The Rev. Eliza Linley
Readings:
Job 38:1-11
Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
Mark 4:35-41
Jesus says to the disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” And they say, “It’s getting dark, the wind’s coming up, it looks like it’s going to storm: why would you want to do that?” The storm comes up and sure enough, they are terrified. The Other Side. It represents everything for us that’s dark, scary. It’s the big risk. In Mexico, when you talk about El Otro Lado, everybody knows what you mean. Even farther south, in Central America it means the same thing: It’s here. It’s crossing the border to El Norte in search of something better. To make some money. So my widowed mother won’t live in poverty. So my kid won’t be drafted by the narcotraficantes. So my daughter won’t be raped by the gangs. But why would you risk everything, at what cost? They don’t like us. There are laws against us. We’ll be discriminated against. They’ll lock you up. They’ll take your children away at the border. But really what choice is there? Life here is just too hard.
When I think of the disciples cowering in the bottom of the boat, I think of the 629 refugees from Libya on board the charity boat Aquarius, stranded for 36 hours in the middle of the Mediterranean, being turned away by Italy, then by Malta, until finally being accepted by Spain. Imagine being a mother in Libya, knowing that your teenager, you baby was on board that boat, not knowing if that child of yours, one of over 200 unaccompanied minors, would survive. June 20 was the International Day of the Refugee and yet, here as in Europe, borders are closing. Imagine being a mother in Guatemala and knowing that your child is riding on top of a boxcar in the blazing sun and freezing nighttime to get to the Other Side before crossing the desert, maybe on foot.
Fear is a powerful motivator. It drives refugees from their homes, and it faces them as they flee to a foreign country. Fear also motivates those whose borders are closing, and it’s an effective political tool. In Mark’s gospel, the disciples are afraid of the storm, and then, after Jesus stills the waves, they’re afraid of HIM! What does Jesus say more than anything else in Scripture? “Be not afraid!” and why? Because fear is part of the human condition. We’re all afraid of the other side. It’s just different for each of us. For most of us, it’s fear of the unknown. Fear of an upcoming operation, or the possibility of divorce, or maybe the possibility of marriage, or a new job, or loss of income, or loss of a home. Maybe, for a young person, it’s becoming an adult. For some of us, it’s retirement. Who will I be if I’m not working? And then, there’s the other side we all have to face: of death.
Then, we’re probably all afraid of the Other, in one way or another. We may cross the street to avoid tangling with a person who seems to be mentally ill. Some are afraid of people who look different from ourselves, whose skin a different color, or who speak a different language. How do we live alongside of Others in our community? Do we change them, or do they change us? The community Mark wrote for was worried about the Other. If Gentiles come into this Jewish community, will they consent to be circumcised? Will they follow our dietary laws? What if they interpret scripture differently? How do we accept someone who looks different, or doesn’t speak our language? What if these others are fearful, and want to do us harm?
We all make these crossings into the unknown all the time. It may be as small as meeting someone new or trying a new thing. Yet every crossing feels like we’re sailing in the dark. And an increased pace of change brings with it increased stress. How do we cope when the institutions and structures around us seem to be shaking on their foundations, when it seems like they can’t be counted on any more?
When I heard about children and even infants being ripped from their parents’ arms at the border, it just made me sick, and I’m sure many of you felt the same way. Think how traumatic it must be for those kids, and for their parents. One official from the last administration worried about what it’s done to the border patrol agents: how do they feel when they go home at night? What do we do when our life situation changes, when the wind shifts and the waters rise and the resources we used to count on aren’t there anymore? What do we do when weapons of fear and hate are raised against our brothers and sisters, and it seems as though we can do nothing to help? “Teacher, don’t you care that we are perishing?”
I think that God can use anything, even our hopelessness and our fear. Because it is in that moment when your heart breaks open, when you have no resources left, that you come to know that you are truly held in God’s everlasting arms. That’s the moment when God can break through our defenses because they’re pretty much gone.
So as scary as it is to go over to the other side, to experience the darkness, the wind, the storm, the terror and loss of hope, it can also open the door to faith, and faith, to a whole new life. In fact, in the gospel story and now, it’s Jesus who invites us to go over there. So it’s not necessarily a bad thing. St. Paul says it: NOW is the opportune time, NOW is the day of salvation, not some time in the future when everything’s ok! See, he says, they think we’re faking it, but we are true! They think we’re nobodies, but we are beloved children of God! They think we’re dying, but we’re not dead! They think we have nothing, but we’ve got everything! Every word that St. Paul says of the community at Corinth is just as true for anyone who lives a life of faith: for us, certainly for our brothers and sisters who come to this country as refugees. And then St. Paul says, don’t accept the grace of God in vain. It’s free, but it’s not a freebie.
Jesus invites us to the other side so that we’ll be changed, so that we’ll break through the fear to find that reservoir of courage and serenity that is in each of us. It’s grace that enables us to keep making these voyages across the darkness so that we, too, can have our hearts break wide open. With open hearts we can see that those who are marginalized, those who are different, those whose stories we need to hear are our brothers and sisters. With open hearts we, too, can participate in God’s reign of justice and peace – not at some obscure time in the future, but now: the acceptable time, the day of salvation.
Amen.
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