THIRD SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST (Written on June 9, 2009)

For the Lectionary (what's a lectionary?) of June 21, 2009: Mark 4:35-41

 

He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

 

BLUE-GREEN BOAT by Larry Patten

A few Sundays ago, during a visit with my parents, I attended a Presbyterian church. We were all Baptists when I was a kid. Over the years, all of us—my parents, my two sisters—chose different directions in our worshipping preferences. I eventually “saw the light” and became United Methodist.

Of course, some might ask, what light, Larry? Was it the light at the end of the long tunnel, where, finally, truth emerged out of uncertainty, where the darkness of a dreary, insignificant life was transformed by the glorious illumination of Methodist insights? John Wesley’s brilliant discipline! Chuck Wesley’s stirring hymns! The Quadrilateral! The itinerant appointment system!

Or, as the old joke goes, was the light merely the train roaring in my direction?

Which is a way of saying I suspect my family’s not unlike others in twenty-first century America. We’re a hodgepodge of faith expressions; conservative and liberal, sometimes church going and sometimes church avoiding. I’m intrigued by recent polls that indicate Pacific Northwesterners frequently select “none” when queried about religious affiliations. Do the perpetually gray skies cause those Washingtonians and Oregonians to refuse to experience faith in a black-and-white, either-or perspective?

I’m equally intrigued by the “new” rise of atheism, though I’m old enough to remember when God died back in the 1960s. Alas, I missed the funeral. Now Christopher Hitchens, author of the best-selling GOD IS NOT GREAT: HOW RELIGION POISONS EVERYTHING, has become the next go-to guru to explain faith’s foolishness. Good for him. However a Pew Research Center survey (April 2009) affirmed that only 5% of American’s self-identify as atheists. Sorry, Mr. Hitchens, your demographic is barely a blip. Odd, though. I scrutinzed the Pew results. Of those claiming no belief in God, 14% of them also claimed to be Christian. Go figure.

Faith, or lack of faith, is ever so odd.

Meanwhile, back in that Presbyterian pew, I squirmed. The pastor, a dynamic preacher possessing a folksy charm, emphatically referred to Jesus as God. Whew. I didn’t agree with him, and so I fidgeted and quietly (not wanting to disturb my fellow worshippers) groaned. In the bumpy, self-centered, humbling journey of my faith I don’t believe in Jesus as God revealed, but as the One who revealed God. Nor do I experience Jesus as my personal savior. I am a bad, bad boy.

And yet, I could be wrong. (Sigh . . . isn’t that always the case?)

The church I attended with my parents is a breakaway congregation. Or perhaps they’d say they finally saw the light. Apparently unsettled by the stances of the mainstream Presbyterian Church (USA), they joined the Evangelical Presbyterian Church. Good for them. I squirmed. The people around me didn’t.

In the week following my attendance at the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, President Obama spoke in Cairo. A timeless city, he called it. He challenged and encouraged openness between faith traditions, between Muslim and Jew and Christian, between warring nations and cultures suspicious of each other. Near the beginning he greeted his audience with, “Salaam aleikum.” Or, peace be upon you. An Islamic greeting. Wonderful.

We’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? We’re all gravity-bound and (if you ask me) all God-blessed on a fragile blue-green schooner sailing about 93 million miles from the sun.

I ponder that boat imagery because of Mark’s account of Jesus “stilling the storm.” (And by the way, I prefer Mark’s version to Luke or Matthew. Only Mark mentioned, while Jesus slumbered and the disciples panicked, the cushion cradling the Nazarene’s head. Most scholars agree Matthew and Luke cribbed from Mark to tell some of their stories. I wished they’d kept that cushion.)

Meanwhile, back to the stormy boat. Back to a world in a disarray, to all of us together, atheists and believers, Muslims and Jews and more, and even back to my squirming in the breakaway pew. As the storm subsided, and Jesus tsk-tsked the disciples’ obvious fear, all the Gospels had the soaked followers wonder, “Who is this Jesus?”

I can only give you my answer. It may be wrong. At the church I attended, I heard another answer. They may be wrong. I listened to President Obama, and heard the affirming roar of a mostly Muslim crowd as he said, “Salaam aleikum.” Was he wrong? Right? Personally compassionate? Politically clever?

I think there’s room for all of us in the blue-green boat. Too many of us squirm, though. Too many of us think we have the right answer.

Odd. I still have so much to learn about and for my faith.

in Peace,

Larry