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Readings (click here for full text of the readings): Along with the many wonderful things about being a pediatrician, there are also a few drawbacks. One is that about a quarter of patient visits will be for ear infections. Late in the day, when you’re wrestling with yet another toddler trying to look in his ears, it’s easy to question your choice of specialty. But when life seems so routine and straight-forward, I always remember the words of one of my med school professors who demanded that we formulate a list of at least 4 things that each patient might be suffering from. Even for the child who has all the symptoms of an ear infection, we were required to think of three other illnesses that the child might have. The idea was that if you didn’t consider the possibility that the child some other disease, you wouldn’t be able to diagnose it. As my professor was fond of saying, “If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you’ll never see it.” This is a lesson that Elisha had down pat but the disciples never seemed to learn.
The Gospel reading seems, at first glance, like a familiar story. After performing a miracle (in this case, the feeding of the multitudes), Jesus sends the disciples away so he can be alone to pray. A little while later, when the miracle should still be fresh in their minds, the disciples are confronted with the power of Jesus and recoil in terror and confusion. Jesus reassures them, and we’re reminded that they never seemed to understand what was going on with Him, anyway. Despite this familiar ring, there’s a phrase in the story that’s fascinating and poignant. To revisit the scene, the disciples are together in a boat on the Sea of Galilee. There’s no indication that the seas are heavy or that a storm’s brewing, as there had been 2 chapters earlier when the disciples awakened Jesus to calm the rough seas. This time the disciples are simply rowing hard against an unfavorable wind. We have no reason to believe they are fearful or concerned; more likely, they’re tired after having rowed through the night and a bit annoyed that it’s taking so much work to get across. We’re told that Jesus decides to go out to them, and that he intends “to pass them by.” What an interesting phrase! Neither of the parallel passages in Matthew or John includes these words, moving right from Jesus’s walking on the water to the disciples’ fearful reaction. It’s hard to imagine why Jesus would intend to pass them by. You’d think that if He were concerned for their safety, He’d calm the seas as He had before, or He’d speak words of comfort without delay. Or if He were planning on joining them, He’d just get into the boat Himself, rather than walking by them. But Jesus doesn’t plan on joining them or even speaking to them. After spending the night alone in prayer, He sees that they’re struggling, and He simply walks out to where they are. There are a couple of reasons why He might do that. First, perhaps He wants to be with them. He’s spent some time alone and now wishes for company and camaraderie. His friends are rowing hard, and rather than watch them from the shore, He wants to be near them, for His sake as well as their own. We know from the first chapter of Mark that challenge and temptation came to Jesus while He was alone, so perhaps He’s looking for comfort and companionship after a difficult period. The second reason is that Jesus may wish to help the disciples. Even though they aren’t in danger, they are struggling, and Jesus knows that He can provide encouragement, at the very least. After being with the disciples for some time, it’s reasonable for Him to expect that His presence with them would be a comfort to them. However, the disciples react in terror when He appears. They weren’t scared before He arrived; they weren’t frightened of the storm or seas. Only when they see Jesus do they become terrified. Sensing this, Jesus immediately speaks some reassuring words and calms the seas, leaving the disciples “utterly astounded.”
The disciples just don’t know what to look for. They’re continually amazed and surprised and perplexed by Jesus’s words and actions. They expect something very different than who He is and what He does. And even when Jesus walks up to them and is so close to them that Mark makes a point of saying that they all saw him, even then they don’t believe. Quite the opposite, they scream in terror because they don’t know that they’re in the presence of God. And so Jesus plainly identifies Himself so there can be no misunderstanding. He calms the storm, and then gets into the boat. Only with smooth seas and a person standing in the boat (and not on the water) and speaking in a familiar voice — only then do we hear that the disciples are astounded, and presumably calmed. But they still don’t understand the miracle they’d seen, and their hearts are hardened, preventing them from seeing Jesus amidst the storms of life in all His power. Because they don’t know what they were looking for, they don’t see the truth.
