This week’s lesson from James can be a little discomforting. James pulls no punches when he addresses his readers: “Adulterers! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God” (James 4:4). Our initial read may assume that James is directly addressing someone guilty of adultery, but closer examination reveals that he is using adultery as a metaphor here for those that have a “friendship with the world”. Now before you think I am going to go off a tirade about how evil the world is and how we as Christians must flee from any interaction with the sinful, corrupt world, I want to put your mind at ease. I don’t think James is engaging in some kind of world-denying spirituality that would see the material world as inherently evil. Such a spirituality does not fit with the general direction of the biblical tradition nor with the sacramental spirituality of the church that says creation comes from God and is a means by which God may be known. Additionally, we can’t avoid contact with the world. The gospel of John has Jesus speaking to this relationship to the “world” when he says, “I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world” (John 17:15-18). So, what does James mean by “friendship with the world”?

James seems more concerned here with values. James is addressing those who have allowed “bitter envy and selfish ambition” to rule. Those who pursue “friendship with the world” are more concerned with building themselves up in the eyes of others. When envy and ambition rule, all sorts of disordered behaviors spring from them: murder, disputes, and conflicts. James wants instead to encourage a “wisdom from above” in contrast to this “friendship with the world.” This wisdom has much different manifestations. Instead of disorder and wickedness, the wisdom from above produces purity, peace, gentleness, a willingness to yield, mercy, and the absence of partiality and hypocrisy.

A classic story that illustrates this difference between a “friendship with the world” and the “wisdom from above” is that of Cinderella. Many of us know the story of Cinderella both from childhood stories and the Disney production. Cinderella is a young girl whose mother has died and her father has remarried to a wicked step-mother who comes into Cinderella’s life bringing cruel step-sisters into the family. Cinderella is mistreated by her new step-family, a family which has an over-inflated sense of their importance. When the prince of the kingdom throws a ball and invites his subjects, the step-mother and step-sisters cannot imagine Cinderella being on the same level as they and manipulate the situation so that Cinderella is left at home while they proceed to their “rightful” places at the ball. They hope that the prince, upon seeing the obviously worthy step-sisters, will select one of these step-sisters as his wife and future queen, raising the family even higher in prominence to the place where they rightly belong. Cinderella is not even worthy of consideration.

To the rescue comes the fairy-godmother who pours out special favors on Cinderella to reveal her beauty and worthiness and to enable her to attend the ball. It is the humble Cinderella, now revealed in all her glory, who catches the eye of the prince. We know that the story does not end there, for Cinderella flees, leaving behind a precious slipper that the prince will now seek to use for the identification of his beloved.

When the prince comes looking for the owner of the slipper the step-sisters go to great lengths to prove their self-perceived worthiness, even to the point of engaging in self-mutilation to try to force their feet into the ill-fitting slipper. Their attempts at deception are uncovered and they are rejected by the prince. It is only when the prince discovers that it is the humble Cinderella whose foot fits the slipper perfectly that we arrive at the resolution of the story that can be labeled “happily ever after.”

The step-sisters are the antithesis of what C. S. Lewis may have meant when in Mere Christianity he defines true humility in the following way: “True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.” The step-sisters are models of envy and ambition, what James means by “friendship with the world”. This envy and ambitions drives the step-sisters to disputes among themselves and to their oppression of Cinderella. They have an inflated sense of their role in the world and are unable, or unwilling, to concede the value and nobility of anyone else. Cinderella’s humility, on the other hand, leaves her open to the gifts, may I dare say the graces, that prepare her for the ball and her eventual elevation as princess. It is Cinderella’s humility that is the key to her greatness. In some version of the story, Cinderella forgives her step-sisters and even arranges marriages for them to courtiers, thus revealing herself as “peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good gifts”, a model of “wisdom from above.”

A similar story of ambition leading to conflicts and disputes is found in our gospel selection today. Jesus’ apostles are debating among themselves about who was the greatest. Jesus’ response to this conflict is fairly familiar, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35b). Selfish ambition seeks only to lift oneself above others and the ambitious person does not care who she or he must step on in order to reach the top. Christian humility seeks to build others up as the servant of all.

