Wednesday Sermon: There Was a Great Calm – Mimetic Theory, Storms, and God’s Love

Wednesday Sermon: There Was a Great Calm – Mimetic Theory, Storms, and God’s Love June 24, 2015

Photo: Flickr, Jonathan Comb, some changes, creative commons license)
A Passing Storm (Photo: Flickr, Jonathan Comb, some changes, creative commons license)

Pastors have a frequent question when they begin to discover mimetic theory. “That’s great. But how does it preach?”

Reverends Tom and Laura Truby show that mimetic theory is a powerful tool that enables pastors to preach the Gospel in a way that is meaningful and refreshing to the modern world. Each Wednesday, Teaching Nonviolent Atonement will highlight Tom and Laura’s sermons as an example of preaching the Gospel through mimetic theory.

Tom and Laura explore the story of Jesus asleep in a boat while his disciples feared the raging storm. They state that Jesus was asleep “because he doesn’t participate in desire gone awry, nor does he participate in chaos … Jesus is able to bring a great calm because he knows that sound and fury go away when we know we are loved, even in our brokenness, to the bottom of our dark hearts.” Amen!  Discover more about mimetic theory and God’s love for us in the sermon below.

Year B, Pentecost 4
June 21, 2015
Thomas L. and Laura C. Truby
Mark 4:35-41 (Common English Bible, copyright 2015)

There Was a Great Calm

When the scene opens, the crowds have grown so large that Jesus and his disciples have retreated into a boat a few yards off-shore. Jesus is in a boat and people are on the beach in a semicircle listening to him. The sea has provided a bit of separation between Jesus and the clamoring people causing them to cease being in a competition for his healing touch. Now they are able to hear his parables about the kingdom of God but they don’t understand what he is talking about. Later in the story we discover that even the disciples aren’t getting it. This has been going on all day and its getting toward evening when Jesus says to his disciples “Let’s cross over to the other side of the lake.” I wonder why he leaves at this time of day. He is leaving them with mysteries unresolved, questions unasked, people not healed and a desire to do something dramatic, frustrated.

The text says, “They left the crowd and took him in a boat just as he was.” The curious phrase “they took him as he was” intrigues me. They didn’t go back to shore and gather his things; no extra food, no blankets, no fishing gear, nothing; they just left. Why so fast? What’s their hurry? Is this crowd about to erupt into a mob demanding he lead them in their crusade against evil? Or does Jesus sense the scene is about to turn ugly.

The disciples immediately do as Jesus asks and leave the crowd. In the Gospels Jesus is often portrayed as uncomfortable with crowds. He avoids them as much as he can and sees them as fickle and dangerous. As we know, Jesus’ experience with the crowd will come soon enough. For now Jesus’ time has not yet come and so they leave.

He wants to go to the other side. The other side is where non-Jews live. Maybe Jesus feels the need to let things cool off a bit? But some weren’t ready to disconnect yet. “Other boats followed along.” I hadn’t noticed this before. It wasn’t just Jesus and his boat that went, it was a small flotilla.

“Gale-force winds arose, and waves crashed against the boat so that the boat was swamped.” The flotilla is caught in a terrible storm and their boats are taking on water. It is an alarming situation. “But Jesus was in the rear of the boat sleeping on a pillow.” Isn’t that odd? The contrast between the disciples who are panicking and Jesus who is sleeping on a pillow could not be starker.

In Hebrew mythology the sea always represents chaos, evil, the disintegration of order, the disordered seething of the human heart. The sea stands for all the things we fear but cannot name directly. We float on this sea of chaos and our fragile boats protect us, supplying a membrane separating us from disaster.

A strong wind has arisen and it is driving the sea into a furry so that the waves are crashing into their boats and filling them with water. Could the wind be a symbol of human desire gone awry? Another name for this membrane is culture, civilization or order.

