Words and Deeds in a Chaotic World

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday June 24, 2012, the 12th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Podcast of "Words and Deeds in a Chaotic World" (MP3)

1Samuel 17:32-49

Psalm 9:9-20

2Corinthians 6:1-13

Mark 4:35-41

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

Friends, it is good to be back with you. As you’ve probably heard, we’ve had a chaotic week. We discovered the distance from the Marshall Wal-Mart to our house is just over 1,253 miles if you go by way of Mexico, Missouri. We also discovered that some phone calls sometimes chaos has a way of overwhelming life. So it is good to be back home where we belong, away from the chaos. So now, if you will indulge me, I want to start at the beginning. In fact, I’m beginning with the beginning of the beginning.

Genesis 1:1-2 reads, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” I begin here to share a word that doesn’t get a lot of play when looking at the creation story, formless. In this setting formless means “land reduced to primaeval [sic] chaos”[1] When God created the heavens and the earth; creation began with utter and complete disorder. There was nothing but chaos. It took the act of creation to bring order to the primeval chaos of existence.

In ancient times, water embodied chaos. So God built a barrier, a vault, between the waters of order and the waters of chaos. Continuing with verses 6 and 7, “And God said, ‘Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water.’ So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so.”

God would later use the waters of chaos to wipe creation from the face of the earth in the story the flood. The chaos of the sea is the home of the Leviathan, the ancient dragon of the sea. The Behemoth of Job is a creation of the seas and the waters. The abyss, the depths of the oceans and seas is the place of the bottomless, unfathomed, and incomprehensibly deep underworld. The sea was considered the personification of death itself. Ultimately, the scriptural image of the waters and the seas and the storms and the winds is danger.[2] 

In our enlightened age, even for people who do not know the history or the mystery, storm-tossed waters continue to be a metaphor for the turmoil of living.

Let’s look at Mark’s gospel.  In the midst of the storm, in the midst of the sea, in the midst of certain death; Jesus was resting on a cushion. We read that he was sleeping, but scripture goes further, he was sleeping on a cushion. The Galilean galley didn’t have a lido deck where Jesus could rest in the stern of the ship. On the contrary, these were working vessels for working men. There wasn’t a place designed on the ship to go take a nap. Still Jesus was resting on a cushion. 

Jesus knew there would be a storm. I imagine that as soon as the skies began to boil everyone knew there was going to be a storm. At least one-third of the disciples were seasoned fishermen and the rest of them were locals. As Jesus notes in Luke’s gospel,[3] these disciples knew how to interpret the look of earth and sky. So we can safely say, even though the storm rose suddenly while they were on the water, the men in the boats on the sea knew hard weather was coming up. Still Jesus takes a nap-on a cushion.

Soon everyone on the boat was, well, let’s say they were emotionally wrought. They were in a big old panic. They were losing their collective minds. Everyone had a pretty good idea what kind of danger they were in and the fishermen knew what kind of danger they were in, and Jesus slept.

I imagine by this point, everyone who saw the Lord catching forty winks on a cushion was wondering when or if he would wake up and grab a line or pick up a bucket to bail or something. Jesus had not yet revealed his messianic identity, so they weren’t expecting anything miraculous, but c’mon, lend a hand.

I also imagine their conversations included the sentence “Wake him up!” followed by its mate “No, you wake him up!” Finally, some of the disciples got the fuzzy end of the lollypop and scripture tells us what followed, “The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’”

Now, there’s a sentence right out of the chaos, “don’t you care?” And it’s not an unfamiliar sentence to these disciples on the water in the storm. The story of the prophet Jonah[4] features this scene:

Then the Lord sent a great wind on the sea, and such a violent storm arose that the ship threatened to break up. All the sailors were afraid and each cried out to his own god. And they threw the cargo into the sea to lighten the ship.

But Jonah had gone below deck, where he lay down and fell into a deep sleep. The captain went to him and said, “How can you sleep? Get up and call on your god! Maybe he will take notice of us so that we will not perish.”

In the midst of the chaos, Jonah takes a siesta as the world crumbles around him. This leaves us the captain to wake the one person not feverishly praying to his God. To paraphrase this captain, a man who cries out to his passenger, “Maybe your God will care enough not to drown us, maybe your God will care enough to keep the chaos from swallowing us. Do something!”

