Storm, Be Quiet!
Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 21, 2009
Job 38:1, 8-11 2 Corinthians 5: 14-17 Mark 4:35-41
First reading from Job
Then out of the storm the Lord spoke to Job. ”Who closed the gates to hold back the sea when it burst from the womb of the earth? It was I who covered the sea with clouds and wrapped it in darkness. I marked a boundary for the sea and kept it behind bolted gates. I told it, `You can go no farther. Here your powerful waves must stop.’”
The word of the Lord
Thanks be to God
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark
Glory to you, Lord.
Glory to you, Lord.
On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to his disciples: "Let us cross to the other side of Lake Galilee." Leaving the crowd, they took Jesus with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him. A terrible storm arose and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep with his head on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!" The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?" They were filled with great awe and said to one another, "Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?"
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Introduction
Back to Ordinary time
The liturgical calendar has two seasons of “Extraordinary Ordinary Time.” One is the Advent-Christmas season and the other is the Lenten-Easter season. The calendar also has two seasons of “Ordinary Time.”[3] The first runs from the Monday after Epiphany Sunday (Jan. 5 this year) to Ash Wednesday (Feb. 25 this year). The second season of Ordinary Time is a long stretch which runs from the Monday after Pentecost Sunday through the long summer months and into the fall until the first Sunday of Advent. We are now in that long stretch of Ordinary Time preceding Advent and Christmas 2009.
The command to “Be quiet!”
In the fourth chapter of Mark, Jesus and the disciples are in a boat, and He's asleep in the stern with his head upon a cushion. A roaring storm blows up, and the apostles fearing the ship might sink, wake Jesus. He commands the winds to “Be quiet!” And they stop blowing. He commands the waves to calm down. And they obey. (Mk 4:35-41)
It’s the same command that Jesus gives in the first chapter of Mark. There He commands a screeching demon to “Be quiet! Come out of the man!” (Mark 1:25) The demon leaves him, and the man calms down. The roaring of the wind and the turbulence of the sea are images of the storms which buffet us human beings.
It’s the same command that Jesus gives in the first chapter of Mark. There He commands a screeching demon to “Be quiet! Come out of the man!” (Mark 1:25) The demon leaves him, and the man calms down. The roaring of the wind and the turbulence of the sea are images of the storms which buffet us human beings.
Tea-pot tempests
Some of our storms, however, are not much more than tempests-in-a-tea-pot. We remember the many storms which rocked the church, the Bark of Peter, shortly after Vatican II. There were storms over Communion in the hand, Communion from lay-people, meat on Friday, nuns in civilian dress, etc. As we look back on it now, those storms were tea-pot-tempests.
Sometime back, the president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, asked his fellow bishops to inform all pastors that the extraordinary[4] ministers of Holy Communion will no longer be allowed to wash the sacred vessels after Mass. Think of it! We are knee-deep in an acute crisis of a priest-shortage, and some people are worried about who may or may not do the dishes after Mass! That was a tea-pot-tempest.
When a compassionate and innovative pastor substituted rice for wheat in the Communion wafer to accommodate the first Holy Communion of a little girl afflicted with celiac sprue,[5] the local bishop ruffled the smooth seas when he declared the Communion invalid! “We must do what Christ did,” he said. “At the Last Supper He did not consecrate rice wafers but bread!” That, too, was a tea-pot-tempest.
Like the church institution, we have our tea-pot tempests, and we, too, are challenged to name them for what they are, and then, like Jesus, command them to be quiet and shut up. That’s the only adult thing to do.
Sometime back, the president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, asked his fellow bishops to inform all pastors that the extraordinary[4] ministers of Holy Communion will no longer be allowed to wash the sacred vessels after Mass. Think of it! We are knee-deep in an acute crisis of a priest-shortage, and some people are worried about who may or may not do the dishes after Mass! That was a tea-pot-tempest.
When a compassionate and innovative pastor substituted rice for wheat in the Communion wafer to accommodate the first Holy Communion of a little girl afflicted with celiac sprue,[5] the local bishop ruffled the smooth seas when he declared the Communion invalid! “We must do what Christ did,” he said. “At the Last Supper He did not consecrate rice wafers but bread!” That, too, was a tea-pot-tempest.
Like the church institution, we have our tea-pot tempests, and we, too, are challenged to name them for what they are, and then, like Jesus, command them to be quiet and shut up. That’s the only adult thing to do.