So during this next week let’s flee from a “friendship with the world,” not in a way that denies the goodness of creation or God’s self-revelation through the created world. Instead let us flee from the ambitious desire to be seen as great in the eyes of others. In place of earthly, unspiritual, and devilish desires let’s embrace a wisdom from above that is “pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” Let’s seek out ways to build each other up through mutual servant-hood, being humble, not in some self-deprecating way, but in a way that thinks of ourselves less often so that we may think of others more. It is in this humility that we will find ourselves open to the grace that God yearns to pour out on the humble.

Even to this day my mother calls my father and me to the kitchen table for dinner with “Get your ten little people washed. Dinner’s on the table.” It would almost seem that Jesus and the pharisees are having a disagreement about hygienic hand washing before meals, something that we would tend to accept as an obvious health measure. The debate, however, is over observance of certain ritual behaviors that have their root in the interpretation of the laws of the Torah rather than in the observance of a specific law or health practice.

The Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, what we call the “Old Testament” contain a number of laws governing various aspects of human life. Tradition says there are 613 laws in the Torah, and a portion of this law found in the book of Leviticus chapter fifteen detail laws concerning ritual washing after coming into contact with certain bodily fluids. From this section of laws, the Pharisees of Jesus’ time established rules for ritual washing in other contexts, and one of these was a ritual washing of the hands before and after the of consuming bread. Pure water was to be poured over the hands three times while reciting a prayer of blessing, “Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us concerning the elevation of hands.” That any clean, dry substance, such as sand, could be used for this ritual washing provides evidence that this is something other than a hygiene issue and had more to do with ritual uncleanliness.

That this is a debate about the interpretation and application of the Jewish law is further illustrated by the parallel issue that Jesus raises about the honoring of one’s father and mother. We are all familiar with the commandment, what we commonly call the Fourth Commandment, that says, “Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you.” The pharisees, however, allowed a person to identify a portion of his possessions as dedicated to God while still maintaining use of them, and then claiming not to have the funds to provide support for his parents when they were in need. Jesus attacks this lack of charity toward one’s parents, demonstrating how the pharisees could twist the law in order to act in uncharitable ways, a practice Jesus frequently attacks in multiple exchanges with the pharisees of his time.

When Jesus is alone with his disciples it becomes clear that they did not quite understand the controversy, just as we might miss it today if we think it is simply an argument about whether one had indeed washed his or hands before coming to the dinner table. They ask him to interpret the “parable” to them. I chuckle every time I read Mark 7:15 as I can imagine Jesus sitting there with his forehead in his hand, shaking his head at the dense minds of the disciples, saying, “It wasn’t a parable, guys. I was speaking quite plainly!” Jesus, however, appears far more patient than I would imagine, though I do detect a bit of frustration in his voice as he says, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” Jesus dismantles the ritual observance of laws that had the purpose of maintaining a ritual state of purity, but instead shifts the focus to how our actions can defile. Jesus provides a list, which is certainly not all inclusive, saying, “For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly.”

We have all probably heard the saying that “cleanliness is next to godliness,” and I believe Jesus would probably agree, despite this controversy over hand-washing. Hygiene is important, but note how the saying is worded. Cleanliness is next to godliness, but cleanliness is not godliness. If we were to value the two, I think most of us would agree that it is the godliness that is more important. It is toward godliness that Jesus wants to move the pharisees, his disciples, and us. The evil things that can come out of us, the vices, are what defile us and move us away from godliness. How we treat each other demonstrates how stained or pure our souls are. It is here that we can turn to the advice given in the letter of James. James warns us, “If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hears, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” Just as Jesus’ list of that which defiles is not comprehensive, I would argue that James’ list of what constitutes pure and undefiled religion is not either, but that it points toward how that religion is to be lived. Care for orphans and widows in their distress is one portion of how we care for those less fortunate and for each other. Pure and undefiled religion is relational. Just as God is three person united in one nature as the Holy Trinity, we, as the church, are many people united in love for each other. When our lives are marked by godliness in the way we treat each other, then we are living out a pure and undefiled religion.