There is an old saying attributed to St Francis of Assisi, “Preach the gospel always, if necessary use words.” Francis is telling us to get up off the couch and do something with our salvation. It’s a good thought, but it denies an important truth. It forgets that when our God created the cosmos, he spoke. God didn’t pull the ingredients out of the cabinet and pop it in the Easy Bake. God spoke and God created. In our reading, Jesus spoke and the storm was calmed.

You have often heard me say all translation is interpretation, and this is true. In our reading, the New Revised Standard Version tells us Jesus awakens and says, “Peace! Be still!” Isn’t this wonderful? Can’t you see Jesus standing in the boat in the midst of the raging sea, stretching his arms and saying “Shalom!” It’s Jesus offering his peace over the terror of our lives. It’s a nice picture, but it’s not what Mark’s gospel means.

The New International Version gets it better in this case. Jesus cries out “Quiet! Be still!” The word Jesus uses is a cry to tell the wind to shut up. He’s telling the wind stop and be still. The Greek word tells us that Jesus is telling the wind to be muzzled.[5] Jesus binds the storm and the chaos in a muzzle. He’s not offering his peace. He’s not giving the wind and the storm his shalom. He’s binding the chaos of life now and forever from the midst of the tempest. In a word, in one word, Jesus binds the chaos of the world under his control for all times.

This is what I mean about words and deeds. For our Lord and God, words are deeds. Our God creates a world that he declares “very good” simply speaking it into existence. Our Lord binds the chaos of the world and places it under his control.

For us, this has been a time of chaos. By the way, if you think I’m standing in the pulpit talking about you specifically, you’re not completely wrong. When I was younger, I often felt like my pastor examined my soul when writing Sunday’s sermon. Please know that the reason this feeling has truth is that what I am saying is universal; we all know the chaos of our lives. We are all being thrown around in our dinghies on the sea of chaos. It’s the reason why the reader of Mark’s gospel could hear the story of Jonah in the words of the disciples; everyone was familiar with the stories. Just as important, they were familiar with the words.

A part of our personal chaos included the death of my sister’s husband Tom. Between Tom’s death and my mother-in-law Toni’s health, the chaos of our lives made their way across the life of the Elders, Georgia,[6] and this congregation. During Tom’s funeral, the Reverend Terry Kukuk of the First Presbyterian Church in Mexico, Missouri shared these words:[7]

Psalm 23 (the Lord is my shepherd…) was read this afternoon because Mary Jane (my sister) said it was Tom’s favorite. It’s a favorite Psalm for many. Somehow, these ancient words have stretched themselves out over the generations and found a home in many hearts. The image of God as shepherd brings comfort and reassurance in many moments for life. These words often act like an anchor, holding us when so much around us is falling apart.

We have come to associate Psalm 23 with funerals but when you really stop to consider the words of this Psalm you discover that this is a Psalm about living. For it locates the daily activities of life in the presence of God. This Psalm calls us to have confidence that in all circumstances of life we can turn to God and trust in God’s steadfast faithfulness.

In these words, Rev. Kukuk clearly and wonderfully answered one of the most problematic questions asked about scripture.  Jesus does not promise that there will be no more storms.  He promises that he will be with us in the storms.  Jesus doesn’t promise to end the pain.  He promises to be with us while we are in pain. 

In Leipzig, Martin Luther was asked, “Where will you be, Brother Martin, when church, state, princes and people turn against you?” Luther answered: “Why, then as now, in the hands of Almighty God.”[8]  So it was with Martin Luther, so it was with Jonah, so it was with the disciples, so it is with Mary Jane, so it is with Toni, so it is with us all.

Here is what this means to me: In the face of everything that did happen, was happening, and is going to happen, Jesus had a peace about him that was unknown to everyone else on the sea. The disciples knew they were in danger. The waves were breaking over the bow of the ship and it was taking on water. The boat was filling with so much water that it was being swamped by the sea, the wind, and the waves. 

