photo by Lara Herscovitch
“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
After 4 years as Minister at Center Church on the Green in New Haven, Sunday, December 29 was my last sermon. (Which means the two past Sundays I got to sleep in!)
I had been pondering what to leave with the congregation. I searched the scripture and sought spiritual guidance for weeks. Several things came to me but none of them felt right.
Leading up to my big transition day, I was asked about my favorite hymn by Eleanor, our Music Director. I struggled with the answer, because it depends on the day. Some days certain hymns speak more to me than others. I love most of them but could never choose a favorite.
I was reminded of when I was a kid, discussing with my older brother and sister which of us was our parents’ favorite. We all agreed it probably wasn’t my older brother (he’s always been a pain). We decided it was a tie between my sister and me, though she had an advantage being the only girl of us three. Still, my parents never let us know.
Eleanor’s question made me wonder if, for my last sermon, I might revisit my favorite one. Which of course led to the next question, “What is my favorite sermon?” After all those Sundays, a couple hundred could be candidates. Did I have a favorite? How could I choose? Same dilemma as picking a favorite kid: I love them all.
However, thinking about my future plans (buying a sailboat and island-hopping in the Caribbean), I thought of this sermon from 2016. I offer it here with gratitude for the time at Center Church; the community, the faith, the connection.
I hope it reaches anyone sailing through a storm who needs a reminder that you are not alone.
***
It started off as a pleasant trip. I was hitching a ride with my buddies Vic and Jim, plus Jim’s little Boston Terrier, Hobie. We were on “Snow Bird,” a Schock 35-foot sailboat. We were delivering it to Milford Yacht Club for a race at sunrise the next morning. I was a neo, but Vic and Jimmy were experienced sailors. Even Hobie had more experience than me; he was registered with USA Sailing and was crew in several races.
We took off from Duck Island Yacht Club in Westbrook, CT. After getting out into Long Island Sound a bit, we set the auto pilot and relaxed. We had the engine running and figured we’d motor the entire way, rather than sail. We needed to burn up some of the gas to make the boat lighter for the regatta.
But a steady 12-knot wind arrived. If that wind held steady, we’d only need to make two or three tacks and we’re there. So, we raised the mainsail and off we went. We thought about flying the spinnaker, but thought better to not risk it, with the regatta the next day. Paul, the boat owner, would KILL us if we blew out the chute before the race.
It didn’t matter. The sun was shining. The wind was blowing. We could see for miles across the Sound, all the way to Long Island. Jimmy Buffett was blaring out the stereo, “Wastin’ away again in Margaritaville…” and we were sailing.
Life couldn’t be any sweeter. There was nothing to do but mix a Dark ‘n Stormy, pour a beer for Hobie (Hobie loved beer), and sit back and relax for the next 8 hours or so. Maybe less, with that wind. Life was great! We should arrive in Milford with hours to spare.
As we approached Clinton, I was down below for some reason, and I felt a shift in the wind. The ride started getting bumpier. I came up and saw my buddies frantically dropping the mainsail. “What’s up?” I asked. Jim, with both hands on a halyard, just pointed with his head towards Long Island. My knees went weak. My mouth dropped. You couldn’t see Long Island anymore. The sky over there looked pitch black which only made the frequent flashes of lightning even more menacing. A storm, coming our way. And fast!
I went back below to make sure everything was stowed away while Vic secured all the tackle on deck. We were bouncing around so much that Jim had to stay on the tiller, needed to help out the autopilot. Hobie found a dry spot on the low side and settled in for the ride.
I just made it back on deck when Jim shouted, “Hang on! Here she comes!” And it slammed us! A torrential rain. Hail the size of small marbles. Wind gusts up to 40 knots and 5-foot waves, knocking us around like a toy boat in the bathtub with a rambunctious 2-year-old. But worst of all was the noise! The boat banging, the waves crashing, the wind howling. It was like being stuck in the middle of a vacuum cleaner.
It was my first storm and I was a little afraid. No… I was VERY afraid! But I didn’t panic. I was confident. I knew we had a solid boat, a strong crew – Vic and Jimmy, at least. And we can’t forget Hobie… still curled up in his cubby. And the autopilot was cranking along fine. Plus, Jimmy Buffet was still blaring through the speakers, louder than the storm. Even in all the chaos, none of us had spilled our Dark ‘n Stormies.
