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June 21, 2009
The Antidote to Fear
"Let us go across to the other side." (Mark 4:35b)
"Why are you afraid?" (Mark 4:40)
What makes you afraid?
More importantly,
how do you respond
when you are afraid? I have a fear of lightening - a phobia actually.
I go nuts when it begins to lightening. I get irrational and lose
all perspective. It’s probably rooted in the experience when I was nearly
struck when I was ten years old. Sitting on the back porch during a
thunderstorm, lightening hit the cherry tree about 50 feet away, splitting
it down the middle and knocking me out of my chair. I could feel the
electricity.
Friends of mine when learning that fact have sometimes commented,
"Ah ha! That explains a lot!"
I remember a time, in a previous congregation, trying to conduct a
wedding in the church building when a severe thunderstorm was raging
outside. Every few seconds another bolt hit accompanied by a deafening
crash of thunder. Flinching
with every strike, rattled, fearful, losing my concentration, unable to
focus, as hard as I tried I had to
call a time-out until the worst passed.
Victor Hugo, author of the well known novel
The
Hunchback of Notre Dame,
also wrote a story called "Ninety-Three," a story of a ship caught in a
dangerous storm on the high seas. At the height of the storm, the frightened
sailors heard a terrible crashing noise below the deck. It turned out
to be a cannon that that had broken loose from its moorings. It was sliding
back and forth with the swaying of the ship, crashing from one side to the
other with a terrible impact. Knowing
that it could split open the sides of the ship, two brave sailors
volunteered to make the dangerous attempt to secure the loose cannon.
Metaphorically, the story raises the question about which fears are
the most potent: those triggered by internal forces or by external
circumstances.
We all know about the power of fear.
Fear is a most powerful force that shapes our lives - everyday - in
little ways and big ways. We
all have experienced the impact fear can have - how fear can shape and
distort our thinking, our attitudes, our living and being.
This gospel story I read a few moments ago is all about the power
of fear, but it is also about more - much more!
Mark, in his gospel, tells of two traumatic boat experiences on the
Sea of Galilee: the one I just read
and a second one in Mark, chapter 6.
Both boat stories have
common elements. In
both stories the disciples were crossing to
"the other side" of the
lake. Both stories describe the
"fear" that overwhelmed the disciples as they were crossing; and in
both stories Jesus addresses the disciples' fear.
There are a couple of ways to see and understand these gospel stories
and stories similar to them.
One way is to take them strictly literally, as historical
narratives; to see and understand them as actual literal history
that we could have taken a photograph of or a video of had we
been there with our modern technology.
If we employ the literal approach we can get hung up on whether or
not it "really happened"
the way Mark describes it - and never really get to the meaning of the
story.
Another way to see and understand the stories is not as literal
historical narratives, but as, what many biblical scholars call,
metaphorical narratives.
Metaphorical narrative recognizes that many of the gospel stories
went through a process of shaping and development in the early
Christian communities. In this
understanding, the stories are seen as having a profoundly
metaphorical aspect
to them that reflect the early Christian community's ongoing experience
of Jesus decades after he was gone.
The metaphorical approach takes seriously
what Jesus meant
for those early communities that sprang up around him; communities that
followed him; communities who shaped their lives around him; communities who
named him Lord. This approach says that the deepest meanings of the
stories are found in their metaphorical nature rather than in a
strictly literal sense. For
me, this metaphorical approach opens up vistas of understanding and
new dimensions of meaning in these amazing stories about Jesus and
the impact Jesus had on the early communities that followed him, and
how he continued to shape their community life and their individual lives
long after he was gone.
The two boat experiences in Mark's gospel both have to do with crossing to
"the other side."
Even though it was sometimes referred to as the
Sea of Galilee, it
is only 13 miles long and 7.5 miles at its widest point.
The story begins with Jesus saying to his disciples,
"Let us go across to the other
side." The
"other side" was not merely
a destination a few miles away, but culturally, socially, ethnically,
politically and religiously it could have been 10,000 miles away or a
million miles away. The Sea of
Galilee was not merely a body of water that provided the means for first
century fishing commerce, but it also served as a
kind of boundary/border.
It was a border that separated two regions: a Jewish region and a
Gentile region. When Jesus
said, "Let us go to the other
side," he was transporting his disciples across a
significant boundary/border from a Jewish region to an area referred to
as the Decapolis. The Decapolis, a
word meaning "ten towns," was a region of ten cities on the eastern frontier
of the Roman Empire located in what is today Jordan and Syria.
The Decapolis cities were centers of Greek and Roman culture - a Gentile
region.
For me, what this story is ultimately about is a boundary/border crossing.
In fact, if we read these chapters of Mark's gospel closely we
see that Jesus passed back and forth across boundaries and borders
between Jewish and Gentile regions as if the boundaries didn't even exist.
This was a primary
characteristic of Jesus' life and ministry - boundary and
border crossing. The
gospels reveal that on a regular basis Jesus crossed strict and formidable
religious and cultural boundaries that no one else dared cross.