The disciples were worried, I am sure; they knew their situation was perilous.  In the meantime, here’s Jesus, napping on the stern, on a cushion.  So when they were asking Jesus if he cared, the disciples were probably just hoping Jesus would grab a bucket or a line and help stem the rising tide of the storm. 

But what they got was different; they got the word of the Lord crying, “Be still.”  “Be still;” this is the same phrase Jesus used in the first chapter of Mark when expelling the unclean spirit from a man.  Now he uses this phrase to calm the chaos of the wind and the water and the sea. 

The disciples knew they needed a miracle, they didn’t know the miracle was taking a nap on the boat.  In ancient times, boats were seen as symbols of the church.  It was a great ark that saved humanity in the time of the great flood.  The boat was integral to the story of Jonah.  Jesus spent enough time on the docks to earn his union card.  Is it any wonder that we are called to the vessel where Jesus is by the rudder?  

Our reading reminds us that we are called to join the one who brings order to the storms, the rage, and the chaos in the boat we call the body of Christ, the church. This is what God calls us to do. Just like the lives of the disciples who are called to follow Jesus then, we are called now. We are called to be in the boat with Jesus through the chaos of our lives together. 

As the old song goes, “Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?”[9] Yes, we do. The love of God is with us in the waters of our baptism, the very waters that were separated at creation by the vault; the waters which Jesus stills by the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the love that muzzles the chaos of the sea and promises to remain with us through the storm of our lives.

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[1]  ‘Wht from the Brown Driver Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon, 1907.

[2] Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible, Chaos entry

[3] Luke 12:56

[4] Jonah 1:4-6

[5] A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. Bauer, Danker Ed’s. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000, page 1060.

[6] Georgia is our church secretary and instrumental musician. She is a gem.

[7] Editor’s note—The quote from Rev. Kukuk is in italics. The regular font is my comment. –PAA

[8] Luther quote from HomileticsOnline.com, http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/illustrations_for_installment.asp?installment_id=2723, retrieved June 21, 2009.

[9] Gordon Lightfoot, “The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald.”

Storytelling

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday June 17, 2012, the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Happy Father's Day.

Podcast of "Storytelling" (MP3)

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13

Psalm 20

2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17

Mark 4:26-34

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

On August 1, 1981, a small cadre of subscribers to one New Jersey cable television provider was introduced to the fledgling moments of what has become a juggernaut. At this moment, the screen showed the launch of the Space Shuttle Columbia on not just its maiden voyage, but the maiden space voyage of the shuttle program. It was followed by shots of the launch of Apollo 11 and still photos of an astronaut looking at a strange flag. The flag, while its logo did not change, its color schemes did. The image was the logo of a brand new cable network. In that moment, using the images of the greatest technological achievements and the greatest journey of exploration humanity has ever known, MTV started its journey.

The first video shown was by a New Wave Synthpop duo called “The Buggles” titled “Video Killed the Radio Star.” How's that for a prophecy?

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Ted Turner isn’t above some sweet adulation. A few years later, Turner started the Cable Music Channel. Turner’s enterprise was geared to play a broader mix of music than MTV’s Rock and Pop format. After only one month of losing money, Turner sold the venture to MTV showing that flattery goes only so far. The Cable Music Channel became the domain of MTV’s first sister venture. Where MTV was geared toward a younger audience, this new venture was geared toward a slightly older audience. Video Hits One, VH1, became the Adult Contemporary version of Music Television.

Soon the MTV family of networks decided that a little variety was in order. Beyond music videos came music video news, live concerts, and concert movies. From this came movies with a rock and roll motif. One of the early examples of the reality TV craze was MTV’s “The Real World.” This eventually devolved into a debacle known as “The Jersey Shore.” Let me just add that if you have never heard of these shows you will become no better informed about life by learning about the MTV Networks versions of this particular genre.

But among these shows is one that allowed musical acts tell the stories behind their songs. “VH1 Storytellers” allowed artists to tell the stories about their music, writing experiences and memories. Then they would perform the song in front of an intimate audience. One of the great things about “Storytellers” is that it would allow bands and songwriters to share details about songs that might otherwise be missing. It would also allow the artist to disavow spurious interpretations of their songs.

