The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 7), 24 June

There are multiple choices presented in the lectionary for Proper 7—more than usual, with 3 Old Testament choices, and 3 Psalms to go along with the singular epistle and Gospel writings. Though the Samuel passages continue on the royal lineage thread of the Summer for year B are very engaging—David and Goliath, and the fame and love of David provoking Saul and stoking the fire of Jonathan’s love, I have chosen to consider the Job and Psalm 107 texts that seem to best resonate with the themes in the Gospel.

Job 38: 1-11
This is surely the climax of the poetic section of Job. Though God seems annoyed at Job, it is noteworthy that only such faithful fist shaking provokes a response, not the artful and theological explanations for his suffering. God bowls Job over with a multi-chapter outpouring of wonders and mysteries, and reminds Job that some things are simply beyond his understanding. “Who is it that darkens counsel with words without knowledge?” Job is a book of wisdom dedicated to theodicy. It is an ancient story—a non-Hebrew story incorporated into the Hebrew Bible. Speaking about the Biblical scholarship of Job might help our congregations see the long history of syncretism and affirmation of non-Hebrew understanding implicit in the Bible itself. That fact speaks to our own Process perspective, which was formed by a confluence of theology and physics.

I think the RCL included this text because it speaks to God’s commanding interaction with the sea in vs 8-11. As a symbol of chaos itself in the Hebrew mind, the scripture is also a rich example of our understanding of theodicy being informed by upholding “creation out of chaos” instead of “creation out of nothing,” as David Ray Griffin has proposed. (Dr. Griffin alludes to this argument in his essay, “Panentheism: A Postmodern Revelation” which I remember from my Doctrine class at CST. That essay can be found in In Whom We Live and Move and Have our Being: Panentheistic Reflections on God’s Presence in a Scientific World, edited by Philip Clayton and Arthur Peacocke (Grand Rapids, MI, Eerdmans, 2004) p. 37-38). In that essay, Dr. Griffin alludes to another essay he wrote focused on the matter, and reprinted here:  http://www.anthonyflood.com/griffincreationoutofchaos.htm

In all of the scriptures this week, we see creative responsive love pulling the people in the narratives (Job and the disciples of Jesus) and theologians (Psalm and Corinthians) “out of the chaos” and into greater, more actualized enjoyment. Also, as D.R. Griffin points out, the upholding of creation out of chaos gives the theologian a way out of the problem of evil, since God is working with existing chaotic material rather than simply nothing. In the stories of calming the sea, this Divine attribute is celebrated and given narrative. It is “out of the whirlwind” that God addresses Job. This narrative detail points to the engaging theological concept that God speaks in the midst of trouble. The “whirlwind” as a symbol of the swirling, chaotic life circumstances that Job is wrestling with and that his friends are attempting to explain away for him are the point of contact for Job. It is in his desolation that God finally arrives on the scene to confront his questions of suffering.

It has always seemed to me that God is speaking to Job in a demeaning tone, but God’s response does not have to be read that way. Instead, as God has seemingly been “litigated” by Job in a courtroom drama, God is giving a defense, or more accurately, pointing out why God needs no defense. The magnitude and scale and intricacy of God’s oversight of the goings on in the world astound Job into humility. In our own Process perspective, God as the single Being in the universe connected to and concerned with literally EVERY thing puts Job’s suffering in perspective. God can offer the best possible outcome for every being in the moment, but God cannot erase the suffering in one fell swoop. God works with the reality of the world as it is. God is still persuading life out of the chaos.

Psalm 107: 1-3, 23-32
God’s “steadfast love endures forever.” The everlasting character of God’s creative responsive love undergirds our reality, even, and perhaps especially when faced with the chaos of the world around us.