On Wednesday, Dylann Storm Roof entered Charleston, South Carolina’s historic Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, sat with the people of the church for an hour during their Bible Study and then said “I am here to kill black people. I have to do it. You rape our women and you’re taking over our country. And you have to go.” He then shot nine people to death. Human desire gone awry! The young man wanted to kill people whose skin tone and heritage is different than his own. Instead of using his youthful energy to serve humanity, this young man blamed all African Americans for his own mounting failure and then expressed his rage toward himself by murdering nine of them. The furious wind of his own hatred combined with the agitated waters of American racism crashed against the boat of order and the boat, already swamped, took on even more water.

System after system is taking on water. On Monday we received a letter from some friends of ours who are in the medical profession. Both are doctors. The husband who has recently retired writes in concern for his wife who has not. “This is what has pushed my wife to the edge,” he writes. He then refers to an enclosed article delineating the increasing costs and regulations, particularly with the mandated electronic health records system that is so defining medical practice and so excessive, that many doctors are choosing to retire. He writes, “We doctors still need and want to see and help patients” but it is getting so difficult that our own health and families suffer. The storm is raging and the boat is taking on water.

On Thursday, June 18th, the Office of the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees announced that the number of refugees world-wide is the highest ever recorded. More than half of the world’s refugees are children. In 2014, on every single day, 42,500 people were driven from their homes. One person out of every 122 on the planet is either a refugee, internally displaced or seeking asylum. If those people were the population of one country, it would be the 24th largest in the world. At a news conference U. N. High Commissioner for Refugees, Antonio Gutierrez said, “One clearly gets the impression that the world is at war—and indeed many areas of the world are today in a complete chaotic situation. The result is this staggering escalation of displacement, this staggering escalation of human suffering, because each displaced person is a tragic story.” The waves of chaos are crashing-in on the boat of civilization and the boat is taking on water.

As the storm rages the panicking disciples wake Jesus and say, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re drowning?” How can he be sleeping at a time like this? He is in the boat too. If it goes under, he goes with it. They accuse Jesus of not caring about them.

Our text says “He got up and gave orders to the wind, and he said to the lake, ‘Silence! Be still!’ The wind settled down and there was a great calm.” He does care! He cared all along. I think Jesus was sleeping in the back of the boat because he doesn’t participate in desire gone awry, nor does he participate in chaos. His desire is rightly tuned and connected to his Abba, the creator God. Wind and sea obey him because he addresses the source of their agitation. He knows the human heart is restless, agitated, rebellious and full of envy and rivalry toward all that it sees. Jesus understands the depth of human darkness and has come to this earth to show us a way out of it. The way centers on his co-suffering love and forgiveness. We see that lived out in the forgiving response of those who lost loved ones in Charleston.

Jesus is able to bring a great calm because he knows that sound and fury go away when we know we are loved, even in our brokenness, to the bottom of our dark hearts. The disciples accuse Jesus of not caring but we know he cares enough to drown in the watery chaos of our violence. We know that it won’t be long until he does go down with the swamped boat, swamped by our violence, and drowns in the depth of human sin. But God doesn’t leave him there. God vindicates him by bringing back a drowned man. No wonder Jesus can sleep on a pillow as the storm rages. The image looks ahead to what we know is coming.

Suddenly it’s all over. The crisis has past. The wind has died down and the seas are relaxing. The wind of human desire gone awry that stirs up the sea of chaos and restlessness has found its rest. Is the Jesus-induced “great calm” an image of the kingdom of God? In Matthew Jesus says “I will give you rest.”

At this point Jesus asks them, “Why are you frightened? Don’t you have faith yet?” It’s the “yet” that I notice. I answer, maybe not yet, but it’s coming. The more I hear these stories, the easier it is to believe and trust even in the midst of my chaos and the world’s.

Our text concludes with “Overcome with awe, they said to each other, ‘Who then is this? Even the wind and the sea obey him!’” Overcome by awe! This is what I want us to feel. I want us to turn to each other and say, “Who is this? Even the wind and sea obey him.” Translated into human categories, even human desire obeys him and restless chaos responds by settling down. Jesus brings a great calm and someday we are all going to see it. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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