Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Karen Hollis | June 23, 2024
Pentecost 5
Job 38 (Transl. Robert Alter)
And the Lord answered Job from the whirlwind and He said:
Who is this who darkens counsel
in words without knowledge?
Gird your loins like a man,
that I may ask you, and you can inform Me.
Where were you when I founded earth?
Tell, if you know understanding.
Who fixed its measures, do you know,
or who stretched a line upon it?
In what were its sockets sunk,
or who laid its cornerstone,
when the morning stars sang together,
and all the sons of God shouted for joy?
Who hedged the sea with double doors,
when it gushed forth form the womb.
When I made cloud its clothing,
and thick mist its swaddling bands?
I made breakers upon it My limit,
and set a bolt with double doors.
And I said, “Thus far come, no farther,
here halt the surge of your waves.”
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?’
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
I love a good nap – aren’t they wonderful. I’m curious . . . who are the nappers among us? Maybe you curl up on your bed or lie in your recliner or find the closest piece of furniture on which you can collapse into a reasonably horizontal posture for 20 min to an hour . . . more if it’s me on a Sunday afternoon. It’s such a nourishing feeling to lie down for a nap. Napping feels like permission, like a relief . . . to press pause on the stuff of the day and allow our minds and bodies to rest into the support underneath us.
I’m in a real resting season of life and often give myself over to the need for a lie down, not always to sleep, but definitely to take a breath or sort through my thoughts or feel my feelings or remember God is with me. Resting feels like the compassionate response to a lot of things life brings.
Even when I do lie down, sometimes it’s difficult to quiet the feeling that I’m haven’t done enough or I don’t have time to rest or the world is going to come apart if I’m not vigilant for 30 min. You know that feeling of being on a roll with a project or chores and even though you’re worn out and exhausted, it’s difficult to stop. Maybe you lie down, but your mind is still spinning with all the things that are next on your list.
I wonder if Jesus is exhausted as he steps onto the boat. Perhaps he feels the gentle rhythms of water and gives himself over to the heaviness of sleep. Mark really emphasizes that Jesus is off duty. The text says the disciples take him with them, just as he is. They bring him onto their boat, into their space. He’s clearly worn out from teaching crowds through parable after parable, as he is depicted leading up to this passage. So they help him settle his weary body into the back of the boat, where he won’t be in the way and can rest comfortably on a cushion. He’s definitely off duty.
The disciples make Jesus’ siesta possible. Because of their work and expertise, Jesus can have some restorative time. There are many jobs to do on the boat, wayfinding, rowing or sailing, perhaps they’re sharing some food while underway, and most importantly, they’re looking out for storms. The Sea of Galilee is a body of water 680 feet below sea level, surrounded by hills and prone to sudden, violent windstorms.1 As fishermen, they’re well aware of the risks of being on the water and bring skill and experience.
When a storm kicks up out of nowhere, Jesus is embodying the idea that, “everything will be fine and regardless of what life brings, I need to recharge,” while the disciples embody “awareness, vigilance, and eventually panic.”
These two stances have an unfortunate collision as the storm reaches its peak. Honestly, I find Jesus’ response disappointing. Perhaps it was because he was startled awake by the terrified disciples and, while he could communicate authoritatively with the storm, he didn’t yet have access to all his people skills. Sometimes it takes a minute. One commentator wonders: “What would have happened if Jesus was recorded as saying, ‘that was scary wasn’t it?’ or ‘Thanks for waking me up, I wouldn’t have let us go down.’”2 Being scared is a biologically rational response to danger, which isn’t mutually exclusive with faith.
It would be nice to hear Jesus acknowledging the human process in developing our faith and learning from our experiences. I heard someone say once that we don’t learn in the moment, rather we actually learn when we have an opportunity to reflect later on . . . and that feels true to me. In safe spaces, we can process our experience and make room for new meaning and new understanding to emerge. This is a way of coming along side one another and supporting the space each of us needs to speak truth, deepen faith, wonder about next steps. As living beings, we need these spaces of nourishment for rest and reflection.
I wonder what kind of a reciprocal relationship Jesus and the disciples have in this way. Are there times where the disciples get to rest? Has Jesus offered them healing and time to settle into a new way of being? The way of transformation can be exhausting . . . and a good fit for napping.
I wonder . . . who are the people who make it possible for you to rest? And how have you supported others in their rest? North Americans generally don’t have the easiest time prioritizing rest, but it’s something that is thankfully being raised up in our cultural consciousness. I think also about everyone in the world for whom it isn’t safe to rest, like refugees and victims of war and conflict. Our movement toward collective liberation includes these reciprocal spaces of nourishment amid life’s storms. Liberation is not individual, but we work toward liberation for all. We are not saved until we are all saved.
As we go into this season of summer, I invite us to notice how we are engaging in the fun of these longer, warmer days, how we are resting, and where we can reciprocate rest and support with those around us. Thanks be to God.
1 Journey with Jesus. Debie Thomas. https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1813-crossing-to-the-other-side June 22, 2024
2 enfleshed June 23, 2024