12th Sunday 2024
Job 38:1, 8-11; 2 Cor 5: 14-17; Mark 4:35-41
In your mind’s eye, where do you see that episode on the lake taking place? If you have been to the Holy Land, you will probably be able to envisage a storm springing up on the Sea of Galilee. I haven’t been there, but I did spend two years in Keswick, so I always picture the boat struggling against the wind on Derwentwater.
Generally, do you form a mental picture as you read or listen to the Gospel? It seems to happen automatically for me. St. Ignatius Loyola took this a stage further in developing a method of prayer, which many people find helpful. I have to confess that it is a method which doesn’t really work for me, but that is neither here nor there. It is important THAT we pray; the method is secondary, and we should pray in a manner which works for us, though there is no harm in having to struggle with prayer at times—indeed, I would say that it is inevitable.
Basically, St. Ignatius proposes inserting yourself into a biblical scene, and accepting whatever follows. Allow yourself to take in the sights, the sounds, the smells of your imagined surroundings. Let yourself be absorbed by the scene and allow the Holy Spirit to take you wherever the Spirit wills. A vivid scene such as today’s may be fruitful territory for such a way of praying.
Leaving that aside, what do you make of this incident? Jesus is with the disciples in the boat: He IS with them. When the storm springs up, they panic, even though they are in His presence. They shake Him awake and yell at Him, and He answers their prayer, though He also rebukes them for their lack of faith. What does this passage have to say to us?
Firstly, it is inevitable that there will be storms in our lives. I cannot imagine that anyone goes through life completely undisturbed. It may be a serious illness, a job loss, a bereavement, an uprooting from one place to another, a financial crisis, problems in a marriage or in a family, depression, a moral dilemma—you name it, there will be something. Panic may be a natural response, but it is never a helpful one.
Secondly, Jesus will be there. He will not have deserted us, however grim things may seem. Indeed, He will probably be at the heart of the storm, as in that that other account when, walking on the water, He spoke out of the very situation which frightened the disciples saying “Courage! It is I. Do noy be afraid”.
When our initial panic subsides, we need to ask “Where is Jesus in this seemingly overwhelming storm?” What is He saying to us? What is He asking of us? Is He teaching us something, and, if so, what?
Very often, our times of crisis, of struggle, of suffering, prove to be our times of greatest growth. In them and through them, God may be showing us a new truth about ourselves, a new direction for our lives, a strength which we didn’t realise that we had. In those times, He may be giving us a share in His Son’s Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, from which Jesus emerged with a new determination, and a new strength to face the trials which lay ahead. Remember too that we are told in the Letter to the Colossians (1:24) that our sufferings are helping to complete Jesus’ own sufferings, and consequently are helping to redeem the world.
Whilst accepting that Jesus is with us, we may feel that He is keeping His head down, as He did literally on the boat while He slept. What do we do then? When the disciples woke Him, He rebuked them, not for disturbing His rest, but for their fear, and for their lack of faith. The implication is that, had they trusted Him, He would have brought them safely through the crisis.
Perhaps then we should attempt to develop a serenity of trust in the Lord, recognising that He is with us, and relying on Him to keep us from harm. That, it seems, would be the ideal approach. Yet notice something: even though He criticises them, He does what they ask. Perhaps their behaviour has been second best, but it has achieved the desired result. They may have lost the opportunity to learn more—hence their question at the end—but at least they are still alive, and will learn further lessons in the future: lessons which they will still fail sometimes to take to heart.
This brings up the question again: what is this incident saying to us? Ideally, we should keep a deep trust in Our Lord to do what is best, but if we cannot rise to that, then we should take the second best course. We should shake Him awake, we should bellow in His ear. Don’t be afraid to use the disciples’ prayer: “Master, do you not care? We are going down.” When the crisis is overwhelming, and serenity is beyond our grasp, then it is worth risking a little annoyance on God’s part by giving Him a good yell.
