"Don't You Care?" given June 24

Jesus had already put in a pretty full day by the time our Gospel reading begins. According to Mark, he had been teaching on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Then the crowd had gotten so heavy that Jesus had been forced to preach standing in the bow of somebody s fishing boat, floating a few feet out from shore.

By evening, Jesus was no doubt exhausted, feeling he had nothing left to give for the moment. He must have known that he needed to rest. So he invited the disciples to cast off the boat. Let s cross to the other side. He said.

The Sea of Galilee isn't really much of a Sea. It's actually a small lake-- vaguely heart shaped-- surrounded by bluffs-- only about five miles by seven. At least four of the disciples were professional fishermen-- men whose livelihood-- and sometimes whose very lives-- were directly related to their skill in small boat handling and in reading the signs of weather.

Peter and Andrew and James and John would have been all too familiar with the way in which the surrounding hills could funnel a gust down onto the lake. They must have known how even the gentlest breeze could pick up speed and turn into a tempest in a matter of minutes.

It was already evening when they d taken Jesus on board and set off-- not withstanding the dark sky, the menacing clouds, the gusts beginning to blow. All the subtle clues of wind and wave must have told them clearly that a squall was coming. Hard-won experience must have told them very clearly that this was not necessarily a good night for sailing.

But after all, they were with Jesus. They had seen him do incredible things-- exorcise devils, perform healings, feed multitudes. They knew him to be a holy man-- favored of God. Surely, they thought, they would be safe in his company. The Almighty wouldn't be interested in taking the life of one of God s own prophets. Surely God would hold back the wind, hold back the rain.

So they cast off. Jesus must have been very tired, because he immediately lay down in the stern of the boat, using someone s rolled up cloak as a cushion for his head, and went to sleep. He must have been exhausted, because the thunder of the approaching storm didn't awake him. Even the rain falling on them didn't wake him. looking at him resting, as comfortably as if he were back in his own bed in Nazareth, the disciples must have taken heart.

They'd been anxious about the storm. They'd half-hoped it wouldn't come. But seeing Jesus sleeping so peacefully, they must have felt safe from the storm, lucky, protected by an umbrella of blessing they assumed holy men and prophets enjoyed. They were with Jesus, and he was better than any good luck charm or rabbit's foot.

Nothing bad would happen to them-- they were with Jesus. The disciples understood that Jesus was with them on their journey. They didn't have to go it alone. It was His presence in fact, that gave them the courage to set out-- just as you and I need not go it alone-- just as the Presence of our Lo rd with us, can give us courage to face the storms of life.

They didn't understand that having Jesus with us does not mean we'll always have smooth sailing. Sailing with Jesus doesn't guarantee us immunity from the storms of life. In fact, at times there may well be storms we will have to enter if we would travel with Him.

The whole journey out into the night, onto the sea was Jesus idea after all-- not theirs. Some of our greatest adventures with Jesus will take place in the face of raging storms, in the dead of night, when it is dark, when we are lost

Even when the waves surged against the sides of their boat, Jesus slept on. It was only when the water began to wash in over the gunnels that the disciples began to feel uneasy. Didn't God realize Jesus was with them? And as the waves began to fill the bottom of the boat with more and more water, they realized all of a sudden that they were in serious danger of being swamped.

At that point they decided it was time to rub their magic charm. So they called to Jesus, possibly even shook him awake. They addressed him respectfully-- but there was a petulant tone to their request.

"Master, wake up! The boats sinking! Don't you care if we drown? We're about to go down! Do something, Jesus! Help us! Don't you care about us? Jesus woke up and looked around. You can almost picture him rubbing the sleep from his eyes, reaching down to grasp the sides of the boat, the wind and water slapping at his face. When he finally spoke, it was the wind, not the disciples that Jesus addressed.

"Cut that out! Muzzle yourself. Be still." And Mark tells us the wind ceased. He was gentler with the sea. “Hush! Be still." And the waves calmed. Then, gentler still, Jesus turned and faced the disciples.

"Why did you panic? Why did you fear? What kind of faith do you call that? You ask me if I care about you? Have you no faith in my love for you?"

But despite His gentle tone-- despite the fact that they knew Him, had been following Him for quite a while-- despite the fact that they'd seen Him perform wondrous deeds in the past-- despite the fact that they had expected God to spare the m-- despite all that He had taught them-- despite the fact that it was they themselves, who had awakened Him, asking that Jesus work a miracle for their personal benefit-- despite all that-- they were awestruck.

The fear they'd had of the storm was nothing in comparison to the fear they suddenly felt of their beloved Master and Teacher. They'd asked Jesus to show them His love, His care for them. And when He did, they couldn't handle the sheer scope of His love. Their fear of the storm had turned into a kind of reverential fear-- awe. Their attitude toward Him had suddenly been transformed.