Real storms
But not all our storms are tempests in a tea pot. Some of them, indeed, are real storms. Some years ago a friend and I visited a mutual friend in his late fifties, who, on a mild December day as he was riding his bike home from the local hospitals where he worked in surgery, was struck by a car. From that moment on he was totally disabled for the rest of his earthly life.
Instead of handing that terrible disaster over to some nursing-home facility, his remarkable wife and four children took full possession of it. Through a complicated arrangement that engaged the help of agencies, visiting nurses, part-time hired help and especially his family, our friend was able to spend his last days in the arms of a loving family and in the incomparable environment of home.
During the visit, our friend, who by now was a mere shadow of what he used to be, drooled and grunted, mounted his wheelchair with help, and then with help again quickly dismounted. With difficulty he lay down for a moment and then suddenly struggled to get up. That had been going on for four years!
To be frank, it was a relief for us to leave our friend’s home and get outside and inhale deeply after breathing in the dense air of such disaster. We drove home in silence which we broke only to remind ourselves that all our tea-pot tempests paled utterly in the face of a real storm like that.
There are real storms in all our lives. They might not be as drastic as the one which blew over our friend and his family, but they are still staunch storms. Those who give themselves to each other in marriage know how strong the winds can blow at times. Those who raise a family know how high the waves can rise. Those who care for someone chronically or terminally ill know how overwhelming the task at times can be. Those who are buffeted by the present economic recession and have lost their jobs or have had their homes foreclosed know what it means to be bailing water. The disciples in the gospel today cry out, "Teacher, you who are comfortably sleeping with your head on a cushion while the rest of us are frightened to death, don’t you care that we are perishing?" We storm-tossed humans often cry out the same.
Instead of handing that terrible disaster over to some nursing-home facility, his remarkable wife and four children took full possession of it. Through a complicated arrangement that engaged the help of agencies, visiting nurses, part-time hired help and especially his family, our friend was able to spend his last days in the arms of a loving family and in the incomparable environment of home.
During the visit, our friend, who by now was a mere shadow of what he used to be, drooled and grunted, mounted his wheelchair with help, and then with help again quickly dismounted. With difficulty he lay down for a moment and then suddenly struggled to get up. That had been going on for four years!
To be frank, it was a relief for us to leave our friend’s home and get outside and inhale deeply after breathing in the dense air of such disaster. We drove home in silence which we broke only to remind ourselves that all our tea-pot tempests paled utterly in the face of a real storm like that.
There are real storms in all our lives. They might not be as drastic as the one which blew over our friend and his family, but they are still staunch storms. Those who give themselves to each other in marriage know how strong the winds can blow at times. Those who raise a family know how high the waves can rise. Those who care for someone chronically or terminally ill know how overwhelming the task at times can be. Those who are buffeted by the present economic recession and have lost their jobs or have had their homes foreclosed know what it means to be bailing water. The disciples in the gospel today cry out, "Teacher, you who are comfortably sleeping with your head on a cushion while the rest of us are frightened to death, don’t you care that we are perishing?" We storm-tossed humans often cry out the same.
Conclusion
Two kinds of us believers
At the end of the day, we pray that we might know the difference between our tea-pot tempests and the real storms of life. And we pray also to have the inner authority to command our tea-pot-tempests to “Be quiet!” Yes, even to “Shut up! “It’s the only mature way to live.
And in the midst of the real storms of life, we pray not so much for a miracle (though miracles are always welcome). Rather, we pray especially that God would ride out our storms with us, as Jesus rode out the storm with His disciples on the Sea of Galilee.
At the end of the day, there are two kinds of us believers. There are those who, in the storms that buffet us, heartily believe that Jesus (the presence of God) is really in our boat riding out the storm with us. And then there are those of us who don’t so heartily believe but wish and pray we could.
And in the midst of the real storms of life, we pray not so much for a miracle (though miracles are always welcome). Rather, we pray especially that God would ride out our storms with us, as Jesus rode out the storm with His disciples on the Sea of Galilee.
At the end of the day, there are two kinds of us believers. There are those who, in the storms that buffet us, heartily believe that Jesus (the presence of God) is really in our boat riding out the storm with us. And then there are those of us who don’t so heartily believe but wish and pray we could.
[1] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