The gospels show that, in contrast to us, Jesus' life was
not defined by boundaries and
borders, but defined by an apparent
lack of boundary recognition.
So here we have Jesus taking the initiative with his disciples, climbing
into their little boat and crossing a border/boundary - and as they
were crossing they encounter a storm and were engulfed in
fear.
If we read the story strictly literally, as an historical
narrative, it is only about a raging wind-storm, the disciples
fearful response and Jesus miraculously calming the winds and waves.
But if we can consider it metaphorically, it opens up vast new
dimensions.
I believe one of the hardest things to do is to cross borders and
boundaries, especially the almost impenetrable ones we have drawn in our
hearts and minds. Those
inner boundaries are the most formidable.
A part of what makes it hard is the
anxiety and fear
that often accompany boundary crossing.
Many of our boundaries are drawn with the
tools of fear.
And of course, when we are challenged to cross a boundary that
we have drawn with fear, we meet our own fear head-on when we attempt to
cross.
Metaphorically that's what this
story is about. The
disciples encountered the resistance of the wind and waves of their own
fear in crossing a boundary they would not have crossed had it not been
for Jesus. And like them, so do
we meet the head-wind of our own fear and anxiety when we attempt to cross
the strict boundaries we have drawn in our hearts and minds.
To further accentuate the point, Mark injects a measure of dry humor
smack in the middle of the story.
Jesus is asleep in the boat in the midst of the maelstrom of
storm and fear, and the disciples become thoroughly agitated.
You can hear it, feel and perceive in their words,
"Teacher, do you not care that we
are perishing?" Don't
miss the dry and ironic humor.
Marks says, "a great
windstorm arose" and "waves
were beating in the boat so that the boat was being swamped," and
Jesus was "asleep on a cushion."
It is positively absurd!
But you see that's the metaphorical point.
A life not
defined by fear always looks absurd to those whose lives
are defined
by fear.
The boundaries and borders that we draw in our hearts and minds that are
fear-based Jesus invites us to cross.
That's the journey Jesus leads us upon: to cross boundaries drawn by
overt or subtle prejudice; to cross boundaries of bias; to cross boundaries
of narrow-mindedness; to cross boundaries of elitism and arrogance; to cross
boundaries that prevent the fostering and nurturing of community; to cross
boundaries that marginalize,
minimize, dehumanize and categorize people; boundaries that we even
legitimize using religion
and scripture.
But then along comes Jesus, and he climbs into a boat and invites his
disciples (including us) to come along. And he sets sail for
"the other side."
It's an invitation to discover the
wonder and miracle of the other side of our carefully drawn boundaries.
It's an invitation to discover the people and the life from which our
fear-drawn-boundaries have isolated us.
And somewhere along the journey
we will run smack into the head-wind and waves of our own fear
that would stop us or swamp
us. We turn to him for
help, and when we do, we will find him asleep in the stern of the boat, and
we will be agitated and perhaps even sternly admonish him saying,
"Don't you care that we are
perishing? This crossing to the
other side was a bad idea - too risky - too dangerous!"
And then forthrightly with love he responds and says,
"The problem lies not in what's on
the other side. The problem
is your fear." And
then he will simply say, "Do not
be afraid."
I don't know if it's possible for me to
not be afraid;
especially when challenged to cross one of my fear drawn boundaries.
But what is
possible is to continue the journey
"to the other side" being
led and empowered by the one who's life is
not defined by fear
- Jesus my Lord and my mentor.
I can follow him through my fear.
I can be empowered and given courage by his absence of fear.
You see, that's what the stilling of the wind and waves represents -
absence of fear.
The problem with these boundaries we draw is that they
blind us.
They blind us to really seeing who and what is on the other side.
From my side of my carefully drawn boundary I cannot see close up.
I cannot see the detail.
I cannot look into anyone's eyes or listen to their voice.
I cannot feel their pathos and their pain.
In my boundary induced blindness I can arrive at all sorts of
erroneous and distorted conclusions about
"the other side."
I can generalize and stick on all sorts of labels.
Theologian Sallie McFague writes,
"People all look alike when you cannot be bothered to look at them
closely."
Jesus pushed across borders and boundaries to move from the general to
the specific; to see and experience the detail of
"the other side."
He crossed boundaries and borders not to change those he encountered,
but to know them - to listen to them - to affirm them -
to love them with the inclusive love of God - to heal their
infirmities - to serve them - to behold them - to lock eyes
with them - to set them free in love - to establish their equal status
in the kingdom of God.
"Let us go across to the other side. And leaving the crowd behind..."
says Mark, they went.
Oh yes, one last thing. Anyone
who follows Jesus across fear-drawn-boundaries and borders will leave the
crowd behind, and likely will even have to bear the scorn and rejection of
the crowd. But, you know, the
world desperately needs courageous and bold people who are willing to not
let fear define and rule; people who will step across boundaries and borders
that are tearing the world apart - to be the connecting links - to be the
bridges that connect those on different sides.
"Let us go across to the other side."
It
is the first bold step of discipleship.
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