How many times at our dinner tables have we arrived with scrubbed hands but then allowed the tabletop conversation to devolve into bitterness, complaining, fighting, or even bitterly cold silence? We may keep our kitchens spotless and have little risk of salmonella or E. coli infections from our food, but what infections of bitterness and anger run through our hearts and poison the meals we share, or even refuse to share, with others? In just a short time we will leave this space and gather in the church hall for our monthly potluck. While I would definitely endorse washing our hands before eating, I would also encourage each and every one of us to examine our hearts to see if we are able to eat in godliness with each other, and if not, to work toward healing whatever it is that stands in the way of our ability to do so, for only then can what we do in this space truly be pure and undefiled before God.

“Making a Joyful Noise unto the Lord”

Proper B15 – 16 August 2015

Paul’s letter to the Ephesians continues his advice to the community at Ephesus on holy living. I would like to focus on the last part of today’s reading where Paul advises, “be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:18b-20).

A significant component of our Morning Prayer service is fulfilling Paul’s advice to sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, also fulfilling Psalm 100:1 where it says to “Make a joyful noise to the Lord”. I frequently joke that I am glad scripture calls for a “joyful noise” and not “beautiful singing”, for I can at least be joyful, and my singing definitely falls into the category of noise! Paul’s advice to sing is also reinforced by a statement attributed to St. Augustine, the fifth century bishop of the town of Hippo in northern Africa, when he says, “He who sings prays twice.” Lifting our voice in holy song also lifts our hearts and minds to God in a special form of prayer. Some may say they are unable of singing, and what they mean is unable to sing in a way that is praised as beautiful singing, but I also like to fall back on an African proverb that says, “If you can walk, you can dance. If you can talk, you can sing.” God gave us these voices, so it is God’s fault if they are not always particularly melodious, so that should not stop us from singing.

The Psalms that form the central portion of the Morning Prayer service were written to be sung. The book of Psalms is a music book that has been passed down for almost three thousand years. During the fourth century, some groups of Christians began to move into isolated, lonely places and live as monks. These monks would daily sing all 150 psalms from memory as they went about the manual labor they performed for their survival. When we sing the psalms, and notice we have been singing the psalms lately rather than reciting them, we are joining our voices to almost three millennia of prayer and praise to God. While we do not know the particular tunes to which these psalms were sung, and it would be meaningless to us if we did as they psalms were originally composed in Hebrew, there has been a long history of setting these texts to music. One of the more well known forms of singing the psalms is known as Gregorian chant, a style of singing that became popular in the ninth century. Even to this day it is possible to go to churches and monasteries and participate in the daily cycle of prayers based around the psalms being sung to Gregorian chant, and there have been several top selling CDs of the chant from monastic communities, the Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos in Spain being one of the first communities to popularize a CD of Gregorian chant.

The Episcopal Church is heir to a form called Anglican chant. Some larger churches and cathedrals will have choral Eucharists and choral Evensong services with full choirs chanting the psalms and prayers in Anglican chant. A quick search on Youtube will find a person some magnificent examples, though the best way is to experience the service in person. While I would love for us to do the psalms and canticles of Morning Prayer in Gregorian or Anglican chant, these methods might seem too overwhelming for us to try at this time. You will notice that in the service bulletin the psalms and canticles are said to be “sung to the tune of…” Billy and I have been using a text called the Metrical Psalter as the source for these texts. Typical translations of the psalms and the canticles of Morning Prayer are translated for reading, not for singing. While Gregorian and Anglican chant can handle the irregular syllable patterns that may show up in standard translation from one language (Hebrew) to another (Latin or English). For ease of singing, the texts in the Metrical Psalters are translated so that they follow a regular pattern, called meter. With this regular pattern, the authors have then matched the text to a common hymn tune, making it easier to sing the psalm if one knows the tune of the hymn. Of course, some of you may have noticed that not all the hymn tunes are as well known to us as others, but we are working on that as we go along!

