“When chaos roars”: a sermon for the NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST (19 OCTOBER 2025)

 

Text: Jonah 1; Ps. 69; Gospel of Mark 4.35-41; 5.1-13

 

     Have you ever felt that your life was completely out of control, out of your control?  Have you ever experienced chaos – in your family, in your workplace…in your church?  When relationships fall apart, when we find ourselves working in a toxic environment, when our church becomes a battlefield – these are all instances of chaos wreaking havoc in our lives.  But chaos is not always a bad thing – there’s a saying that goes like this:

“Some storms don’t come to destroy you; they come to clear your path”.

We could even think of life as a dance between order and chaos.  When things are out of control, and we don’t know which way is up, we need some calm, some peace.  However, when things are too calm, we get stuck, and we are perhaps in need of some chaos to get us moving again in a fruitful direction.

     When chaos clears your path.  The book of Jonah begins with God introducing chaos into Jonah’s life.  Go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it…”  It’s funny – in the Bible, God never tells anyone to “Go to the beach, go on a vacation, go relax, go take it easy.”  Whenever God says “Go!”, it means that God is disrupting the person’s life and is sending them on a risky adventure.  “Go to the land that I will show you”; “Go to Pharaoh and tell him to let my people go…”, etc.  So, Jonah receives a prophetic vocation and he…runs away!  But there’s a problem – he jumps out of the frying pan into the fire.  He runs from his prophetic calling towards…the sea!  He goes to Joppa and gets on board a ship heading west across the Mediterranean.  So here’s the problem – in the Bible, the sea, the ocean is the place of chaos – the sea is always used as a symbol for the dark, mysterious forces of evil and disorder.  Indeed, no sooner has the ship left the port of Joppa, but – the story tells us – the Lord sent a storm that threatened to sink the ship to the bottom of the sea.  What’s Jonah doing as the storm rages? 

He’s fast asleep in the bowels of the ship!  The captain wakes him up and begs him to implore his god to come to their aid.  But Jonah knows that his god – the God of Israel, the Creator, the one true God – is the source of the storm, and that he is the one who has provoked this chaos by pathetically trying to run away from “the God of heaven”.  Jonah tells his shipmates what to do – throw me overboard and the sea will calm down.  The mariners don’t like this plan – they try desperately to get control of the ship, but the harder they try, the more violent the storm gets.  What’s going on here?  Is Jonah being suicidal?  Or does he expect to somehow survive being throw into the sea, far from shore?  Does he perhaps trust that the God who sent the storm, the God who “made the sea and the dry land” will rescue him in some way?  We are not told.  In any case, the mariners finally accept to toss Jonah over the rail and down into the deep he goes…and the storm stops. 

     Those of us who know the rest of the story know that the storm was indeed God’s way of getting Jonah to where God had initially told him to go…to Nineveh, that great city of the Assyrian empire.  Some storms don’t come to destroy you; they come to clear your path, to get you back on track.  Some storms come from God.  But the God who sends the storm is the God who is able to protect you in the midst of the wind and waves, and bring you to where he wants you to be.  There is no safer place to be than in the will of God – though there might be dangers all around.  The calmest place in a hurricane is in the eye of the storm – right in the middle.  That’s where God keeps us – “safe and secure from all alarm”.

     Jesus calms our storms and orders our chaos.  Some storms are positive; however, some storms are indeed the result of the work of evil forces, of the enemy who seeks to “kill, steal and destroy” (cf. Jn. 10.10).  This is what we find in our reading from Mark’s Gospel.  Jesus prepares to enter the first of two chaotic situations.  In Genesis, “in the beginning”, the world itself was in a state of watery chaos before God “spoke” and established an ordered cosmos where there had previously only been “a formless void” (cf. Gn. 1.1-3).  Once God began to speak, the chaos and disorder obeyed his commands to “fall into place”, to harmonize and take shape.

     After another presumably peaceful day of teaching by the shores of the Sea of Galilee (cf. 2.13; 3.7ff; 4.1), and as the evening shadows are gathering (cf. 1.32), Jesus invites the disciples to join him in the boat and announces that they are going to cross the lake (cf. 6.45; 8.13).  “The twelve” begin to strain against the oars while Jesus, exhausted from the day’s preaching, collapses onto the ship’s cushion and falls into a deep sleep (ring a bell?).  Meanwhile, a storm breaks and the sea begins to heave and toss the boat about like a plaything.  In the eye of the storm, Jesus is at rest, seemingly oblivious to the peril that he and his disciples find themselves in.  The exasperated twelve rouse the slumbering teacher and put a question to him:

“…do you not care that we are perishing?” (4.38).

Jesus, he who speaks “the word” to the crowds (cf. 4.33), now addresses himself to the wind and the sea: “Peace! Be still!” (4.39).  Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.  Jesus has brought peace to this chaotic situation of fear and deadly danger.  As water gently sloshes in the bottom of the boat, Jesus turns on the twelve.  Not for the last time, the disciples are about to get a tongue-lashing.  It’s Jesus’ turn to ask a question:

“Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?” (4.40).

