In early Christianity, a boat was a symbol for the church. Like a boat, the church was understood to be a place of safety and refuge in the midst of the chaos, danger, and storms of the world. It is the ark, carrying Noah and his family and the animals to safety. It is the small fishing boat carrying Jesus and his disciples, buffeted and tossed by wind and waves as it crosses the lake into unfamiliar territory.
This symbol shows up in church architecture, too - the central part of the sanctuary is officially called the “nave” which you might recognize as coming from the same Latin root as the word “navy”. In some sanctuaries, the shape of the ceiling is meant to call to mind the overturned hull of a boat.
Certainly all metaphors have their limits, but this one still gives us much to think about. On the boat that is the church, I wonder if we are more like cruise ship passengers, expecting others to attend to our comfort, and seeking out opportunities for rest and entertainment? Or perhaps we are like the crew members on a fishing boat, trimming the sails, hauling nets, and working with each other. Or maybe we are adventurers in a canoe, exploring distant rivers and taking in the sights as we chart a way forward through the wilderness.
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Photo by Alexander Henke on Unsplash |
In any case, we are reminded that, for all kinds of boats, their purpose is intrinsically connected to the water. While it is certainly safer for a boat to remain docked in the harbor, that’s not what it was made for. The chaos, danger, and unknowns of the open water are frightening and beyond our control, and yet that’s exactly where boats are meant to be. It is, in fact, what they were built to do.
This same sense of mission is clear in today’s Gospel reading from Mark 4. Jesus and the disciples have spent a long day among the crowds as Jesus taught them using parables of sowers and seeds and hidden lamps. And yet, rather than rest and set out across the lake in the morning, Jesus tells the disciples that the time had come to go across to the other side, sun setting in the background as the boats set out.
What was on the other side of the lake? The country of the Gerasenes - Gentile territory. Unfamiliar, strange, inhabited by outsiders. And yet, they too are included in the expansive vision of the liberating, life-giving kingdom of God. Jesus’s mission is to them, too, and not even windstorms and crashing waves and fearful followers can prevent him from reaching those shores.
As the story goes, a great windstorm arose on the sea. The wind howled, and the waves crashed over the sides faster than the disciples could bail it out. Somehow, though, in the midst of the chaos swirling around them, Jesus was sleeping. The disciples were filled with fear, and do what the wind and waves had not - wake Jesus. It doesn’t seem that they expected Jesus to do anything, really, except perhaps share their terror, and bear witness to whatever would become of them. They see him blissfully unaware of the danger and their fear, and interpret his sleep as a lack of care. “Teacher,” they accuse, “do you not care that we are perishing?” Were we right to follow you? Have we misunderstood who you are? Have we misinterpreted your care?
Their hearts are fearful, but the disciples receive the assurance they need as Jesus wakes up, rebukes the wind, and calms the sea. Jesus does care. In the face of chaos and danger, Jesus is present, speaking peace to both frenzied waves and anxious hearts.
We know what it feels like to be in the middle of life’s storms, anxious and afraid. We know the feelings of confusion and worry, wondering if God is absent in our time of greatest need, wondering if God cares that we are perishing.
But whether or not our faith is lacking, whether or not the winds and waves that threaten us are stilled, we take comfort and find courage in Jesus’s presence with us through it all. He accompanies us - accompanies his church - on calm and stormy seas alike.
As we venture into the open water, we remember also the waters of baptism, which both drown and save as we die to sin and are raised to new life in Christ. These waters join us to God and to one another, the church. At the end of our baptism liturgy, the congregation welcomes the newly baptized with the following words: “We welcome you into the body of Christ and into the mission we share: join us in giving thanks and praise to God and bearing God’s creative and redeeming word to all the world” (ELW pew edition p. 231).
The baptismal call - the call to be the church - requires us to leave safe harbors; requires our openness to new and unfamiliar people and places. Even so, it is not work we do alone. Joined to Christ, and joined to one another, the one who has power even over the wind and sea guides us and journeys with us, through storms and whatever else may come.
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