The goal, however, is to enhance our worship and allow us to follow the advice of Paul to sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs more effectively in our worship. One of the joys of sung psalms, hymns and prayers is that there is strong connection between singing and memory. By singing the psalms and the hymns of our worship, I hope they can become ingrained into our minds and become part of our subconscious lives. I would encourage us all in worship to sing joyously. If we are not familiar with the tune, listen carefully to the music and try to pick up the tune. We can also sing powerfully, not in an attempt to overpower the rest of the congregation, but as a means of putting more of ourselves into the song so that it does become an act of prayer. One piece of advice that is often given at monasteries when one visits is that it is okay to sing along, but also be sure one is not singing so loud one cannot hear one’s neighbor, which I think also puts pressure on one’s neighbor to sing loudly enough to be heard. Like all of our worship, our singing is communal and not a solo performance nor an event for spectators!

As we continue with our worship, let’s be mindful of Paul’s advice and enter fully into our singing and worship. Perhaps in our singing we will in fact be praying twice!

St. Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians is struggling to maintain his authority within the Corinthian community he founded. After his visit and evangelization of Corinth, others had arrived preaching a variation on the gospel Paul had initially preached, probably a variation that placed emphasis on the following of Jewish ritual laws. These “super-apostles,” as Paul calls them later in II Cor. 12:12, point to mystical experiences and great acts of power as evidence for their authority. Paul, in defending his authority in the Corinthian community, does not deny his ability to lay claim to similar mystical experiences and acts of power, but instead places emphasis on the sacrifices he has made on behalf of the gospel as the mark of his authority.

St. Paul’s statement in II Corinthians 12:10 is paradoxical. He states, “Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” I am not often content with those things. Weakness I can deal with. I know, to some extent, my limits. Hardships and calamities I can deal with, too, as they seem to be the nature of the human experience. Admittedly, some people have more hardships than others, and sometimes I become irritated with the unfairness of how some seem to suffer more intensely than others. My hardships being, to return to a theme from an earlier reflection, relative “tempests in teacups” compared to those of others also helps me handle them with relative equanimity.

It is the insults and persecutions that get to me the most. There is a malevolent intentionality behind these. On these counts, too, I am relatively fortunate. I do not suffer persecution, and rarely encounter insults. Of course, that is because I am perceived as a member of the preferred group in our society. I am perceived, and therefore treated, as a white, educated, middle class, gender conforming male. As such, I avoid the insults and persecutions that others may suffer.

This week, however, I came face-to-face with just how much my privileged position clouds my impressions, and the way I speak, of the experience of the marginalized other. I was also challenged as to whether I had any right to speak out on behalf of the marginalized other, and I would like to address my responsibility to speak out on behalf of the other first.

There are two forces that compel me to speak out. First, I believe firmly that the gospel compels all followers of Christ to not only seek out and embrace the marginalized other, but we are also instructed to act in their interest. Latin American liberation theology calls this a “preferential option for the poor.” When we are empowered to make decisions and take action we are compelled to consider first and foremost how our decisions and actions will impact the poor. I interpret “the poor” as all who are disenfranchised in society, whether economically, socially, politically or in any manner. This is also what I mean by the “marginalized other,” a person who has been pushed to the edges of society.

Beyond the gospel mandate for a preferential option for the poor, I also believe that those of us who do live within the privileged classes of society have a responsibility to confront the systems that grant us privilege at the expense of the marginalized, using our privileged position on their behalf. I have my privileged position in society through very little merit of my own. Yes, I did work hard for my education, and I do work hard for my current economic position, but I also had access to these opportunities for hard work partially because of the privileged context of my birth. Were I born in a different context, I might not have had the opportunities of which I now take active advantage. I think of all those people born in developing countries who lack access to the many resources we in the United States take so much for granted. What would have been my chances to be where I am today were I born in such a context? Did I “earn” the context of my birth, and therefore did they “deserve” theirs for some reason? I think not.

But I digress too much. This past week while reading about the tragic burning of eight black churches in ten days I became impassioned to join my voice to those crying out with the question of “#WhoIsBurningBlackChurches”. Some answers to the causes of the fires have been discovered. A fire at Fruitland Presbyterian in Gibson County TN, has been attributed to lightening, and another at Greater Miracle Apostolic Church in Tallahassee, FL, has been attributed an electrical fire caused by a fallen tree. The fire that finally broke national news silence at Mount Zion African Methodist Episcopal Church in Greeleyville, SC, has also been ruled as caused by lightening. At least three of the fires, including the one at nearby College Hill Seventh Day Adventist Church in Knoxville, TN, are being investigated as arsons. That still leaves two fires with undetermined causes.