The disciples, understandably enough, had been full of fear as they faced the storm; they did in fact demonstrate faith in Jesus’ ability to save them from death – that’s why they woke him up, after all.  But Jesus seems to be calling them to an even deeper dimension of faith – perhaps they could have ordered the wind and the sea to be still?  They had been endowed, we will remember, with authority to “proclaim the message, and to cast out demons” (3.14-15).  Later in the narrative, Jesus will explain to them just how powerful the potential of faith is (cf. 11.20-24).  Let’s not forget that the paralytic was healed because of the faith of his four friends (cf. 2.3-5).  In any case, Jesus seems disappointed at how slow his apprentices are to “test their strength” and to avail themselves of the authority that he has delegated to them.

     There is an important principle being highlighted here, as Mark contrasts the reactions to the storm of the disciples, on the one hand, and of Jesus, on the other.  The disciples are motivated by a desire for self-preservation, while Jesus is motivated by a desire to make a gift of himself.  While the twelve seek to be saved, Jesus seeks to save.  Perhaps it is only when one moves away from seeking to save oneself, one’s reputation, honour, wealth, etc. towards seeking how to give oneself away for the salvation of others that faith’s power can be unleashed (cf. 8.35).  As we read the Gospels, we notice that Jesus never used his power for his own benefit, or to avoid suffering/death.  Jesus is powerful precisely because he does not pursue his own interests, but is rather interested in bringing God’s shalom to those around him.

     Too amazed to pay much attention to the Master’s question concerning their lack of faith, the disciples excitedly ask each other:

“Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (4.41).

Who indeed.  So far, Mark has been unveiling Jesus’ ultimate identity via just such rhetorical questions (cf. 1.27; 2.7).  At a word, demons are exorcised, sins are forgiven (and people are healed) and the wind/the sea become silent.  Who then is this, but the very One who spoke light into the primal darkness, who tamed the waves of the primeval abyss and made the world emerge from chaos into the beauty of ordered fruitfulness (cf. Gn. 1.1—2.3)?

 

     Jesus now prepares to enter the second chaotic situation.  Jesus has tamed the wind/the waves and now reaches the eastern shore of the sea.  As soon as Jesus’ feet hit the beach, the forces of chaos once again confront him.  Darkness has entrenched itself within a crazed, naked creature who comes running down the hill and collapses before Jesus.  As per usual, the demons – who bear the name of a Roman military unit consisting of thousands of men (i.e. “legion”) – acknowledge Jesus’ messianic identity.  By setting foot in the country of the Gerasenes, Jesus has advanced further into “unclean” territory than ever before.  This is the Gentile side of the lake; not only that, but there is a graveyard near to where Jesus has landed.  Furthermore, next to the cemetery, there is a 2,000-head herd of pigs grazing.  Pagans, pigs, demons and the dead.  This is an extreme case of “uncleanness”.  No self-respecting Jew would ever allow himself to be found within ten miles of such a place.  And yet here is Jesus.

     This exorcism is on a whole different level from those that Mark has so far described, and not only because of the number of demons infesting this hapless man.  This individual has been completely cut off from human society, indeed, from his very humanity.  His appearance and behaviour suggest those of a brute beast as opposed to a human person.  He doesn’t wear clothing, he doesn’t sleep, he roams the hills night and day howling and performing acts of self-mutilation.  He is utterly alone – there was a time when perhaps well-intentioned folk attempted to restrain him with chains (to prevent him harming himself?; cf. 3.27), but those attempts had long since been abandoned.  This tortured soul had been given up to the dead – he “lives” among the tombs, a wraith, a creature without memory of garments, civility, family or community.  In many ways, his fate is worse than those whose tombs he frequents; his is a living death, an unceasing anguish that cannot continue but that betrays no hope of respite.  This man is in hell.  And yet here is Jesus.

     Interestingly, this man and/or the demons not only know that Jesus is the Son of God, but t(he)y call(s) Jesus by name (5.7; cf. 1.23-24).  Jesus appears to not have the equivalent knowledge of the man/spirits – “What is your name?”, Jesus asks.  The reply comes: “My name is Legion” (5.9).  Jesus engages the demons in a contest of wills.  After an initial command to come out of the man, “he” begged Jesus not to send “them” out of the country; then “the spirits” beg Jesus to send them into the pigs (5.10-12).  Finally, Jesus grants the demons permission (5.13).  Upon being inhabited by the spirits, the pigs rush headlong into the sea and perish.  The forces of chaos have returned to their natural habitat, the watery abyss (cf. Gn. 1.1-2; Rev. 21.1).

     After having “witnessed” this dual between Jesus and the legion, we are almost surprised to discover that there are other people in the scene – the swineherds (5.14; and let’s not forget the disciples!).  The swineherds become “messengers” and draw out the local populace, who are shocked to find the demoniac “clothed and in his right mind” (5.15).  The people have a peculiar reaction – they are afraid.  As the spirits had begged Jesus to allow them to enter the swine, so the Gerasenes beg Jesus to leave their region (5.17).  As Jesus clambers aboard the ship, the demoniac begs permission to accompany him back to Capernaum.  However, Jesus declines this request and sends him home to tell his friends what “the LORD” had done for him; the once-again-alive man began to spread the news far and wide about what Jesus had done for him (5.19-20).  The source of all life can re-create life even in the face of death and all the legions of hell.

      No matter what chaotic situation you may be facing right now, Jesus can calm it with a word.  Jesus can restore order to your heart, your mind, your family, your church, your life.  Have faith, trust him!  Cry out to him in confidence that the Word through whom the heavens and the earth were created can order reality and bring peace to the most violent storms.  When chaos roars, Jesus commands.  Amen.

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