Elijah and Elisha are another story. We’re told at the outset that the Lord is about to take Elijah up to heaven “by a whirlwind.” This is very reminiscent of the time early in Elijah’s ministry when, after pleading with God to take his life because he was unworthy to be a prophet, he was told to stand on Mount Horeb for the Lord was “about to pass by.” Elijah stood on the mountain, waiting to hear the word of the Lord, and a great wind came, then an earthquake, then a fire, but the Lord was not in any of them. Eventually Elijah heard “the sound of a light whisper,” which was the word of the Lord. In this morning’s text, we read that the whirlwind of God is about to reappear in Elijah’s life. Ordinarily, we don’t think of God in that way, for a whirlwind is a violent and unpredictable thing. A literal whirlwind causes destruction, and in a figurative sense, a whirlwind seems chaotic and anything but divine. When we hear of a “whirlwind romance,” for instance, we usually think of something that’s impetuous and fraught with danger. Once before Elijah had listened for the voice of God in a whirlwind, in an earthquake, and in a fire, and he eventually heard it in the silence. In today’s reading, as his life is coming to an end, he perhaps doesn’t know how the voice of God will come to Him. All he knows is that the Lord had sent him to several places, and that along the route he will be taken away. Elisha doesn’t have any way of knowing exactly what will happen, either. All the other prophets know that Elijah is going to be taken away that very day, and they make it their business to remind Elisha of that at every stop. More than informing him, they seem to discourage him from continuing on with Elijah, as if to say, “We all know that God’s going to take Elijah today. Why are you bothering to stay with him?” Or perhaps they’re trying to be pious, suggesting that Elisha had no business being there when God takes Elijah, for who knows what would happen to Elisha if he saw God. Elisha never wavers. When the other prophets go no further, he stays by the side of his spiritual father and friend. In the end, he sees the chariot and the horses, and the whirlwind of God that takes Elijah to heaven. In that momentous experience, Elisha never shows any fear. He cries out for Elijah, he identifies what he is seeing, and he continues to look until he can no longer see them, at which point he begins to grieve the loss of his friend. In contrast to the disciples, Elisha recognizes the power of God and looks it square in the eye, rather than cowering in bewildered fear. It’s impossible to say if he or Elijah had any idea what was in store for them, but regardless of how God appeared to them, they are ready and receptive. They know that God might come to them in many different forms, and they walk on together, open to receive the presence and blessing of God. On a more personal note, Elisha never abandons his friend, even when he’s advised to by the other prophets. He has every reason to be afraid, for somewhere along the road lay the departure of his dear friend as well as the fearsome power of the Lord. Elijah himself even instructs Elisha to stay behind, but Elisha refuses. He is Elijah’s companion to the end. It’s hard to walk with someone through times of pain, especially to the point of death. Doing so reminds us of our own mortality, and of our own helplessness to save the person we love from suffering. Walking with a friend through the difficult periods of life can lead to intense and direct grief. Elisha could certainly have heeded the advice of the other prophets, he could have obeyed Elijah’s own command — he could have stayed behind and allowed Elijah to walk on alone. That would have been safer and more comfortable, but it would also have been less faithful. We’re commanded to suffer with those who suffer, literally to have “compassion.” Just as Jesus himself accompanied the disciples in their time of struggle, so we are called to stand beside the people in our lives who strain against the storms of life and death. Such love can be frightening, as it was to the disciples. It forces us to share our hopes and fears with another person as well as with ourselves, and it can be just as miraculous and terrifying in its power as walking on the water. We may prefer to carry our burdens alone and to struggle valiantly against the opposing wind, for that is the proud and individualistic thing to do. But when we’re joined by a companion willing to journey with us through the storm, we’re confronted with the love of God. We mustn’t fool ourselves when it comes to God’s love. Too often we think of God smoothing out the rough path that lies ahead, calming the storms of life. Those very storms often lead us to call out to God for help, when we feel overwhelmed. Today’s readings remind us that God’s first step is not to make the winds cease, but rather to walk with us through the storm. For the storm is not necessarily an evil or harmful event; in fact, the storm itself may be God. The God who comes in a tempest of activity, who has a whirlwind romance with each of us, so much so that He came to earth to live and die as one of us. Who shakes our foundations like an earthquake, reducing our artificial lives to rubble so that we can see what really matters. Who purifies our hearts with fire and searing companionship. Who speaks to us in “a light whisper,” which we have to strain to hear. The God of the whirlwind, earthquake, and inferno can be terrifying, as He was to the disciples. The God of the whisper can be drowned out in the busy-ness of life. And so, in the midst of the storms of our lives, we might beseech God for aid, thinking that He is far from us, not realizing that God himself is in the whirlwind. Or we might be so intent on finding a mighty work of God that we ignore the still small voice whispering in our ear. God comes to us in a multitude of ways, some uncomfortable, many unexpected. Only when we are open to God, however God presents Himself to us, as Elisha was, will we feel God’s presence in our lives. Because only if we know what we’re looking for, will we ever see it. Amen.
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