"Let us go to the other side..."

Here we see Tigran Ghulyan's  vivid painting of  Jesus Calming the Storm. Indeed, the Sea of Galilee truly experiences roiling storms of this kind. Largely surrounded by mountains which funnel great winds down to the water, violent storms produce waves that could very well take under a little boat and crew. 

But before the storm came upon them, Jesus has said to the disciples, "Let us set out for the other side of the lake." Mark4:35. That's an important line. Did it happen historically? Why would I want to doubt these things? But while I believe in the historicity of the Gospels, I also believe that there is much more to them than just bare facts. It is a problem for the Church, when we fail to come to the more, the underneath, the beyond.

Christ (the new human person) in the little boat is a type or image of each of us and all of us. And as such, he leads us to the other side. How simple: It's his idea! Jesus takes us, leads us, goes with us, to the other side. Can you name it? Perhaps:

To the other side of knowledge

To the other side of consciousness

To the other side of God's real ideas (not our puny concepts)

To the other side of compassion and kindness

To the other side of sobriety

To the other side of my life lived in a new integrity
To the other side of inner freedom
To the other side of real listening and dialogue
To the other side of blind obedience
To the other side of just believing
To the other side of what human means

Some people are not interested in going to the "the other side" with Christ. They'd rather hug the shore, though the shore is a shallow place. "I'm not interested in that justice stuff" the Catholic church-lady said dismissively. But then religion becomes (to use the words of Pope Francis) a comfortable nest, a laboratory, a bubble. 

But how can I set out for the other side? Thich Nhat Hahn, the Buddhist monk referenced here before, suggests that learning to practice mindfulness is key. The past and the future are not realities, only this precise moment is real. And now this moment. And now this one. 

Time slips through our fingers, like the sand in the hourglass. "Where did the time go," we ask. And we are mindless about much (most?) of it, being dutiful, wasteful, distracted, anxious, frantically goal-oriented, selfish, lazy, over extended, sugar-ed or caffeinated up, high, resentful, fake.

I'm thinking of how Americans approach food and table: the young dad who came into the diner with his four year old son. Who plopped the boy down in the booth and at once opened up his laptop, creating a wall between himself and the little boy who sat shredding paper napkins, the father ordering without once referring to the child and who didn't even look up when the food was delivered. Poor boy, poor dad - missing the moment with his son.

In-this-moment-mindfulness. Consciousness. Awareness. Looking. Observing. Listening. Contemplating. Inquiring. We've already set out for the other side. 

Jesus, Save Us!

Here is Ludolf Backhuysen's painting of Jesus Calming the Stormy Sea as told in the Gospels of Matthew (4:35-41), Mark (8:23-27) and Luke (8:22-25). In each of the three, the disciples call out to the sleeping Jesus, but it is only in Matthew's Gospel that they implore Jesus saying: "Save us."

Words like save and salvation have become a kind of specialized vocabulary (Church-talk) that forms a disconnect with people today, especially young people. Ask folks what save and salvation mean and at best we might hear a word or two about Jesus dying on the cross to save us from our sins so we can go to heaven. Without denying that, I'd suggest save  and salvation have to do with today and right now, long before having anything to do with going to heaven. Save and salvation are interior realities and very personal to each of us.

Save means "Get me out of here." In 1975 I was rushing back to the seminary in my bright yellow Volkswagon Beetle to make the midnight curfew, when I made a wrong turn and wound up in a neighborhood that was dark, de-populated, decrepit and utterly terrifying. I drove frantically up and down streets hoping to find my way back to a familiar road, the sense of danger and doom increasing, when I felt this deep inside prayer-urge that cried out: "Get me out of here."  That's asking for salvation in a most basic way.

But then we allow that desperate prayer to reflect inner realities:

Jesus, get me out of this need for 

prestige,

notoriety,

and acceptance.

Jesus, get me out of this
money-love,

my obsession with work,

my inability to be alone,
my disinterest in others.

Jesus get me out of this idolatry of

sports,

shopping,

food,
guns,

talking.

And for younger people: 
get me out of this worship of
media fun,
entertainment and peer acceptance

Jesus, get me out of the chattering

monkey-mind of judgments,

and assessing everyone and everything.

Jesus, get me out of the resentments

I harbor and the

victim-hood I nurture,

my inner whining,

and negative complaining.

Jesus, get me out of this dark cloud mode,

my inner tempest,

all my worrisome regrets,
and the masks I wear.

Jesus, get me out of this inner neighborhood

of fears, 
discontent,

addiction,

fantasy and bad-humor...

and put me on the right road,
the sure path, 
of joy,

peace,
healing,

restored dignity,

light and

balance.

Now look again at the painting. The little boat (of my life) is ready to go under - it is being swamped by violent waves (can you name it for yourself?), the sail is maxed-out and already there is an opening in the ominous sky (look to the left) and a lovely, hopeful light is breaking through. Salvation is already at hand. Everything will be alright!