St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
June 23, 2025
Year B, Proper 7: The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
1 Samuel 17:1a, 4-11, 19-23, 32-49
Psalm 9:9-20
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
Mark 4:35-41
Into the Storm, with Jesus
Today’s first lesson sure is a long one but it’s a great story.
The story of David and Goliath is well-known, even by people who don’t know much of anything about the Bible.
This story of the underdog triumphing over the giant has entered popular culture, just like a few other Bible stories: Adam and Eve, Noah’s Ark, the parting of Red Sea, and Jonah and the Whale (or, actually, the large fish).
We’ve talked about Jonah before but just to refresh everyone’s memory:
God called Jonah to travel to the great city of Nineveh and call the people there to repent. If they didn’t repent, God would destroy the city and all its inhabitants.
But Jonah, he didn’t want to go to Nineveh – it was the capital of the mighty Assyrian Empire – not a friend of Israel – and, apparently, Jonah had no problem with God destroying the city.
So, instead of obeying God’s will, Jonah tried to run away from God by getting on a boat and heading in the opposite direction of Nineveh.
But God doesn’t give up on Jonah or the people of Nineveh.
So, God kicks up a great storm. The storm is so fierce that it terrifies the sailors who are all praying to their different gods.
Meanwhile, Jonah is down below, sleeping soundly.
The sailors cast lots to figure out who among them has brought about this calamity, and the lots point to Jonah.
Jonah admits that he’s the problem and tells the sailors to toss him into the sea, which, eventually they do, reluctantly.
And the storm is stilled, and Jonah gets to spend three days and nights in the belly of the large fish, reconsidering his life choices, before getting another chance to do God’s will.
Jonah is a charming story – and it’s an important story, reminding us of the need to follow God’s will.
And Jonah also reminds us that God’s love extends to absolutely everyone, even the people of Nineveh, even the people we don’t like, even the people we call enemies.
Jonah was also an important story for early Christians who recognized Jonah’s three days and nights in the fish’s belly as a kind of foreshadowing of Jesus’ time in the tomb.
God didn’t forget about Jonah and Jesus in the depths.
And when we’re in the depths, God won’t forget about us, either.
And, finally, the memory of Jonah provides a backdrop for today’s gospel lesson, when the disciples sail into the storm with Jesus.
Obviously, there are some key differences between Jonah and Jesus.
Unlike Jonah, Jesus does not run away from God’s mission.
Just the opposite, really.
And, unlike Jonah, Jesus is eager to share God’s love and mercy with everyone. In today’s passage, Jesus and the disciples are sailing to Gentile – to non-Jewish – lands.
The people there need to hear the Good News, too.
And, finally, although, at first, Jesus also sleeps as the storm rages, he’s not the cause of the storm, he’s the one who calms the storm.
Jesus criticizes the disciples for their lack of faith, for freaking out during the fierce storm. But, as someone mentioned in our Wednesday Bible Study: let’s give the disciples some credit, they had enough faith to turn to Jesus in their time of trouble.
Into the storm, with Jesus.
Today’s gospel lesson got me thinking about the storms of my life – the personal storms of sorrow, fear, and regret.
And I also got to thinking about the storms that we experience together.
I mentioned to you once before that I took my very first seminary class at the General Theological Seminary in New York City on the evening of September 10, 2001.
That first class was an exciting and joyful milestone on my road to the priesthood.
But, of course, the next day – a day that started with so much beauty and promise – quickly descended into a storm fiercer than anything most of us had ever experienced, had ever expected.
I was teaching that morning in Jersey City, in a classroom with a view of the New York City skyline.
And Sue was working over in the City, a couple of miles north of the World Trade Center.
It took many hours for us to be reunited, but we were among the fortunate ones, of course.
And I don’t remember how our church – St. Paul’s – got the word out – I guess by email or a phone chain – but that evening our rector, David Hamilton, invited all of us to a Communion service at the church.
I remember walking the few blocks from our house to the church, still in shock, still numb after everything that had happened, and very frightened that maybe this was just the beginning of the storm.
And I remember gathering in the church – it was late enough that it was already dark out – and so the church was lit only by the lamps and candles.
I don’t remember much about the service itself, but I do remember feeling grateful that Sue and I were together and that we were gathered with Dave and some of our sisters and brothers, gathered in our beautiful old church building.
You may know that the main part of the church, where you’re sitting right now, is called the nave – from the Latin word meaning “ship.”
Despite the numbness and fear, I could feel the presence of Jesus in that place, in that boat, with those people.
And, I thought, maybe, we’re going to get through this.
Into the storm, with Jesus.
We all know that our personal storms can churn up in a moment: one wrong step, one word spoken in anger, one phone call or email.
And anyone who was around for the catastrophic storm that arose suddenly on a beautiful September morning nearly twenty-three years ago, knows that those kinds of storms can arise without much warning.
And then there are the storms that we can see looming out there on the horizon, storms that seem so big and unstoppable and leave us feeling dread, feeling like we’re up against a seemingly unbeatable Goliath.
Storms will continue to rile the waters and we will sometimes be terrified or maybe just grow numb to all the suffering.
This is why it is so important to be right here, in the boat.
Be here with our sisters and brothers, this perhaps unlikely mix of people, this community of love, this community of faith, this community of remembering.
Be here, praying to Jesus, praying with Jesus.
Be here in the boat, sailing into the storm with Jesus.
Trusting Jesus, who is wide awake, and way more powerful than any storm.
Amen.
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