This Creation Psalm of Praise evokes the same “sea as chaos” imagery as found in Job and the Gospel text for the day, and is likely chosen since it’s poetic praise is given narrative form by Mark in the Gospel text. “Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress; he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” Is literally the plot of Mark’s story. It is clear that Jesus’ fulfillment of the scriptures is not relegated to the prophets, but instead the Psalms are frequently referred to or given life by Jesus or directly quoted by Jesus in key moments in the Gospel story.

The Psalm attributes the source of the waves and storm and sea to the power of God as well as the calming, while the Gospel seems to follow along the words of the Psalm minus verse 25, “For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea.” It is interesting that instead, Mark portrays Jesus asleep in the ship while the storm raises (on its own, or a byproduct of the “sleep” of Jesus?) As one completely in tune with the persuasive power of God, he has the astounding capability of influencing the sea and the weather with a command. Resonating with the Creation story in Genesis 1, it is with the words of his mouth that Jesus draws the disciples into creation out of chaos.

2 Corinthians 6: 1-13
While the rest of the texts speak poetically and narratively about the experience of suffering and calamity due to the chaotic powers of the world, Paul’s letter speaks specifically about the notion of persistence amidst challenge. Paul speaks about the salvation of God as an everlasting event. “Now is the day of salvation!” The Divine is in every moment calming the storm, and holding out the best possible outcome that will provide more enjoyment in the world. Even in the midst of “afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger,” Paul endures and trusts God’s provision “by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God.” Paul points out the contradiction that sometimes the best possible outcome draws one out of these challenges over time, “We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” It is a hopeful word to our people that the persuasive power of God persists in the midst of chaos.

Paul recounts some of the storms that he had weathered in his letter to the Corinthians:  I love how Eugene Peterson puts it in “the Message,”

“People are watching us as we stay at our post, alertly, unswervingly . . . in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we’re beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we’re telling the truth, and when God’s showing his power; when we’re doing our best setting things right; when we’re praised, and when we’re blamed; slandered, and honored; true to our word, though distrusted; ignored by the world, but recognized by God; terrifically alive, though rumored to be dead; beaten within an inch of our lives, but refusing to die; immersed in tears, yet always filled with deep joy; living on handouts, yet enriching many; having nothing, having it all.”

Paul alternates between the good and bad fortune in the same breath—it is because Paul faces good and bad treatment with the tremendous power of the Gospel in his heart, radiating outwards.  Paul faced intense difficulties because of the message that he brought to the world. He knew the steady confidence that came from faith in Christ, and it is because of his faith that he was able to write exuberant letters from prison cells, bounce back from a shipwreck to invite a whole community to the Gospel feast, and stand trial among his own co-workers in the church.

Mark 4: 35-41
I have preached from this text at the funeral of a teenager who died tragically in a small community. It speaks of Christ ministering to us in the midst of chaos invoked by the honest and plaintive plea that wrestles with suffering, “do you not care that we are perishing?” I found that even though that situation was tragic, the people were comforted that the Gospel doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the hopelessness that is often felt by the disciples of Jesus, but also provides confidence in the unfailing care and concern in Creative-Responsive Love.

It is “when evening had come” that Jesus draws his disciples into this test of faith and courage. Mark’s Jesus frequently tests his disciples, and provides them with displays of his power to influence their lives for the better. I would venture to say this episode doesn’t happen at night as a throwaway detail. The night and the sea are powerful motifs. They set the stage with fear and trepidation to be a “full court press” of the chaotic tendencies of life.

An important aspect of this story is the disciple’s amazement.  Mark wrote this part of the Gospel to communicate with a world that was infused with stories of the sea—they were familiar with what it meant that Jesus stilled the storm. It spoke to Jesus possessing the power of God—the only Being capable of persuading the stormy sea. It didn’t need to be spelled out for them.  

Dennis MacDonald at Claremont School of Theology has specialized in reading the gospel of Mark in conversation with the Homeric Epics. In The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark, he argues that the Greek hearers of the Gospel would have made some connections that are probably lost on most of us because the Greeks had the Epics stamped on their mind. It was part of their cultural milieu that was understood without mention.   