Social media networks, particularly Twitter, came alive with indignation that the mainstream media had not been reporting on these fires. In joining my voice to the outrage about the media silence, I raised the snarky question about why the media was not reporting on this recent “attack on religion.” I was immediately challenged that this was not an attack on religion but an attack on blacks. I initially defended my statement, wanting to use the rhetoric of the “attack on religion” to shine the light on the problem. However, I also began to reflect on how my position of privilege and my use of language were leading me to appropriate the experience of the black community and universalize it as an attack on religion rather than recognizing the reality that it was not an attack on religion, even though the specific targets in this instance were churches, but was rather an attack on black men and women through the medium of their places of worship. This same difficulty arises when one rephrases the “black lives matter” slogan as “all lives matter.” “All lives matter” ignores that the black community’s experience says that their lives are devalued. The cry “black lives matter” is a cry of pain and anger in the face of systemic discrimination against black lives. When I, as a white man, say, “Oh yes, I know. All lives matter” I am minimizing this cry of pain and anger by subsuming and universalizing the message, even if that is not my intention.

When we hear questions like “#WhoIsBurningBlackChurches” and statements like “black lives matter,” we need to be careful not to try to universalize the statement or discount it. These are profound cries of a community that knows firsthand what St. Paul is saying about the experience of insults, hardships, persecutions and calamities. We need to listen like the Corinthian community to the message and allow the other to speak with authority just as St. Paul claimed the authority of apostleship from his experiences. We also need to be wary of allowing our positions of privilege to cloud the message we are hearing or to misrepresent the voice of the marginalized. When we speak from privilege we make the mistake of the “super apostles” in relying on our privilege. When we listen with our whole heart and allow the pain and anger of the experience to touch our deepest being, then we can join hands with those who have experienced marginalization and together experience the promise of the Lord when he said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect through weakness.” (II Cor. 2:9).

The Christ of the Homeless by Fritz Eichenberg

“For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.” (II Corinthians 8:9)

This is one of my favorite concepts in theology. Kenosis – the concept that Christ, who was God and shared all the attributes of the Godhead, emptied himself of all being God entails to become one with humanity. Paul alludes to this idea again in the hymn found in Philippians 2:5-1:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

6 who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God

as something to be exploited,

7 but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

8 he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—

even death on a cross.

9 Therefore God also highly exalted him

and gave him the name

that is above every name,

10 so that at the name of Jesus

every knee should bend,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

11 and every tongue should confess

that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

In the Second Letter to the Corinthians Paul tells us that this self-emptying of Christ, his becoming poor, was so that we might become rich. Athanasius, the fourth century bishop of Alexandria, Egypt, and one of the great teachers of the church is quoted as saying, “The Son of God became man, that we might become god.” This idea, called theosis, does not mean we become “gods” in the same way that the Trinity is God, but that we becomes “partakers of the divine nature” as II Peter 1:4 states it. Through Christ’s emptying of all the prerogatives of Divinity he lifts up humanity, restoring it to its rightful place that was lost with the disobedience in the Garden of Eden.

Paul is using this self-sacrificing, self-emptying act of Christ to call upon the Corinthians to engage in a similar act of self-emptying and self-sacrifice. Paul is attempting to raise money to aid the community in Jerusalem. The region of Palestine had experienced a severe famine that crippled the economy and led to severe struggles for the believers in Jerusalem and its surrounding areas. Paul is calling on the communities he visits to provide economic relief for those struggling and in need. To the Corinthian community, he offers the example of the churches of Macedonia as a challenge. Despite their own struggles, the churches of Macedonia “gave according to their means, and even beyond their means” (II Cor. 8:3). Now Paul is asking the same of the Corinthian community, a community that excels in everything (II Cor. 7).

