Healing Fish on Water: Part 2 (Peace)
In Part 1 we had a quick overview of the beginnings of Mark’s portrayal of Jesus. We see that Mark’s preoccupation can be captured in a single verse, Mark 10:45 (NKJV): “For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”
Firstly, Mark takes great pains to establish Jesus of Nazareth as the Son of Man (an interesting title used throughout the Old Testament). Mark 2 and 3:1–5 showcase five stories which seem to define Christ’s role, concluding them with the juxtaposed murderous character of the Pharisees and Herodians (Mark 3:6).
The next few verses speak to Jesus’ following and continue with some parabolic teachings which Mark says is a characteristic trademark of Jesus’ teaching style (Mark 4:34). It is here we begin our story.
Mark shares that on the same day, they departed on a boat to cross to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. A great crowd was drawn to Jesus because of his teaching and healing and so his disciples withdrew with him to a quieter place. A few boats accompanied them some of the way, but once the storm begins it seems they are all alone.
Now Jesus was asleep on the boat despite it filling with water. With some experienced fishermen among them, the disciples tried to manage the swaying boat but resigned in fear. They cowered to Jesus’s resting place, woke him, and asked an accusatory rhetorical question: don’t you care that we perish? While we learn later that Jesus labels this faithlessness, I’d like to explore its constituent parts.
Carest thou not that we perish?
This forms a line in one of my favorite songs which is usually butchered in worship services. Anyway, there are a few parts to this accusation. “Don’t you care” is probably the most important part concerning our larger narrative until the miracle of Jesus walking on water.
So we begin with “that we perish”. This phrase is spoken with confidence and fear: fear of mortality and confidence in the certainty of a deadly fate. This is often the case for many people, the most serious cases of which are suicidal. Someone resigns themselves to the idea that their death is or should be inevitable. I phrase it like this because for those who love life most abundantly the same sentiment guides their thinking.
Here we see a confrontation with mortality which begs the question: does our God care? It is a serious thought that seldom occupies the thoughts of most. It is uncomfortable. To have to think of the worst is so unsettling that some choose to ignore the question until it is too late. But there are two sure things in life: death and taxes.
At this point, the biggest concern is the attitude of the Master to our suffering and pain, and in this case, Jesus seems to be found in the same situation as his disciples. He isn’t exempt from experiencing the same circumstances or even the same fate. More than presenting a God over nature, I see Jesus presented as a human subject to it.
“For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.” — Hebrews 4:15 (NKJV)
Had they drowned, he might’ve drowned too. Death was certainly not beyond Christ’s experience on earth, because in Mark’s words, that’s the reason he incarnated on earth. So Jesus’ death isn’t necessarily remarkable in this scene, neither are the concerns of the disciples. We all are exposed to what they experienced on, sometimes, a daily basis. Mortality and the fear of it are healthy motivators for many of our decisions. Not always, but usually. We avoid unnecessary pain, injury, carelessness and the like because of our aversion for death. It makes us cry. It separates us from loved ones. It robs us of a future under the sun. It truly is an enemy.
And yet, Jesus sleeps calmly. As if to illustrate the attitude we should bear. Friedrich Nietzsche says that there was only ever one Christian. Only Christ lived up to the standards he taught. And to wish to be called by his name is to strive toward the same mind that he has.
The miracle here, for me, is not so much that Jesus calms the storm, but that he is so calm through it. Such peace “surpasses all understanding”. Experienced sailors, soldiers, medical practitioners will tell you that a fear of death (either for yourself or on behalf of others) can help you save a life. The adrenaline pumping through your veins is a physiological response meant to preserve life.
But there is merit to being able to calmly navigate the vicissitudes of life. Jesus seems to characterize the lack of peace as a lack of faith. Perhaps it isn’t as disparaging as we might think. Perhaps the point Jesus is making is that you can act with clarity in moments of crisis. It is a position that abandons the body’s natural response in favour of a chosen one. To live purposefully and die peacefully is not a luxury that many afford.
On the other hand, it may suggest that in times of crisis we should sleep, lie oblivious to all that goes on around us. I would reject this interpretation on these grounds: remember that Christ and his disciples withdrew from the crowd and then experienced the storm. This isn’t a collective storm. It is a personal one experienced in the absence of others. These are the personal storms we experience in life, especially when we are alone.
It is my belief that Jesus teaches us here that, though he may have the power to remove you from every storm life throws at you, it is better to cultivate a character that can withstand them. Because, as we will see much later, the disciples find themselves on another storm, but this time Christ is not with them in the boat.
In some sense, this journey is the same as parenting. Teaching children to navigate difficulty in preparation for a life of adulthood is the purpose of child rearing. We don’t raise children, we raise future adults, who ought to be capable to negotiate life’s challenges without parents always holding their hand. So we expose our children to increasing levels of difficulty so that they learn to conquer debilitating fear and overcome.
Life’s storms won’t stop. And sometimes they seem to blend into one other. Christ’s lesson is that the peace comes from within before it manifests without. It is from the man who is calm through the storm that the storm takes instruction. Life is suffering. But we can, as Jesus’ disciples, learn to sufficiently focus our thoughts, feelings, and skills so that we become masters of our situations rather than being mastered by them.
I believe the purpose of this story is that Jesus is training his followers, then and now, to appreciate the suffering that life presents, to take seriously its potential to end us, and to stare right back at it with resolve and work out, from within, how to conquer. And it gives us no assurance that other followers of Jesus will be equally calm. Remember, only Peter walked on water.
It is a miracle that any sane human being can see death approach and know that the more fulfilling course is to live life authentically staring it in the face. That we cultivate a character despite what life throws at us, may prepare us for what is coming against us in the future, and fortify our souls against fear and chaos. Life, with all its danger, demands courage, composure, and a healthy dose of realism. We follow Jesus not to avoid death, but to confront it.
It has always been my position that being a Christian either to access heaven or to avoid hell is futile. It is not the life of ease or survival one should seek, but one of substance even through adversity. An escapist religious ethos may mean you abandon any cause which threatens to end your life.
What of the countless souls who sacrificed their blood, sweat, and tears to secure freedom for future generations? What of the parents who struggle to put food on the table? What of firefighters who pull up to a burning occupied building? What of activists who speak truth to power? Citizens who see the vulnerable starve and sleep in the cold? Victims of rape who know that others are going through that experience right now? What of the numerous challenges we face every day which, by our imagination, should obliterate us right where we stand? The numerous social and political ills against which students stand up?
They have faith. They take a deep breath, calm their thoughts, and attend to the task at hand. This doesn’t make them superheroes; it just makes them human. To change the world, one must first change yourself. Power, Jesus teaches, begins within.