So, life was still good, just a little wet and bumpy. The hail hurt a bit, but it seemed everything was under control. Vic asked me how I was doing. “This ain’t so bad,” I proudly replied. Toasted the storm and took another sip.
Spoke too soon. It was like the storm heard me and didn’t like my cockiness. Winds started gusting at closer to 50 knots. The waves were bigger. And now there was lightning.
Have you ever been sailing? Let me paint the picture. A sailboat is basically a platform with a tall metal pole poking up out the middle of it. So, I’m riding on a floating lightning rod, in the middle of Long Island Sound during an electrical storm.
No sooner do I think this when BLAM! The little hairs on my arms tingle. All the lights go out. All the power goes out. Without the autopilot to control it, the boat heels heavily to starboard. Jim grabbed the tiller and pushed away to right us. Vic handed out flashlights and glow sticks to connect to our lifejackets. Then he ducked below to see if he could get the electric back on.
I maintained a death grip on a stanchion and prayed.
I distinctly remember thinking about the story in Mark 4:35-41. I understood the disciples. They had just come off a tour with the greatest teacher and healer in the region. They were big shots. Folks were following them around. Life was great. And now they had a little time to rest. They were on a boat. Away from the crowds. Things were going great. But then up pops a storm! Their confidence was tested.
And here we were, everything going great and suddenly we’re about to be taken out by a storm. I had just made my last car payment. I had just finished my first year at Yale Divinity School. And I was doing my new favorite thing. I was on a boat, I was sailing! This was supposed to be a perfect time.
It was pitch black on the water; all we had were a couple of flashlights and some glow sticks. I had the horrifying task of crawling up and attaching lights to the bow so other vessels could see us (assuming somebody else was dumb enough to be out there in that storm). Working the bow is not an easy trek on a clear day; in the middle of a thunderstorm, it’s treacherous. I inched my way towards the front trying to maintain 3 points of contact the whole way. Often, I’d lose contact when the boat crested a wave then dropped out from under me. My only light was the greenish glow from the stick and the frequent flashes of lightning. I was calling on the power of Jesus, muttering under my breath: “peace be still… peace be still… peace… PLEASE be still…”
I’ve always assumed that the disciples woke Jesus up because they thought he could do something about the storm. I figured they knew he had the power to stop it. But now it is clear that is not the case. Because the disciples were surprised. After Jesus did something about the storm, they were afraid. So, they could not have expected the miracle. Even though they’d spent the last few weeks traveling with him and watching him perform miracle after miracle, they still didn’t know who he was. They still didn’t know what he could do.
I believe the disciples woke Jesus up because they wanted him to suffer with them. Misery loves company. It’s not fair that Jesus sleeps while the rest of us panic. You can hear it in their voices when they woke him up: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” There is nothing in that question that would suggest that they thought Jesus could do anything. They just couldn’t believe he could sleep through the storm. He’s supposed to be their leader! He’s supposed to be their teacher! He’s supposed to be their protector! He’s supposed to be their deliverer. He’s supposed to be the Messiah. He’s supposed to be the son of God! How could he be so disconnected to their plight? How could he not see what peril they were in? How could he let them continue to suffer like they were? How DARE he sleep in this time of crisis! “GET UP JESUS… CAN’T YOU SEE? WE’RE ABOUT TO DIE!”
Jesus woke up and the first thing he did was stop the wind and calm the sea. He stopped the wind and calmed the sea. You see, the storm wasn’t that big of a deal to Jesus. He knew it for what it was; just a lot of huff and puff. Nothing really to worry about. That’s why he was able to ignore it for so long. But now the noise and bouncing around was in the way. He had to do something. Jesus had to deal with the disciples’ fear. He had to let them know they had nothing to fear. As long as they were with Jesus, nothing could touch them. Not even this wild and terrifying storm. So, he spoke first to the wind.