There is one singer that may never appear on “Storytellers” because of the importance he places on the listener’s experience. Seal Henry Samuel, more commonly known as Seal, wrote in a set of liner notes that he doesn’t put lyrics to his songs on CD’s because he believes how the listener decodes the music and lyrics is at least as important as the work he puts into writing and recording the songs. Of course no matter how important this was to him years ago, Seal’s lyrics are now found in his CD booklets.

I tell this overly long story to make some points about storytelling. The first point I want to make is that some stories work for some people and don’t for others. If you haven’t paid a hoot-and-a-holler to music on television then this story just bored you to death. You may have wondered where it was going, then again, you might not have cared a lick and prayed I would finish so we can get to Catfish Express early enough to avoid the line. That last phrase was code for the notorious expression “beat the Baptists,” but that’s another point.

The choice of words in telling a story is the difference between making a news report and spinning a yarn. Good storytelling includes words and phrases that mean something more to the listener. We’re church goers, we’re mainline Protestants, we start worship at 11:00 AM; so when I say “beat the Baptists” I’m saying more than just “get to Catfish Express early enough to avoid the line.” That little phrase tells the world not only who we are but who we aren’t. It provides a grain of context to the story that ordinary reporting does not.

This goes to another point, one made by Seal, listening to a story is as important as telling the story. Creating the message is what communication experts call this encoding the message. What the listener does is decoding the message. Further, listening, decoding, is the one element of storytelling the speaker has no control over. I can try to encode, to mold my words to touch everyone, but I know not everyone will decode, will hear the story the same way. This encoding and decoding process is one of the ways storytelling goes awry.

I’ve mentioned context, but culture is another important element to good storytelling. This is where I want to start talking about holy writ. One often shared complaint is that scripture is “no longer relevant.” Now, of course I disagree. What kind of Minister of Word and Sacrament would I be if I didn’t disagree? Now this I will say, the most basic and most important truths of scripture are still quite relevant. The themes of scripture remain true to all human existence too. What may or may not be as relevant are the methods used to share the gospel.

At issue here is that life in the ancient Mid-East under the rule of the Roman Empire is completely different from anything we experience here in 21^st Century East Texas. If you say that the geography, topography, and climate of the Texas Hill Country isn’t that different from ancient Palestine I would agree with you. There is some shared reference there. What I would remind you is that in ancient Palestine you couldn’t drive ten miles to the Chevron for an Icee.

Much that seems so obvious to us now meant something different in everyday life in the time of our Lord. One pertinent example is that in the next few months there will be increased chatter among Presbyterians about “biblical marriage.” It is vital to us to note that in Genesis there are several different kinds of “biblical marriage” and only one of them is “one man to one woman.” Frankly, that is the only wedding service the Session will approve in this sanctuary and I’m fine with that, but to say it is the only scriptural form is wrong. This is what happens when we impose the framework of our culture over the words of another.

Culture, context, language; these things fall neatly into the encoding and decoding of the gospel message. If the message is shared in a way that can’t be deciphered by the listener then the message is lost. If it is shared with loaded language then a different message may be sent. When loaded or jargon filled language is used walls can rise before the message can be fully sent. In fact, what I just said about marriage might have proven that very point.

Storytelling is a wonderful way of sharing a message, sharing the gospel, but it is not without its pitfalls.

Mark’s gospel tells us that Jesus chose to speak using parables, ancient stories loaded with broad concepts and multilayered messages. Some people find that very annoying. Some days I find it annoying!

Why didn’t Jesus come right out and say what he meant? Why did he leave behind all these cryptic sayings, loaded with innuendo, destined to be interpreted and reinterpreted, instead of a crisp code of laws or a stack of essays with titles like “How to Be a Good Disciple,” “A Brief Definition of the Kingdom of God” or “Seven Key Features of the Coming Kingdom and What This Means to You.”

Instead we have this culturally ancient, cross-eyed, cryptic, incomplete, awkward, and at times seemingly absurd yet eternally true collection of sayings known as the parables of Jesus.

A list of rules never changes, never adapts. Written essays are like insects encased in amber—beautiful and precisely formed, but no longer vital and alive. It takes the fluid format of a parable—a story that can never be told quite the same way twice—to keep breathing mysterious and glorious new life into the Good News. This way these stories are still vital 2,000 years after they were first told. With their many facets they are far more illusive and mysterious than hard and fast rules.

