Crashing Waves and Turbulent Skies

I am not a good flyer.  And the older I get, the more I find the idea of hurtling through space at 550 miles an hour a good 35,000 feet above the ground unappealing.  Although the TSA check-in procedures, baggage fees, and lack of leg room can be hard to handle, turbulence is my real kryptonite.  It scares the crap out of me. 

My husband likes to tell the story of how I clawed my nails into his thigh during a particularly bumpy ride.  When traveling by myself, lucky strangers sometimes become the beneficiaries of my alarm.  Another favorite strategy is to clutch the seat-back in front of me until all the blood has drained from my hands. Somehow, I think this helps with in-flight equilibrium. 

Rational?

There are many irrational fears out there, but this one makes a lot of sense to me.  What about being tossed around chaotically in the sky could NOT be scary?  Let’s forget for a moment that these aerial convulsions are caused by something not usually considered frightening . . . air.  Anything that could be an opening salvo to a course of events resulting in me falling from the sky to a fiery death seems logically worthy of concern.   

In this week’s gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples were logically concerned about the crashing waves when they were out on the boat.  Jesus was oblivious though, actually taking a nap, just like the frequent flying business executive who is miraculously able to sleep through the kind of turbulence that makes me glad I took the time to create a last will and testament.  And just as I am incredulous towards that executive, the disciples can’t believe Jesus could be so unaware:  “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing” (Mark 4: 38)? 

Mark isn’t the tiniest bit subtle in this gospel story.  Clearly, the message is that with Jesus, we do not need to be afraid of life’s crashing waves.  With faith, we don’t not need to be scared of the turbulence.

What’s the Point?

But why?  I’m serious.  Why?  Faith certainly doesn’t still the waves or even out the flight in any literal sense.  Bad things still happen to people of faith.  We can do all the right things but still have to slog through the muck of divorce or the pink slip or the chemotherapy or the death of a loved one. 

So, if faith doesn’t make for smooth sailing on earth, then maybe it gets us a seat in business class after we die.  I think this is a commonly held viewpoint – that a life of faith is the mortgage we pay off to buy our spot in the retirement villa known as heaven. But while I support those who have this view, it’s not one I can believe literally.  I do not believe in a physical heaven or hell because nothing from established science or in my own lived experience provides any evidence that such phenomenon could exit.  I do believe that when I die, something of my true essence – the part of me that came from God and goes back to God but of which I will no longer be conscious once the lights go out – will go on.  But “Mary Ann” as we know her won’t exist except in the memories of those who loved her and, of course, her millions upon millions of adoring fans.  But even those memories will die away over time. 

The Bottom Line

Well then, if faith doesn’t allow us to skip the line when it comes to pain on earth and it doesn’t get us backstage passes beyond the pearly gates after we die, then what good is it?

For me, faith is a way of seeing the world as “more than.”  It doesn’t take away the turbulence; it re-envisions it.  It provides context for it.  It allows us to find meaning despite the bumps.

And just how does it do that?  Check back next week for a few thoughts.  