It’s hard to hold a conversation with storm winds howling around you. It’s hard to do anything when you’re in the middle of the storm, other than trying to survive it. But Jesus wasn’t worried about the storm. He had to deal with the people – his disciples. The wind was not only causing their panic, it was preventing him from dealing with that fear, simply because they couldn’t hear him. The storm was too loud. So, he dealt with it. “Wind… STOP!” And the wind stopped.
But the boat was still bouncing all over the place because the sea was still agitated; the wind had it all worked up. It hadn’t yet received the message that the storm was over. So, Jesus spoke to the sea. Spoke as if calming a wild animal or an agitated child. One that is normally calm but can be a little unpredictable when upset. “Shhhh…. Peace… it’s okay… be still.” And faster than it came on, all was calm. Storm dealt with.
Jesus turns to the disciples and asked them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
One wonders how you could travel with someone so long and work with them closely and witness him perform so many miracles and still be surprised by the stuff he does. One wonders why it took the disciples so long to start to expect the unexpected from Jesus. One wonders when they would get to the point where they’d hear a story about Jesus doing something spectacular – healing, lifting someone out of a deep pit, changing someone’s life – and respond, “Yep, that’s my Jesus. That’s what he does.” One wonders when we will have that much faith.
One wonders.
Storms are a favorite metaphor for poets and philosophers. Storms immediately paint a picture of torment and turmoil. We can all identify with periods in our lives that we refer to as being stormy. Where it feels like we’re being tossed about, like a boat in the middle of the sea. Like we have no control. The instruments we were depending on to guide us don’t work anymore. We took it off autopilot and are trying to take back control of where we’re going… but mostly all we can do is hold on and ride the storm where it takes us. We’re being battered. The waves are washing over us. All of our commands of “Peace… be still…” are ignored. And so, we cry out “Jesus, where are you? I think I’m about to DIE!”
About the time we guessed we should be nearing West Haven the storm suddenly stopped. It didn’t diminish in intensity. It didn’t slowly fade out. It just stopped. We looked behind us and it was still raging. It was almost like we’d passed through a curtain. On one side major storm; on the other, perfect weather. There were signs that the storm had passed; debris floating in the water and that ‘just rained’ smell on the wind. But the sea was calm. The wind was steady, and the stars were starting to poke through the covering clouds.
The instruments were still out and there was a faint cordite smell – suggesting we were in or near a lightning strike. But the analog compasses and the COG/SOG worked. By some miracle we were right on course. We had charts and flashlights. The motor still worked. We were good. Vic went below to make sure everything stayed put. I tightened things up on deck. Suddenly Jimmy Buffet starts blaring through the speakers again, now singing a Lyle Lovett tune: “If I had boat. I’d go out on the ocean. And if I had a pony. I’d ride it on my boat…”
Everything was fine again. We still didn’t have digital instruments; GPS was out so the autopilot was useless. But the storm was a memory and a good story.
When Jesus questioned the disciples’ faith, I think he was perplexed by why they felt the storm needed to be stopped. Why did they doubt that they would get through the storm?
We made it into our slip at Milford Yacht Club right on time. I was never so happy to get my feet on solid ground. My buddies said I handled myself well and the old salts at the club welcomed me into their guild. I’d survived my first storm at sea.
It wasn’t my last storm. I’ve been through many more since then. And I expect that if I stay on the water, I’ll have to go through a bunch more. And each time I’ll hate going through it. But each time I have faith; I know that I can get through it. When it feels like it’s too much for me to handle, I can wake up Jesus. He’s just a prayer away.
If you sail your boat in this sea called life, you WILL run into a storm every now and again. Some may seem like a drizzle. Some may seem like a hurricane, threatening to rip your little ship apart. We can’t avoid our storms. Not always. Not often. But we can get through them. Just hang on. Keep doing the things you know to do.
Like the disciples, we also have Jesus in our ship. Rest assured, he is still there. It may not seem like he’s paying attention. He’s there, resting on a pillow. But with you. Just a prayer away. So, if you need him, call him. He will come speak to your storm, rebuke the winds and calm the seas. He will show you that regardless of what’s happening around you, the peace and stillness you seek can be found in yourself. And with that knowledge, you can get through any storm.
Ashe`. Amen.
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To get in touch with Kevin directly: revkev@baobabtreestudios.tv