Interestingly enough—there is a story in Odyssey that this story of Jesus sort of “echoes.”  Odysseus has just returned from the land of Aeolus, the king of the wind. Aeolus is impressed with Odysseus, and gives him a bag of wind to use for his sails.  One day while Odysseus sleeps, his shipmates are curious about the bag and open it—they release the winds contained in the bag, and veer Odysseus and twelve other ships riding with them, off course.  Odysseus’s shipmates wake him up in a panic, and he laments “We are lost by our own folly!” The word lost is the same Greek word that is translated as “perishing” in Mark’s story of the disciples at sea.  

The early readers would no doubt have read this and thought of how Jesus was even more powerful than the great Odysseus.  And while Odysseus could only lament that we were “lost by our own folly,” Jesus saves the disciples from “being lost” by stilling the storm.  In most cases, Mark portrays the disciples in a less than flattering light (much like Homer plays the shipmate’s folly off of Odysseus’s own virtuousness.)  And in this story, Jesus castigates the disciples—“why are you cowards?” The Greek word that Jesus uses for “afraid” is “deilos,” and does communicate a sense of inward defect that is a cause for the person’s fear, as we often distinguish between “fear,” and “cowardliness.”  

In a sense, Jesus poses them with a question that has no reference at all to the waves and wind that are crashing in on them.  Jesus knows that they must first remedy the fear from within before they turn to facing their fears from the outside. Jesus wanted courageous captains on his ship—because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to pilot it for long.  

According to the traditional imagery and symbolism of the church, our churches are ships too.  This sanctuary of the church is called the “nave,” which comes from the Latin “navis,” meaning “ship.”   The word “Navy” also comes from this Latin word. Our congregations have probably heard before that one way to look at our church’s ceiling is as the bottom of a boat.

So—“why do the disciples cross the lake?” One might also ask, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”  The answer is clear: “To get to the other side.” On one side of the lake, the people are Jewish. On the other side, the side that Jesus asks his disciples to take him to, the people are Gentiles.  The Gospel text deals with the storm of chaos and the difficulties inherent in opening oneself to a larger dynamic. This context provided the original hearers with the conflict inherent in a precious story and power crossing cultures with a bigger truth than they at first perceived. Paul chides the Corinthians in the same tone that Jesus chides his disciples,  “Dear, dear Corinthians, I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn’t fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way. I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!” (The Message)

I appreciate how Eugene Peterson transliterates this passage and includes, “the smallness you feel comes from within you.”  It is this same inner fear that Jesus can help us overcome. It is this storm from within that Jesus is able to still in our lives at this very moment!  Jesus expands our hearts, makes them bigger and mightier. We are all troubled by the storms of life. No one can promise you faith will be a magic talisman against difficulties arising in life.  What we can promise you is that with faith in our heart—by “opening up your lives” and living expansively with faith in Christ, we will be equipped to face those difficulties.

Mark Twain said, “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not the absence of fear.”  We will still be afraid, and sometimes rightly so—but our faith will sustain us and give us mastery of fear.  Mark Twain also said, “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A person who lives fully is prepared to die at any moment.” Though the storms of life may still come, though we may face the next day with apprehension and anguish, through Christ, we have no need to have a fear from within.  We can face the chaos with courage and the peace of Christ.

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Rev. M. Nathan Mattox graduated with an MDiv from Claremont School of Theology in 2005, and has since served United Methodist congregations in Arkansas and Oklahoma, most recently University United Methodist Church in Tulsa since 2011. A fellow of the Fund for Theological Education, National Council of Churches Ecological Justice Young Adult fellowship, Collegeville Writer’s Workshop, and the Hendix Institute for Clergy Civic Engagement, he also started the University Church Network, a collaborative resource for churches on or adjacent to university campuses. Nathan has been blending a family since July of 2017 with his wife Myranda, and enjoys the company of four children, a dog and a cat.