Between Galilee & Gethsemane

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Job 38:1, 8-11; Psalm 106 (107):23-26, 28-32; 2 Corinthians 5:14-17; Mark 4:35-41

Picture: By Ana Curcan on Unsplash

My dear friends, have you ever witnessed the healing power of a kiss? Say a child falls down, while running across a playground, and scrapes its knee. As tears roll down its face, the child’s parent rushes over, and kisses the injured limb. Amazingly, the pain is soon forgotten. The child gets up, and resumes running. How does this happen? The kiss doesn’t heal the scraped knee. But it does soothe the shaken spirit. And the power to do this flows from the identity of the one who kisses, and from the message the kiss communicates. It makes all the difference that the kiss is given not by a stranger, but by a caring parent, who uses it to tell the child, I love you, I am here with you, there’s no need to be afraid… So that even if the external injury may persist, the internal distress abates. Allowing the child to resume its journey into adulthood. We find something similar in our scriptures today.

Perhaps what stands out most in our readings is the reminder that our God is Lord of the Storm. The psalmist tells us that, with a mighty word, God can both summon and still the stormy waters of the sea. And Jesus wields this same power in the gospel. At his spoken command, the raging Sea of Galilee quickly quietens down, allowing the disciples to resume their crossing over to the other side. This reminder of God’s mastery over storms can give us much consolation when we are caught in the turbulence of life. It inspires us to cry out to God for help, as the disciples do. And, at times, we do get what we ask for. The storm abates. But doesn’t it also happen that, at other times, despite our most fervent prayers, the storm persists? And we may be tempted to think that the Lord is asleep, or he’s ignoring us, or he doesn’t really care about us, or we may have offended him in some way.

Which is why, it’s helpful for us to see that, in the scriptures, it isn’t just storms at sea that are calmed, but also storms of the heart… When God finally speaks to Job in the first reading, after a very long silence, it is mainly to address Job’s inner turmoil. For the common belief at the time was that suffering is the result of one’s own wrongdoing. And since Job is suffering, he must have sinned, even though his conscience is clear. So, on top of his many external trials, Job is labouring under a cloud of unfounded accusation. And, like a parent planting a kiss on an injured knee, God helps Job to calm this inner storm, by posing a question of identity. By asking who? Who pent up the sea behind closed doors…? Inviting Job not just to acknowledge God’s might, but also to recognise that this mighty God is very close to Job, and cares enough for him to speak to him from the heart of the tempest.

Similarly, in the gospel, after stilling the unruliness of the wind and waves, Jesus turns his attention to the turbulence in his disciples’ hearts. Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith? In other words, don’t you know who I am, and how much I care for you? So that, like Job, the disciples too are led to ponder the Lord’s identity. Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him? And just as God speaks to Job from the very heart of the storm, so too does Jesus remain in the same boat as his disciples, while they continue their crossing, from the darkness of disbelief to fullness of faith in the Lord. And Jesus will keep accompanying them on this crossing, even to the point when the tables will eventually be turned. When the Lord will be the one distressed by storms, and his disciples will fall asleep. As we may recall, this is what happens at Gethsemane (Mk 14:32ff). Where, despite the Lord’s most fervent prayers, the external storm refuses to abate. And Jesus courageously consents to the divine call to become the kiss that the heavenly Father wishes to bestow on his fallen children. Communicating to them–communicating to us–the reassuring message, I love you, I am here with you, there’s no need to be afraid… Ironically, one of the first things Jesus will have to do, to answer this call, is to accept a kiss. Not a kiss of affection and reassurance, but of deception and betrayal (Mk 14:45).

My dear friends, what happens to us when we truly allow ourselves to ponder these mysteries, as we are invited to do every time we gather for Mass? Perhaps, like St Paul in the second reading, we too will find ourselves overwhelmed by the love of Christ, who submitted so humbly to unfounded accusations, and laid down his life for us all. Perhaps we too will be urged on to continue making the crucial crossing into spiritual adulthood. To live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and was raised to life for us. Bravely enduring whatever storms may come along our way, and even helping others to weather their storms too.

I love you, I am here with you, there’s no need to be afraid… This is God’s constant message to us in Christ. Sisters and brothers, what must we do to receive this tender and healing kiss ever more readily and ever more courageously today?