Although Paul upholds the model of Christ, who emptied himself of everything, becoming poor for their sake, he does not expect the Corinthians to give everything. In this he seems to moderate Jesus’ command to the rich young man to “sell all you have and give the money to the poor” (Mark 10:21). Instead he calls for giving in eagerness according to one’s means. Paul’s advice calls the Corinthians to examine their abundance, particularly in comparison to the poverty of others ,and give out of one’s abundance, for “it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance.” Paul is calling for a fair distribution of resources so that none may have too much nor too little.

Wealth distribution is a touchy topic in American society. A couple of years ago we had the Occupy movement challenging the 1% who held the majority of the wealth and giving voice to the discontent of the 99% who felt marginalized. Nothing has changed since then. 1% of the US population controls 43% of the US wealth. The next 4% control an additional 29% of the wealth. That leaves 28% of the US wealth to be shared with the bottom 95%.¹

Let’s look a bit closer to home – Knox county. The median household income between 2009-2013 was $24,038. 34.7% of the population in Knox county live below the poverty level.² Knox county is the 12^th poorest county in the US when ranked by household median income.

Most of us in this church are fairly comfortable financially. Paul would say we have an abundance, even if we are not part of the 1%. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians should challenge us to look at those struggling in our community and give from our present abundance. The Christian faith has a tradition of the tithe – the giving of 10% of one’s income as first fruits. I would challenge us all to examine our practices of giving in light of Christ’s self-emptying and self-sacrifice of all that he was so that we might be made rich in him by being partakers of his divinity. Can we not empty ourselves of even 10% for those who are less fortunate than ourselves? I will admit – I struggle with this. The last I calculated my giving it was around 3%. I have been working on increasing my generosity. Each year I try to increase my giving by 10% of the previous year with the goal of eventually reaching that 10% tithe which is defined by the Episcopal Church as the “minimum standard of giving.”

I would also like to challenge the vestry to look at our communal budget in light of Christ’s self-sacrifice. What portion of the parish budget serves the needs of the poor, the hungry, and the homeless? We do send $25.00 a month from St. John’s to support a homeless shelter, and money collected in the “poor box” does go to Episcopal Relief and Development. What percentage of our budget is spent on our internal needs such as facilities upkeep, utilities, priest salary (when we have one)? I don’t want to discount these expenses, as they are important for our continued existence as a community, but do our budgets, personal and communal, reflect more an inward focus on our personal needs, or a self-emptying for the needs of others?

I will conclude with a selection from a homily on the Gospel of Luke by one of my favorite theologians, St. Basil the Great, a fourth century bishop of Caesarea:

What keeps you from giving now? Isn’t the poor person there? Aren’t your own warehouses full? Isn’t the reward promised? The command is clear: the hungry person is dying now, the naked person is freezing now, the person in debt is beaten now – and you want to wait until tomorrow? “I’m not doing any harm,” you say. “I just want to keep what I own, that’s all.” You own! You are like someone who sits down in a theater and keeps everyone else away, saying that what is there for everyone’s use is your own. If everyone took only what they needed and gave the rest to those in need, there would be no such thing as rich and poor. After all, didn’t you come into life naked, and won’t you return naked to the earth?

The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry person; the coat hanging unused in your closet belongs to the person who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the person with no shoes; the money which you put in the bank belongs to the poor. You do wrong to everyone you could help, but fail to help.

Christ in the Storm on the Lake of Galilee. Rembrandt. 1633. Oil on canvas. Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston, MA, USA.

Several times this past week I have caught myself using the phrase “tempest in a teacup.” Many of us have heard or used this phrase to describe some small event that someone, even ourselves, has blown out of proportion. I am not sure whether it was just a coincidence to catch myself using this phrase, whether I was more alert to it due to meditation on this week’s gospel passage, or whether this week’s passage inspired it, but I do think this passage from Mark describes a very similar situation to a “tempest in a teacup.”

