At the direction of Jesus, the apostles set out on what they thought would be a routine crossing of the sea. But suddenly, a fierce squall placed them in mortal danger. The early Church Fathers saw this event as an image of life. It is easy to relate to the apostles and to see ourselves in that boat. We all experience storms in life. No one is exempt. Life brings storms of various kinds: illness, financial struggles, job insecurity, family turmoil, broken relationships, struggles with addictions and so on.
In their panic, thinking they would perish, the apostles turned to the Lord. But to their astonishment, they found him asleep! In fact, St. Mark adds that he was rather comfortable “sleeping on a cushion.” Waking him, they cried, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” Are you unconcerned about us? Have you ever prayed that way? We are taught that Jesus is always with us, yet how often we fail to sense his presence. He seems aloof, unconcerned, asleep!
Jesus responds and immediately calms the storm, but he does not waste any time in rebuking the apostles: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” The apostles were still trying to understand Jesus, to grasp his true identity. They did not know that Divinity was “…in the stern, asleep on a cushion.” “Who is this?” they asked. How often we fail to understand that Jesus Our Lord is in the boat with us.
We are not crossing the Sea of Galilee, but we are making a crossing from earth to heaven, from this life to the next and that passage has its share of storms. President Kennedy kept a little bronze plaque on his desk that read, “O God, thy sea is so great, and my boat is so small.” When we feel overwhelmed, we must remember that in the boat, however small and fragile, is the Lord. We do not enjoy the physical presence of Jesus as did the apostles, but he offers us three graces that calm the winds and waves.
The first of these are the Sacraments, especially Penance and the Eucharist. So often life’s storms are not always external but internal. Sin can be the source of turmoil. Confession opens a door to grace and peace. Receiving the Eucharist is not taking “something” from the altar but receiving, welcoming “Someone,” the person of Jesus…the same Jesus who was in the boat with the apostles.
The second calming grace we find in others. While it is true that people can be difficult, they can also be instruments of grace. How often they encourage and console us. Didn’t we see this during the darkest days of the pandemic? We saw that we needed one another. Don’t we experience this through our fathers whom our nation honors today? They are certainly instruments of grace, mirrors of God’s love and providence.
The third calming grace is rather curious—Silence. St. Teresa of Calcutta said, “We need to find God and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. It is precisely in the midst of a storm that we must make a space for silence. This is not always easy and may even seem a waste of time, but the reality is that God speaks, comforts, and calms the storm’s fury when we go to him in silence, and open ourselves to him.
Dame Julian of Norwich was a 14th century English mystic who spent much of her time consoling people who found themselves in the midst of one of life’s storms. We might call her one of the first pastoral counselors. Even after six centuries, her words are relevant: “Though we are in such pain, trouble, and distress, that it seems to us that we are unable to think of anything except how we are and what we feel, yet as soon as we may, we are to pass lightly over it, and count it as nothing. And why? Because God wills that we should understand that if we know him and love him and reverently fear him, we shall have rest and be at peace. And we shall rejoice in all that he does…He did not say, ‘You shall not be tempest tossed, you shall not be work weary, you shall not be discomforted.’ But he said, ‘You shall not be overcome.’ God wants us to heed these words so that we shall always be strong in trust, both in sorrow and in joy.