THE EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

July 30^th, 2006

2 Kings 2:1-15

Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-16

Mark 6:45-52

Year B/Proper 12

During a flight between New York and Chicago, the captain said, “Our number four engine has just shut down due to mechanical failure, but don’t worry. We can still finish the flight with just three engines – and you will be reassured to know that we have four bishops on board as well.” At that an 86 year old woman called the flight attendant over and said, “Would you please tell the captain I’d rather have four engines and three bishops”.

Now you probably think the reason I tell you that story is because of all the turmoil the church finds itself in today. But that would only be partially true. I think the full truth is that when fear suddenly grips you in its powerful vice, you don’t want to place your bets on anything but absolutes. Perhaps that was part of what was going on with Elisha today. God forbid that everyone should look to him as Elijah’s successor but then come up empty; only a cardboard cut out of what Elijah had been. He knew he needed something far more powerful than a pat on the back from Elijah. He knew he needed the power of God and the power of God is always a mysterious thing.

I have spent years now studying the readings and the stories that present themselves on any given Sunday morning. I could give you a whole laundry list of reasons why, for example, Mark places today’s gospel reading right after the one from last Sunday and the feeding of the multitudes. I can point out to you that John’s version of today’s gospel is very short, while Luke never says a word about it. I can remind you that Matthew’s account is the best known, with Peter making an absolute fool out of himself by trying to walk out to Jesus on the water.

And while the importance and differences of all those things have their place, it is the mystery of them that draws me in these days when we are struggling to know what the future holds. And when I say we are struggling to know what the future holds, I realize that I am not just speaking of the church, but of situations in each and every individual life here.

Today Paul pleads for Christians to lead a life worthy of their calling. But what does that mean? What does it mean to say there is one body and one Spirit, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of us all? What does it mean to be called into the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro? What does it mean to speak the truth in love? Meaning comes with understanding and understanding is what the disciples do not have in today’s gospel.

We think of ourselves as those who understand who Jesus is, but that can be a dangerous thing because as soon as we tell ourselves we’ve got all the answers our minds – and our hearts – snap shut and we become closed to the unexpected ways that God enters our storm tossed seas.

Just before today’s gospel reading Jesus had gone, as he often did, off alone to pray. By the time he emerged from his solitude it was the fourth watch of the night; between 3am and 6am. It is common for severe storms to blow up out of the Jordan Valley over the Sea of Galilee. The disciples found themselves caught in a fearful storm – and it wasn’t “perfect” like the movie title. It was terrifying.

As hard as they pulled on the oars, their muscles straining and aching, they could make no headway against the powers against them. It should come as no surprise that fear descended upon them like a dark pall; as it always does when we are up against something we cannot control.

In the midst of their fear and panic, they saw a figure across the water. In fright they yelled out and it was only then, in answer to their cry, that Jesus came to them. It was his presence that brought calm into the chaos. This was what completely threw them. They were unable to understand or explain it.

It was what the Celts called, a thin place. The Celts said that minimally there were two dimensions to reality; the visible world of our ordinary experiences and the sacred; the dimension of the holy. Thin places are places, times, and moments, where these two levels of reality meet or intersect. They are places where the boundary between the two levels becomes soft, porous, permeable. Thin places are times and places when the veil momentarily lifts and we experience God’s presence.

Some of you will remember when a few years ago, coming back on the plane from England, I found myself sitting next to a Jesuit priest who turned out to be the Vatican’s astronomer. We had a fascinating conversation. He has just been to a conference in Prague where the subject of God and dimension was central. Both scientists and theologians had been part of that conference. They discussed the fact that to say God only operates out of three dimensions is to limit God to human knowledge. He said theologians and scientists are both coming to a point of acknowledging a fourth dimension; a dimension out of which God operates.

G.K. Chesterton once said, “We do not know enough about the unknown to know that it is unknowable”. There is more mystery to life than we can ever explain, but mystery makes modern people nervous. The modern world sees mystery as a problem to be solved, as something that will, with the right research, eventually be explained, while scripture sees mystery as something to be entered, experienced, and more importantly, changed by. And change is where the rub comes in, isn’t it?

Mark says the disciple’s hearts were hardened; petrified. He meant that their fear and preconceived ideas about who God is and how God works were so set they were not able to recognize God’s presence in their midst. We are no different. Give us a better ship, another engine, a different church; anything but trust God!

That day in 1999, flying back from England, I was struggling with a lot of different storms. Maybe it was pure coincidence that I was seated next to the Vatican astronomer. But as we sat elbow to elbow flying thousands of miles above the ocean, I knew our conversation had been important. As evening approached I picked up the little Benedictine Prayer Book I had taken with me and opened it to a page I didn’t remember seeing before. The reading for that Monday evening was pointedly about accepting the gifts God gives to us. And then I noticed that at the bottom of the page were written these words, “Aways we begin anew”.

William Willomon writes: “All attempts to reduce the grand and glorious Christian faith to a set of moral directives, a list of positive values to be affirmed, or a collection of noble philosophical platitudes are destined for failure. The Christian faith is about the mystery of being met by Jesus, and being encountered, blessed, reassured and fed. God forgive us our misguided attempts to whittle down the church to a mutual admiration society, a volunteer social service organization, a moral improvement club to make nice people even nicer, and all the other pettiness we inflict upon the body of Christ. To be a Christian – to be here – is to be among that fortunate group of people who have been with Jesus, who have looked at this Jew from Nazareth and have seen the very face of God”.

That is the bottom line of our calling; the calling Paul pleads for. That is what I pray for this child we baptize into the Body of Christ today. But the only way she will experience it in and through the church is if the door is not closed against the wondrous mysterious power of the Holy Spirit in this storm tossed ship of ours.

M. Scott Peck wrote in his book, “The Different Drum”, that chaos is the only way to healing and new life. Peck saw value in chaos for without it we remain unchanged and continue a life that very well may be one of treading water as opposed to struggling forward.

So, how do we go about inviting God into our chaos, both collective and individual? It starts with facing our fears. It starts with naming the truth that sometimes what God offers us frightens us, because it is always unknown territory. Yet, only in surrender and loosening our grip on the oar is God able to accomplish the impossible. And when that happens, whether it be the fourth watch of the night or the middle of broad daylight, the veil will be lifted as we cross through to that fourth dimension; where we will recognize who it is who stands as near as the air we breathe saying, “Fear Not. It is I. Be not afraid”.

AMEN

The Rev.Virginia L. Bennett, D.Min.

St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church

Edwardsville, Illinois