SERMON, PROPER 7B

In ancient times, storms were seen as representative of chaos and destruction, especially storms over seas. Early creation stories showed chaos as swirling over the water until it was finally controlled by some benevolent god, such as Marduk over Tiamet for example. Ocean storms are big and powerful and scary; witness Katrina. It's no wonder the ancients saw them as ruled by chaos.

Mark knew this when he wrote his gospel. His readers would have been aware of this when they read this particular passage. Mark is deliberately saying several things here. He's saying that Jesus, by calming the storm, has power over nature. And if you read past today's lection, you will immediately come across the healing of a demoniac and the healing of two women. Mark is also saying that Jesus has power over the spiritual and the body as well. Jesus has power over the physical world, the spiritual world and the bodily world; but more important than that, Jesus has power over chaos.

Have you ever wondered why churches are traditionally shaped the way they are? It's because they represent and resemble boats. If you turn the building over, the roof becomes the keel and we are sitting in the hull. Boats and water are both important pieces of Christian tradition and imagery. Jesus rides in boats several times. Some of his disciples are fishermen, and he takes them out of their boats onto land to fish for people instead of fish. Water is life-giving and water is also life-taking. Our baptism drowns our old life and gives us new life.

So, water, boats and fishing are all part of our Christian heritage. And fishing, like the disciples were used to, is hard work. So is, as a matter of fact, fishing for people. It requires you get out amongst the fish where storms and chaos are present. Sometimes you don't catch any fish at all, all you catch are storms.

This is where we are right now; we are in the middle of a storm. Some might even suggest that we are in the middle of chaos and confusion. There is a storm raging in and around our boat called the Episcopal Church, and some fear that we will capsize and be sunk.

For the past two weeks, Columbus was in the eye of that storm as it revolved around General Convention. High winds have buffeted the church and nobody knows if it will abate, if we will survive, or if we need to abandon ship. And just as wind and rain and waves are part of the chaos of a big storm, we can identify a number of issues that are part of our own storm.

These include women clergy and bishops, gay clergy, who is and isn't fit for ordained ministry, who should be allowed into our church, and who can and cannot tell the Episcopal Church how to run its internal affairs. Are we going to be an inclusionary or exclusionary church? Will we exhibit hospitality or hostility? Are we about a dynamic faith or a static law?

There has been much made about the Windsor Report and how it was a series of requirements that the Episcopal Church needed to capitulate to in order to remain in the Anglican Communion. In fact, it was a series of recommendations made to everybody in an effort to calm the storm. And while the efforts of one side were deemed "not good enough," or "too little too late," those on the other side saw no reason to follow Windsor's recommendations when it came to boundary violations and being present in a listening process.

In fact, not more than 30 minutes after Bishop Schori was elected as Presiding Bishop, Bishop Iker of Ft. Worth basically asked the Archbishop of Canterbury for asylum. It would appear that three other dioceses are ready to follow suit. Not much effort there to listen and stay in communion.

And on the other side, before you think I'm totally biased one way, the other side is screaming just as loudly because of resolution B033. This states, in part, that bishops should exercise considerable caution before approving someone to the episcopate whose manner of life is problematic for the wider Anglican Communion. In short, they didn't get their way about full inclusion of gays so they're all in a snit.

Both sides have exhibited less than stellar behavior, but one side is clearly less loving than the other. I suppose it's easier to be less loving towards people when you are busy enforcing purity codes.

So here we are, in this boat called the Episcopal Church, trying to survive a terrible storm. We are being buffeted on all sides by differing theologies and scriptural understandings, as well as by personal desires. That storm isn't only affecting us. As in the gospel, there are other boats around. The Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans and others are struggling in the same storm we are.

We cannot overcome that storm alone. Whether we are left or right, liberal or conservative, male or female, we will never be able to overcome the storm on our own. If we rely on ourselves, then the best we can hope for is that we don't capsize the boat while trying desperately to bail out the water.

But we need to remember that we are not alone. Jesus is with us in the back of the boat. The same person who calmed the sea is the same person who has authority over chaos; and he's the same person who created order out of chaos in the beginning. He's the same person who turns chaos into divine purpose.

So rather than echo the cries of the disciples, "Do you not care that we are perishing?" we should trust that Jesus is with us, even if temporarily napping. We should have faith that Jesus is with us, that he will calm the storm, and that his divine purpose will overcome the chaos around us.

Yes, we are in a storm of epic proportions. Rather than panicking, though, let us have faith that God will not abandon us to the deep. Let us have faith that Jesus will calm the storm; and when he does, all those other boats who are in the same storm we are will be at calm also.

Let us act with faith, not fear.