If you still think Jesus would have gotten his points across better with hard and fast rules, I ask you to remember the last time you sat down and really enjoyed reading Leviticus or the first few chapters of Numbers.

Then consider this; if the hard and fast rules and customs of family status and inheritance were followed in our reading from the Old Testament, the Call of David would never have happened. If Samuel had just anointed the eldest son as tradition dictated, Jesse’s eldest, the boy whose name means “God is Father,” Eliab[1], would have become king. Instead, the Lord is in charge and Samuel follows. He anoints the eighth and youngest son of Jesse. The rules were broken and it worked out pretty well.

We come to know that by preaching to his ancient and modern disciples in parables, Jesus lets us make the Good News become our own story, our own experience. None of us are farmers and few of us are gardeners, yet as we are swept up in these stories about seeds, we ourselves become part of a new parable—the parable of our lives. Taken all together, our individual experiences of the kingdom, our personal stories of God’s work and witness in our lives, end up creating a new gospel.

Know this; we are mistaken if we think our tradition stems from only the four gospels of the scriptural canon. As well as Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; the church has two millennia of other gospels to celebrate; the books of Augustine and Aquinas, Luther and Calvin, Bonhoeffer and Barth. These “gospels” have become vital parts of our tradition because of their eternal reliance on the power of God and the reconciling work of Christ.

There are still other gospels that may not be quite so well-known, but have tremendous influence in our lives in this part of the body of Christ. We also remember “The Gospel According to Grandma;” or “The Gospel According to Mr. Al, Vicke, and Miss Marie;”[2] or “The Gospel According to That Kid at Camp Whose Name I Can’t Even Remember.” These personal parables enlighten our lives and the gospel.

All of us are in the process of writing our own gospels—our own accounts of experiencing the Good News of the coming kingdom in our midst. Writing a gospel through the very act of living is part of being a disciple of Christ. Sharing our gospel through the very act of living is also part of being a disciple of Christ. It is why Jesus gave the power of the parable to all those listening to his words. Storytelling is one of the most basic practices common to all human communities.

Stories connect us to one another, to our ancestors, to our world and to our Lord. In this week’s gospel text, Mark notes that when Jesus spoke to the crowds around him, he “spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables.” Jesus knew that only parables had the ability to make the Good News of the kingdom a potent reality for every listening ear.

The mystery of how this works is glorious. People want proofs, rules, and standards; and Jesus gives us parables. William Sloane Coffin, created a godly monologue about our want for rules and God’s gift of parables in these words from a 1980 Advent sermon:

These creatures of mine are very clever.  They are always looking for evidence to make intelligently selfish decisions. That’s why their evangelists, instead of the freedom they need, give them all the proofs they want. I have told these evangelists there are no proofs for my existence, only witnesses. Nevertheless they go on proving one ineffable mystery after another with all the ardor of orthodoxy stamping out heresy. But I am the Lord God, and will not seek to overcome selfishness by appealing to selfish motives. So, as the prophet promised, I will send my people a son. I will seek to captivate their hearts, not conquer them. I will seek to open their minds, not crack their skulls. They, of course, will continue to fight me as they always have, but the contest between us will not be one of power—only of endurance. I will show them that true conquerors are not those who can inflict the most, but those who can suffer the most. I will show them that love never ends.[3]

  How is it that the stories of a Jewish carpenter recorded so long ago resonate so clearly with us now? Well, that is one of the blessings of our Messiah the wonderful storyteller. Words that could have been codified to provide hard and fast rules have value for the time they are written. Parables offer something better, truth, truth that resonates over time. This is the true value of the parable. This is the value of storytelling. Thanks be to God who is the author and teller of the greatest story ever told.

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[1] Brown, F..  Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon, The.  Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2001, page 45.

[2] These are the men and women who provide Children’s Sermons at First Presbyterian in Marshall.

[3] Coffin, William Sloane, The Collected Sermons of William Sloane Coffin, The Riverside Years, Vol. 1, Louisville, Westminster-John Knox Press, 2008, page 387.