All In the Same Boat

Almost everybody on our recent trip to Israel will tell you that the Sea of Galilee was one of their highlights. This is pretty predictable, of course. As Christians, many of our most treasured stories took place on or around this inland sea.

The sea itself is really a modestly sized lake, measuring about six by thirteen miles. One can stand on the shore and see across in both directions. Most of the time, the water is amazingly calm. So, also, are the holy sites that dot its shores. The churches here are of modest scale, usually surrounded by serene countryside and pastoral beauty.

All of this peace and quiet can be deceptive. At the Northwest corner of the lake stands Mt. Arbel. The mountain is not named in the gospel narrative, but it is actually a major player in one of our most beloved stories of Jesus, told here in the words of Mark, Chapter 4:


That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?"

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

Mount Arbel figures into this story in two important ways.

First, this mountain stands as a gatepost to the valley which cuts from the Sea of Galilee to the Western Seaboard of Israel. As such, it defines the line for the major trading routes cutting from the North and East (Syria, Persia, and the Orient) to the South and West (Jerusalem, Egypt, and Rome.) The northern shore of the Sea of Galilee in Jesus' day was a hopping place. Excavations at Capernaum have begun to uncover the truth that Capernaum was no sleepy little fishing village, but a way-station on a major commercial thoroughfare. This accounts for the "crowds" mentioned in the story.

"Crowd" may have been a bit of an understatement here. There are indications, in fact, that "mob" might have been a better word. In Chapter 2 of Mark, the crowd has ripped the roof off of a house to get at Jesus. In Chapter 3, Mark comments that Jesus and his disciples "could not even eat" as they tried to take cover indoors. Chapter 3 also tells us that Jesus begins to preach from a boat to avoid being "crowded" (translate "mobbed".)

This, of course, is what Jesus came for. Nevertheless, the insistence of the mob appears to take its toll. I don't think I'm just projecting my own introversion onto Jesus when I suggest that he needed to get away. He asked his disciples to set sail under cover of darkness, perhaps with the intent of slipping away fro the crowds on shore and the "other boats" which have now begun to school around his preaching.

The text says the disciples took Jesus "as he was" in the boat and made for the "other side."

Perhaps we shouldn't read too much into that phrase "just as he was," but in modern usage it has certain connotations. We we invite people to an event and suggest that they "come as you are," we usually don't expect that we've caught them in tuxedo and evening gown. When we sing "Just As I Am" at the end of a worship service, it is usually not with a sense of pride, but with a sense of humility. For Jesus, in this moment, "just as he was" meant dog tired and jowls-a-draggin'.

No surprise that he immediately falls asleep as his disciples row.

Here, Mount Arabel re-enters the story. The same valley that carries the Roman Highway into the region also carries the weather. The valley can funnel violent storms into the northern end of the Sea of Galilee in an instant. The ordinarily glassy surface can develop a chop easily capable of capsizing the small fishing boats that traveled the lake in Jesus' day. Just such a storm arrives into our story, almost on cue.

The language that both Mark and Jesus use to talk about this storm is not just meteorological. It's a "monster" storm repleat with teeth and claws.

As we sailed this lake together, our devotional speaker reminded us that when life's storms hit, Jesus is in the boat with us. The author of Hebrews reminds us that Jesus, our High Priest, has suffered all of the indignities of being human, knows and understands what we are going through. We are never alone.

The story also reminds us that Jesus is sovereign over the storms in our life. One of the mysteries in the story revolves around why it took the disciples so long to call upon Jesus for help. We watch as they strain at the oars under their own power until they finally cry out in what seems like anger. "Don't you care that we're drowinging, here?"

All along, they are aware that Jesus is with them. They've even awarded him a place of honor in their lives. Consider this: who sits in the stern of a boat? If there had been a bumperstcker on this boat, it wouldn't have said "Jesus Is My Copilot." It would have said "Jesus Is the Pilot of This Craft."

In spite of this, though, they refrain from calling out until it is almost too late.

How often do we fail to call on God at the beginning, middle, and end of life's undertakings? We fail to call on him for help, then we have the audacity to be angry, even cast blame on him when the waves threaten to overwhelm us.

I am most puzzled, though, by Jesus' response. He calms the sea, of course. That's the famous part of the story. But then he rebukes them as being of little faith. Why?

Put it another way: What would have been Jesus' "preferred outcome" in this story? Would he have wished the storm never came? Would he have wished his disciples had awakened him sooner, so that they had never been in danger?

Last Summer, my family visited an amusement park in the Smokies called Dollywood. Dollywood has this new roller coaster called the Mystery Mine that they advertise on all their posters. I was in the park near the entrance to the Mystery Mine when I heard this converstaion between two teenagers:

"I can't believe we waited two hours to ride that thing."

"Yeah. Especially in this heat."

"When it turned up on its side I almost wet my britches."

"When it went straight down through the flames I almost threw up."

"I thought I was going to die."

"Me too."

"Wanna go again?"

"I'll race you!"

And I followed them.

These kids had a faith in the Dollywood ride designers that the disciples could not find that night in the boat with Jesus. These kids probably didn't write a letter to Dollywood complaining that the ride was too scary and demanding that the roller coaster be closed down, or even toned down. despite the lurches in their stomachs and the screams, they had an undergirding faith that the car was still on the tracks, that the designer knew what he was doing and had done it all with them in mind.

I wonder.

How would Jesus have felt if he had been awakend by a different cry? What if instead of "Don't you care if we drown?" he'd awakened to a different shout?

"Master! Wake up and grab an oar!"

His eyes open, and Jesus sees twelve rain-drenched, wind-whipped disciples grinning to beat the band.

"You're missing the ride!" they shout.

And with a whoop, they bend their backs again to the oars


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