PENTECOST 13, PROPER 14
SERMON PREACHED AT CHRIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, NORWAY, MAINE
THE REV. ANNE STANLEY
10 AUGUST 2008
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28; Ps. 105:1-6, 16-22, 45b; Rom. 10:5-15, Mt. 14; 22-33
Jesus made the disciples go over to the other side. Across the lake, across the sea, to the other side. The “other side,” which meant, for them, the land of gentiles, foreigners, strangers, the unclean. A place to stay away from. “Jesus made the disciples….go to the other side….” It was night. Nighttime was scary for those ancients. And the sea was even scarier, a place where demonic powers were said to be hiding, a place of chaos. No camps by the shore, with docks and wide porches and hammocks facing the view, places to go to for recreation and pleasure.
This is a story about Jesus’ disciples, his followers, his inner circle. Those who would later be called “the church.” In a boat. At night. On the sea. Headed across a watery fright to the alien side far from home.
Look at us, the church. And look around you, and up. We’re in a boat, too, in the “nave,” as this part of the church building is called, nave as in “navy,” as in “navigate.” You can see the curved hull up there, the beautiful wood. And here we are, sitting in it.
The disciples were in their boat, and they were afraid, afraid to go over to the other side.
Are things so different now, for us? Are we reluctant to cross over, to leave what we know, to encounter something different in our lives, to move to the “other side?” Do we share with the disciples a fear of the unknown, fear of the risk of losing what we have, fear or disgust or even just plain discomfort with new people and places and ways of life, with new ways of doing things, but especially with the new people, who are different from us? Is it hard to reach over to them?
“Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go…. to the other side…”
The disciples did as Jesus demanded. They piled into the boat and set sail. And sure enough, the sea became turbulent, just as they had feared; the boat was battered and chaos reigned.
In the early years of WW 11, on August 10, 1941, two brave leaders met in the North Atlantic. Winston Churchill and Franklin Roosevelt left the relative safety of their homelands and crossed over from their countries to the other side in secret (even their governments didn’t know what they were up to) through very stormy seas, through waters peppered with U-boats, to a rendezvous spot off the shores of Newfoundland. They met there after days of traveling to talk and listen to each other. They talked and listened and then, on the morning of August 10, the two leaders, a few dignitaries and their two ships’ companies gathered on the deck of Churchill’s ship the Prince of Wales for Morning Prayer. We don’t know all the details of that service. But we do know that one of the hymns they sang was the Navy Hymn (#608 in our Hymnal). And we know also that the British and American sailors broke ranks to stand mixed in shoulder to shoulder, American to Brit. We know that they forged together a covenant known as the Atlantic Charter, which pledged mutual support for this dangerous war time and beyond, even though the United States had not yet entered the war, a covenant promising mutual support for common principles on which they based their hopes for a better world.
Two brave men crossing to the other side of the sea, taking huge risks, to meet and listen and create something new, even at the risk of being unsure of what it would bring. A small but significant beginning.
In England, the once-in-ten years meeting of Anglican Communion bishops and their spouses has just ended. You may have read lord knows what about this Lambeth Conference, some of it useful and some of it silly and inaccurate. The best information has come from the participants, those who actually were there, sharing and listening and talking. The best thing about this decade’s Lambeth Conference, it seems, was the crossing-over to each other, bishop to bishop, spouses doing the same in their own meetings, listening to each other in respectful silence, learning about life in each others’ dioceses, hearing each others’ heart stories. No legislation, no decisions, just talking and listening. Some bishops took huge risks by even accepting the invitation to attend, as a few archbishops had announced that nobody from their part of the Anglican Communion would be traveling to England, but some of their bishops went anyway. Some bishops took huge risks by talking to other bishops whose understanding of the gospel, whose way of living the gospel, was different from their own. American bishops learned much from the stories of African and other bishops; and those bishops gained new and deeper understandings of our Episcopal Church. Small but significant beginnings.
Crossing over to the other side often involves risk. “We are lost the instant we know what the outcome of our efforts will be,” says one wise
observer. Even though the Prince of Wales was bombed and sank in the South China Sea four months after the daring rendezvous in the North Atlantic, the effects of the Churchill/Roosevelt mission reverberate still. And what kind of church would we be if we cringed at risk-taking for the sake of the gospel? God forbid that we, the church, become lost through fear of change and risk, fear of crossing to the other side.
The disciples clung to their oars in the dark of night as they battled the waves on their journey to the other side. And then, suddenly, there was Jesus, walking towards them on the water. Jesus who is there all along. “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Jesus didn’t get rid of the storm, at least not until later. Jesus simply showed up to give courage to the frightened disciples. And when Peter tried to walk on the water, like Jesus, but unlike Jesus sank like a rock, Jesus saved him.
This is a story about faith and trust. Jesus’ command to us is that we be willing to move out of our comfort into newness, to the other side, even at the risk of our being changed in the process. Jesus trusts us to do it. Our faith in the Good News doesn’t depend on our walking on the water, like Jesus, but simply in trusting Jesus’ faith in us to do what he asks. Even when our efforts are mere beginnings.
The Good News is also that Jesus is there. May we know that even in the turmoil of our journeys, Jesus is with us all along.