense storms when the cold air from the mountains mixed with the warm air of the Sea itself. No doubt, it was one of these storms that was the subject of today’s scripture passage.
But rather than focus predominantly on the storm itself, let’s take a minute to explore the situation that brought the disciples into that maelstrom in the first place.
Today’s passage comes immediately after the trio of parables we looked at last week, all of which involved seeds, sowers, and soil. These “seaside parables,” as I like to call them, took place on the west side of the Sea of Galilee. On this side of the Sea were populous settlements like Cana, Capernaum, and Nazareth, all of which had predominantly Jewish inhabitants. On the other side of the Sea of Galilee - that is, on its east side - were a series of cities populated by the Romans and were, therefore, predominantly Gentile.
As such, the Sea of Galilee served as a de facto natural barrier that separated the Jews from the Gentiles, not unlike the Berlin wall separating German from German or the 38th parallel separating Korean from Korean. Or, to use a personal example, the Sea of Galilee was kind of like the railroad tracks where I grew up in Dalton, Georgia. I, along with most of my white friends, lived on the west side of the train tracks. If you were black or hispanic, you probably lived on the east side of the train tracks.
Jesus saying “let us go across to the other side” was effectively instructing the disciples to cross the DMZ. I’m sure they would have been much more comfortable on the west side of the Sea of Galilee where the “good Jewish people” were. I’m sure they must have had hesitancy going over to the side of the sea with the ritualistically unclean Gentiles.
The Church has too long been keeping people on different sides of the Sea of Galilee. At best, the Church has kept people on different sides through complicity and non-action. At worst, the Church has actively put in place policies that keep people on different sides of the railroad tracks.
I was once doing some historical research regarding Shelter Island Presbyterian Church and I learned that as late as the early 1900’s the church had pews reserved in the back of the sanctuary where the black people could sit because surely, it was said, they would be more comfortable sitting together.
Some of you here were alive when the Presbyterian Church refused to ordain women. It wasn’t until 1956, the year my grandparents got married in Ashland, Kentucky, that this denomination trusted women in the pulpit. There are still many PC(USA) congregations that have never, and perhaps will never, even consider hiring a woman pastor.
Less than four years ago, when I was ordained in the PCUSA, my gay friends could not.
For the past 2,000 years the church has argued about “who’s in” and “who’s out.” We’ve often welcomed diversity, as long as it looks and acts just like us. And we’ve done this despite the fact that Jesus calls us to forever “draw the welcome circle wider.” The Church is in the business of reconciliation, of “crossing to the other side,” in order that we might be in relationship with different people. Our society, and many within the highest levels of government, place “Seas of Galilee” between us to separate us, to keep us from seeing the humanity in one another’s eyes.
Together, we are called to cross the Sea of Galilee with Jesus at our side. Just yesterday, I saw a great example of what it’s like to cross to the other side and to welcome the stranger. It’s a little show that’s making quite a hit called “Queer Eye.” If you’re unfamiliar with the show, it’s a reality show about five gay men who spend a week with a straight guy in my home state of Georgia, helping give him, his home, and his life, a “makeover.” In the episode my wife, Tricia, and I watched last night, the “Fab 5” (as they’re known) spend a week with Cory, a conservative police office in Winder, Georgia. In the beginning of the show, they are going through his “man cave” and find a Trump/Pence yard sign and a “Make America Great Again” hat. You can see the hesitancy on the faces of the five gay men.
One of the gay men is a black gentleman named Karamo who, during a car ride with Cory, admits that he - as a black man - feels like the world labels him a criminal simply because of the color of his skin. In fact, Karamo shares that his son didn’t want to get a driver’s license because he was scared to drive because of all the stories of black men getting pulled over and abused. Cory, after admitting his disgust for fellow cops who use excessive force, says that he feels he gets a bad wrap because of his colleagues who mistreat people of color.
It was truly a beautiful scene. A conservative Trump-supporting cop in an intimate space with a gay black man. The shared vulnerability broke down a wall. In a sense, I guess you could say that their “Sea of Galilee” evaporated. In fact, at the end of the show, Cory, the cop, admits that that car ride with Karamo was the most meaningful part of the week.
Friends, going to the other side can be scary. There will be sudden storms. Lord knows we’ve had plenty of those this week, political and otherwise. There will be waves and wind. There may even be moments when we are tempted to yell into the heavens and ask God if God even cares that we’re perishing. But the truth is that we’re not perishing. We’re changing with one another. We’re learning from one another. We’re a congregation in the sea with Jesus, along for the ride, waiting to see where he would lead us on the other side.
And though the chaos may seem to reign, the creative Word of God need only speak to declare its sovereignty. In the midst of the unknown, Jesus calls out to us and asks us “why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” Friends, God has brought us way too far to give up on us now. I’m convinced that no matter where God is calling us to be, no matter the ferocity of the tempest, God is with us as a friend to lead us to places where we need to be. Sometimes we go kicking and screaming and sometimes we’re disoriented by Christ’s almost offensive tendency to keep calm and carry on. But through all of it, we’re simply on the boat going to the other side. Let’s go together. Let’s listen to one another. Let’s be bold and courageous and confident that we have not been abandoned. Together, let’s see who’s on the other side.
In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.