Jesus and the disciples are traveling by boat across the Sea of Galilee. We do need a bit of a geography lesson as very few of us have been to the Sea of Galilee. The Sea of Galilee is not a major body of water, although the use of the word “sea” sometimes implies that it is. It is an inland body of water and something one might more likely call a lake rather than a sea. In fact, with an area of 64 square miles, it is just a little more than half the size of Lake Cumberland that measures at 102 square miles. On the western shores of the Galilee were the Jewish settlements from which the boat has departed, and it is headed toward the eastern shores, toward Gentile settlements. This becomes very important in the next portion of the gospel when we encounter the story of the healing of the Gerasene demoniac from whom the unclean spirits are cast into a nearby large herd of swine, animals that would have been very welcome in the predominately Jewish western shore of Galilee. So, Jesus and his disciples are passing from the Jewish side toward the Gentile side. This and the next chapter recount at least two crossings between these two sides of the sea and Jesus spends time on each side preaching, teaching and healing.

As the boat is making its way an unusual storm arises. Our English translations do not do this storm justice. The word used for the storm is λαῖλαψ (lailaps), a word that can be translated as “hurricane.” Quite literally the beginning of verse 37 can be translated as, “And there began a great hurricane of wind.” A great hurricane of wind… On an inland lake smaller than Lake Cumberland… I lived for thirteens years in Cleveland, Ohio, near the shores of Lake Erie, a lake considerably larger than the Sea of Galilee and Lake Cumberland (9,940 squares miles, in case you were wondering), and while I had heard reports of strong storms and the appearance of water spouts similar to tornadoes on the lake, I never heard of a hurricane. We begin to see our tempest in the teacup appearing.

The disciples are suitably overwhelmed by the unusual nature of this storm. The waves are cresting over the side of the boat and filling it with water, and I am sure as experienced fishermen they were doing everything in their power to keep the boat on course and bail the water as fast as they could. All this time Jesus is in the stern asleep. So the disciples wake him and accuse him of not caring, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

In response, Jesus rises and sternly commands the winds and the seas to be still, and they obey. However, he takes a surprising step and challenges the disciples. He asks them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” Jesus seems to minimize the fear the disciples were experiencing, assuming that survival of this storm was always within their power and something they should have expected.

It is quite possible the community to which Mark told this story could relate to the overwhelming sense of doom the disciples face in this story. The church at the time of the composition of the Gospel of Mark was going through a change from a predominately Jewish-Christian community, possibly symbolized by the Jewish side of the Sea of Galilee, to one that is becoming predominately a Gentile-Christian community, symbolized by the gentile side of the sea. This period of change was probably causing conflict and confusion in the community. They were experiencing storms of contention and they may have felt that God was ignoring their plight as they attempted to keep their floundering community afloat against seemingly overwhelming odds. Mark’s community is crying out to Jesus to save them, and Mark wants to assure his community that Jesus can bring peace to the storms, but Mark also wants to challenge the community. They must have faith, for through faith they can deal with the storm that is confronting them.

We at St. John’s are experiencing our own challenges during a time of transition. We just said goodbye to a talented priest who has guided, supported and challenged us for two years. We know our financial situation will not allow us to call a full-time priest to serve our community, and we wonder about the likelihood of finding someone who could serve part-time for our church. We may at times feel that the waves are crashing in upon us and the boat is going to capsize. However, we must remember that Christ is with us and he may be giving us the opportunity to step out in faith and confront this storm – a storm that may seem far more overwhelming than it actually is. Throughout its history St. John’s has not only survived, but it has thrived for many years without regular, full-time clergy, and we will continue to do so for many more years to come. Like those disciples in the boat we are far better equipped than we recognize for we have a healthy congregation and the support of the diocesan staff and of our Bishop. The transition from a primarily clergy-centered church to a church where we each claim our baptismal call as ministers of the church in cooperation with the clergy will be a difficult transition, but we will survive it and become stronger in the process.

In addition to speaking to our corporate life as the community of St. John’s, this passage should also speak to us personally. There are times in our lives where the storms may seem overwhelming and that we will not be able to overcome them. We may feel that God is asleep in the stern and allowing us to perish. We need to be challenged to face these storms with faith, knowing that though the storm may seem to be a hurricane on the inland lakes of our lives, with God’s help we can confront the storm and overcome it rather than allow it to overcome us.

And sometimes we need to look with honesty at the hurricanes on our inland lakes, evaluating them calmly through the eyes of faith. Sometimes they just might be tempests in our teacups.