They still loved and honored Him of course. He was still their beloved Master. But never again would they be able to see Jesus as just their friend and teacher-- a holy man or prophet-- a man who enjoyed God's favor. Never again would they ask Him to whip up a miracle to order. Never again would they be able to think of Him in quite the same way.

Mark makes it very clear however, that they still had not figured out exactly who Jesus was, where He'd come from, or what His mission was all about. They wouldn't even begin to understand that until after Good Friday. But now, they knew--Jesus was different-- different from anyone they d ever known or imagined.

Mark tells us that they didn't even dare to defend themselves from Jesus rebuke. Rather, they turned to one another, sharing their amazement, pooling their awe.

Who can this be? How can this be? The wind and the waves obey him. Did you see it, too? What can this mean?

But the Gospel tells us that there was no answer given-- at least not an answer in words. Maybe Mark realized that the answer had already been given to them-- given in the vision and experiences itself, in the middle of the storm. Then they would have had to take up their oars. Because He hadn’t left them with even the tiniest breeze-- and rowed the boat across the lake to the other side. And presumably Jesus, went back to the stern, laid his head back down on that r olled up cloak, and went back to sleep.

That awe, that sense of differentness about Jesus never left them, for all the remaining time that He was with them. Maybe they remembered-- maybe they tried to forget that time on the boat. No doubt they tried to forget how they had doubted His love and rebuked Him. No doubt they tried as best they could to forget His gentle reply.

We modern disciples ask that question of Him as well. Sometimes we too, fear being swamped with our troubles and overwhelmed with the storms of life. Sometimes we too, feel abandoned. Sometimes too, we even wonder if God really notices us--if Jesus really cares.

Why me, God? "What did I do to deserve this?" How have I sinned? How could you let this happen to me? I m a good church-goer. Why does Jesus keep testing me? How can a good God allow such a thing to happen? How long, O Lord? How long?

And once we've asked those questions, if we can manage to stop and hush and listen, we too can hear the same reply.

You ask me if I care. You ask me if I love you. You have been with me. You know me. Don t you have faith in me, and in my love for you?

I was born into poverty, raised a refugee and a peasant. I worked with my hands to make a living. I gave up all that I had-- home and family and friends. I lived as a homeless traveling preacher in order to teach and heal and proclaim the Good News of God s love for all humanity.

It was for your sake that I went to the cross. For your sake, I conquered the very bounds of death. For your sake I sent my Spirit to heal and strengthen and empower and encourage you in all the trials of life.

And you ask me, do I care? And you ask me, do I love you? What is it that you want? How can I further prove my love for you? Do you want me to do miracles for you all the time?

Shall I do magic for your convenience? Shall I spare you the pain of disease, the trials of life, the unanswerable questions that haunt you in the middle of the night? Shall I keep you from bumping your toe in the dark? Shall I help you find your car keys when they re lost? Shall I put all the doctors and all the hospitals and the UN and all the charitable groups out of work? Shall I release my church from my call to feed my sheep, and do it myself?

I could do all that and more. Believe me; I am tempted to do that. It would certainly be easier for you and for me. But I cannot do that. I will not do that. To do that would be to rob you of your freedom, your very humanity. It would make you into unthinking robots offering your worship out of awe and fear and duty, rather than offering your honest love out of free choice. To do that would be t o rob you of your potential for growth, for hope, for joy.

You were not made that way. You were made in God s Divine image. You were intended for freedom and love. I came to you from God, and freely took upon myself your human image-- your suffering, your tears, your laughter, your struggles, your triumphs. I am always with you-- I am beside you in all the circumstances of life.

I came to you from God to show you God s will for your own lives and for the world. I came to you from God to offer you the ultimate gift of grace-- joy and peace and unity with the Divine. And you ask if I care. And you ask if I love you. Don t you have faith in me and in my love?

Mark s Gospel does not of course, record those exact words. But sisters and brothers, when Jesus replied to the disciples rebuking question he was saying those things. Not when He stilled the storm-- but when He gently replied: "Don't you have faith? He was answering their question-- and ours.

Because to believe those things, and to freely offer Him your love in return-- with your heart and your head and your being and your life-- to set out with Him into the darkest night on the journey of faith, just because he invites us-- to understand and to believe and to live out those things-- is precisely what it means to have faith in His and Him love.

Let us pray,

Lord Jesus, give us faith in you and your love for us. Help us to recognize you, standing beside us in our tears and in our laughter. Help us to strive to become true people of faith and to boldly proclaim that faith to all the world. Help us to love you more. Amen.