STORMY WEATHER — A rough weather memoir

A sermon for the congregation of St. Stephen, Summerland
Sunday, June 23, 2024
The Very Rev Ken Gray

Once the decision was made, that Kathie and I would move to Summerland for me to take up the post of Rector of St. Stephen’s in 1994 we came up a few weeks prior to moving in order to make some arrangements.

It was a very hot mid-summer afternoon, and a breeze was blowing across the lake around about 1 p.m. Arnie Lambert and Terry Green (of blessed memory) wanted to take us for a sail in a boat they co-owned with others. The did not tell us that early afternoon on Okanagan Lake was a notoriously windy time for water sport. Neither did they tell us that they liked to run fast and wild, leaning way off the gunwale sailing as fast as possible. They did not tell us they had brought snacks, including watermelon.

Leaving the tranquil yacht club harbour the lake water was immediately choppy and the wind quite fierce. I had not been on a boat for some time, and the air was hot, moist, and the atmosphere close. I expected thunder and lightning at any moment. I began to feel seasick; more than just queasy, mega-sick actually. Arnie suggested I go below into the cabin where the rocking motion would be gentler. Actually, not! Hot, no breeze.

Terry called down and asked me to cut and pass up some watermelon, which I did, shakily. I tried some of the warm fruit myself; not a good idea! As the afternoon progressed, and my stomach heaved and winced, the bouncing, swerving, swinging—and later barfing— continued unabated.

Huddled next to the bilge pump I turned to scripture as I often do in times of crisis, and in particular to today’s Gospel,  hoping that someone would come along and still the choppy waters, and my stomach:

“A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already swamped. But (Jesus) was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

It’s a good question: Jesus, do you not care? I mean really! How could anyone sleep through such aggressive seas? In a larger sense, how can anyone stay so calm in the midst of turbulence? Nerves of steel? Faith which can move mountains? Don’t our primatial survival senses keep us awake and alert to danger? Where is the resolve to make safe harbour?

As life itself turns to trouble—a relationship strains and breaks; job security evaporates; news from the doctor is not good; there is simply not as much money as a year ago; chronic pain eats at our self-confidence and comfort—in all these storms rage about us and cause us to be afraid. The collect which we just prayed says I best:

O God our defender,
storms rage about us and cause us to be afraid.
Rescue your people from despair,
deliver your sons and daughters from fear,
and preserve us all from unbelief;
through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and ever. Amen.

So much depends on where and how we live. From our position of safety and stability here in the South Okanagan, how can we begin to imagine life in South Sudan, Haiti, Ukraine, the Middle East? Of course, if you are an orchardist or a vintner, you know the stresses brought on by a fast-changing climate. More generally, stress and insecurity are part of life, and if someone tells you otherwise they are indeed trying to sell you something.

I have a long relationship with stress and anxiety. Over many years, more than one spiritual director has advised me to use this story  dynamically. They tell me (and you) to imagine putting yourself into the action. Feel the wind, and name the fear. As the waves toss us about, what does hope look or feel like? When will this end? How will this end? Is there an end in sight? Most importantly, how will we live in the meantime? Mark continues the story:

“[Jesus] woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.”

I love that phrase “dead calm.” (Is there no such thing as a lively calm?—Still thinking about this.) Jesus brings relief from anxiety and fear, though the journey still continues. Jesus next turns a crisis into a teaching moment.

“He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” MARK 4:35-41

Now . . . let there be music, and what music there is. So often music captures if not the detail of struggle but at the very least, the essence, the emotion of struggle. Storms, stress, sickness, struggle, are all ingredients of a musical recipe called The Blues, an expressive song form which provides no solution to pain and suffering, nor celebration, but a physical and emotional means for us to carry on, carrying on.

As I prepared by thoughts for today, one song immediately came to mind: Stormy Weather is a 1933 torch song written by Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler. Ethel Waters first sang it at The Cotton Club in Harlem in 1933 and recorded it that year. It continues to enjoy wide popularity, and it’s obvious why.

Matters of the heart are some of the most powerful forces with which humans must contend. It is often from the gutter of grief that we learn most about ourselves, our needs, and the One we proclaim as Saviour and Lord, as Creator, the one who has the authority and ability to command “Peace, be still.”

Don´t know why
There’s no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain’t together
Keeps raining all of the time

Oh, yeah
Life is bad
Gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy weather, stormy weather
And I just can get my poor self together
Oh, I´m weary all of the time
The time, so weary all of the time

When he went away
The blues came in and met me
Oh, yeah if he stays away
Old rocking chair’s gonna get me
All I do is pray
The Lord will let me
Walk in the sun once more

Let’s listen together, a performance by Etta James, and think about the storms, and the safe landings in our own lives.