Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] June 20, 2021 “After the Storm” Mark 4: 35-41 - New Revised Standard Version “On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him? I’m sure all of us have been quickly studying up on the history and meaning of the new federal holiday officially known as the Juneteenth National Independence Day. Among the stories we are learning is that of Ms. Opal Lee, the 94-year-old who has worked for years advocating Juneteenth as a national holiday. She was there on Thursday to watch President Biden sign the bill. In 2016 she wrote to President Obama seeking his support for the holiday. To get his attention, she told him she would walk 1,400 miles from her home in Fort Worth to DC, 2 ½ miles at a time, representing the 2 ½ years it took for word to come to Texas that slavery had ended. And why not walk 1,400 miles? She was merely 89 years old at the time. Interestingly, that’s the same number of years it took before African Americans could claim Independence too – 89 years from 1776 to 1865. As the name of the new holiday means to explain, not merely emancipation or liberation or freedom but Independence. Of course, not exactly. Among other things, slavery morphed into lynching and race massacres like Tulsa, from segregation and Jim Crow into mass incarceration. However, although it wasn’t yet reality, the ideal named in 1776 moved closer: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It took 89 years to get that far (and farther still for women). And yet, as we know all too well, the same war is still being waged. The people who stormed the Capitol on January 6th are still fighting the same war that enslaved human beings. They’re the same people who burned down Ms. Opal’s house when she was 12 years old. Her family moved into a predominantly white neighborhood in Fort Worth in 1939. They only lasted four nights before a mob of 500 people stormed their house and carried all the furniture into the street and burned it. And then the house. By the way, her family’s home was burned down during the city’s Juneteenth festivities. The family escaped but imagine being a 12-year-old enduring that terror. Yet, instead of bitterness, she said, “If they had given us an opportunity to stay there and be their neighbors, they would have found out we didn’t want any more than what they had — a decent place to stay, jobs that paid, [to be] able to go to school in the neighborhood, even if it was a segregated school. We would have made good neighbors, but they didn’t give us an opportunity. And I felt like everybody needs an opportunity.” And so, she became an activist with a mission to make Juneteenth a national holiday. We are becoming more familiar with the broad strokes of the story. Two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, word had not yet reached the Black Texans who were enslaved. Union General Gordon Granger issued Order No. 3 announcing their emancipation and “absolute equality.” But it wasn’t just the word of this white man. He was flanked by two transports full of Black soldiers. The enslaved saw the evidence of their freedom in the uniforms of all those Black soldiers, an entire Corp composed of free and formerly enslaved Black men. What a sight to behold that must have been. But here’s a detail I didn’t know. Granger and his soldiers had not been sent to Galveston to spread the news of emancipation. They were en route to secure the Mexican border against Napoleon’s invading army. What? The French were establishing colonies in Mexico. That sort of blew my mind. It was while they were on their way for that assignment that a storm hit, bad enough to cause their ships to seek shelter. The storm forced the transport ships to anchor in Galveston Bay on June 18, 1865. It was the day after the storm that they discovered thousands of enslaved people working in the ports and houses and fields. What if there had been no storm? When would word of emancipation, independence, have reached Texas? August, or maybe April of 1866, 1867… The white enslavers certainly had no incentive to announce the news of freedom. But isn’t that something! A storm sent them to Galveston. Sometimes storms are called acts of God. I’ve never really liked that. But Jayne Marie Smith wondered whether that storm really did constitute an Act of God. Thank God for the storm.[1] On the other hand, in today’s gospel, the disciples cried out in the midst of a storm, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” They were in a boat during that storm because crowds were constantly pushing in on Jesus, desperate for healing, desperate for a word of hope. Imagine the exhaustion of such constant pressure. He said, “let’s go to the other side,” perhaps dreaming of a few moments of peace and quiet. Instead other boats chased alongside too. It’s a sign of how tired he was that Jesus could sleep through a storm so powerful it nearly swamped the boat. He was so tired that when he was awakened, he rebuked the wind. It seems like the kind of irrational outburst I might have when I’m too tired. Haven’t you ever cursed the chair for getting in your way? When the disciples woke Jesus up, they accused him of not caring whether they drowned or not. They obviously expected that Jesus could do something like calm the wind. I mean, they didn’t want to hear him say, “I’m sorry to hear you feel like you’re drowning.” They wanted him to do something. He did and the wind ceased. But that freaked them out even more than the storm and they asked each other, “Who is this!?” The text we read this morning said that after the storm, the disciples were filled with “great awe.” Or as another translation says, “they were overcome with awe.” But that sounds like they were filled with wonder and amazement. Wow! Other translations say, “And they feared exceedingly.” Another said, after the storm, “they were terrified and asked each other, who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”[2] One scholar said the phrase literally means, the disciples were “fearful with a great fear.” What is the meaning of all this? It’s kind of a tricky text to interpret. There are several possibilities: 1)We could dismiss it as an idle tale. Another version of an ancient storm god myth. Or simply a coincidence that the wind stopped just then. 2)We could encourage people to hang on and have faith. “Life’s storms often seem overwhelming, but if we have faith, Jesus will calm the storms of life.” Or, 3)Perhaps the miracle wasn’t that Jesus could calm the storm but that he could calm the disciples in the middle of their storm. 4)We could teach people not to see the storm around us but the faith within us. 5)We could turn it into a happily-ever-after story. “The boaters found themselves in serious trouble, but just in time, Jesus saved the day.” And yet, 6)We could just as easily become angry with this story. Why didn’t Jesus save us when we were in the same boat? A few days after I returned from San Diego there was news of a boat overcrowded with migrants that crashed into Point Loma. A boat overcrowded with people desperate enough to pay smugglers to get them to freedom. Some people lived, some people died – literally perishing on the sea. It’s a cruel joke to suggest that maybe if they had more faith… Where was Jesus that day? Miracle stories and healing stories are always filled with those kinds of tensions. If then, why not now. If them, why not me. Scientific minds want to know did it really happen. And how did it happen. I want to know, how is it true. Where do we find truth in the story? There are many things in this story with which we can relate.
I know we’ve all faced storms and we all have stories of the other side. But I’m most curious this morning about the disciples’ reaction after the storm has passed. They were fearful with a great fear. Why? The storm had passed. It makes me think of the pandemic. I wouldn’t say the storm has passed, but the storm is passing, especially for those who are fully vaccinated. We’ve started to come out of our homes. We’re even gathered live in the sanctuary today for the first time in 15 months, other than staff. And yet, many of us don’t feel free from fear. Anxiety remains high. Some people are ready for big gatherings and some people are not. What is the fear? It’s not wrong, but what is it? And when will it pass? Perhaps like Juneteenth, we have to look at it more like a process than the event, like my second vaccination on April 27, 2021. Because Juneteenth may have been the occasion of June 19, 1865, but it’s not just a moment of jubilee or a day to celebrate. It marks the beginning a long process that is still unfolding. Because Juneteenth must be as much substance as it is symbol:
Fortunately, the proliferation of Juneteenth events is taking place at the same time as the banning of critical race theory and curricula focused on slavery’s lasting effects. You can’t establish a national holiday and simultaneously deny why it exists. You and I have survived many storms. After each one, it may seem like one storm passes only to see another on the horizon. But our ancestors teach us how to survive by a combination of our own skill, the support of communities, and acts of God along the way. Every storm we have survived is testimony of a faith that conquered fear. Sometimes we, too, may say “Thank God for the storm.” [1] Jayne Marie Smith, Sojourners, June 17, 2021 [2] In order, NRSV, CEB, KJV, NIV
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