How Can I Keep from Singing?

Well, the new Harry Potter book is out. I expect that everyone of you here knew that something big was up with Harry Potter this weekend, even if you didn’t know precisely what. Some of you, I know, already have copies and are probably well into, if not finished with, the 896 pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Others of you, I expect, haven’t read any of the books or seen either of the movies. I’ve enjoyed them myself, although I wasn’t among those who hung out at Borders until 12:01 a.m. Saturday morning to get a copy of the book. But it was undoubtedly all of the Harry hoopla this weekend that brought Hagrid to mind when I read this morning’s gospel. Not Harry, but Hagrid.

Hagrid is that gentle giant of a wizard who seems to walk so easily between the world of adults and the world of children. He is rare in that respect. And he is a wonderful friend to Harry and Ron and Hermione. He loves the children deeply. And they love him. Hagrid would do just about anything for the children. And they would do anything for him. Hagrid can be a bit impetuous at times, especially when he is motivated by compassion for the children or for other creatures. And this is the quality in Hagrid that is on my mind this morning. His impetuous compassion. Impetuous compassion is probably a good thing in general, but it often leads Hagrid to say things he shouldn’t or do things that are a bit outside the rules. If you’ve seen the movies, you’ll remember Hagrid saying more than once, "Oops. Shouldn’t have said that." Impetuous compassion.

I see impetuous compassion in Jesus in this morning’s gospel. And I can’t help but wonder if, after Jesus calmed the storm, he didn’t say to himself, "Oops. Shouldn’t have done that." He was asleep. As a great windstorm arose, the disciples grew afraid and wakened Jesus. As Jesus awoke, he undoubtedly sensed their great fear and, in a moment of impetuous compassion for them, he stilled the storm. He loved the disciples deeply and his heart went out to them in their fear. So in that instant he acted to make them feel better, to remove the storm that was making them afraid.

It is undoubtedly a grave sacrilege to suggest that Jesus might have had second thoughts about his action in calming the wind and the sea. Nowhere in Scripture is it recorded that Jesus ever said anything like, "Oops. Shouldn’t have done that." So perhaps I should say that I have second thoughts. There’s a big part of me that really wishes Jesus hadn’t acted with such impetuous compassion and stilled the storm. Oh, I am grateful for Jesus’ love and compassion for the disciples and for me. And I certainly acknowledge that Jesus has the power to calm the fiercest storm. I just sort of wish he had remembered the bigger story and curbed his impetuous compassion.

When Jesus stilled the storm he took away the external source of the disciples’ fear. He made the storm disappear. Almost like magic. Yet to look to Jesus as someone who will erase the storms in our lives is to miss the much deeper, much greater gift that he actually has to offer. Because Jesus’ greatest gift, Jesus’ greatest power, is not that he will make the storms disappear, it is that he can and will bring us peace in the very midst of the storm. That’s an incredible gift, and one that we need so deeply. And this gift is one that we can’t get any other way—not from someone else, not from science’s power, not from our own skill or strength. Jesus brings peace for our hearts even though a hurricane may rage around us. Jesus brings safety for our souls no matter how hard the waves may batter us or how high the water may rise around us. And maybe (I can’t help wondering), maybe if Jesus hadn’t quieted this particular storm, the disciples—and we—might do a little better at appreciating Jesus’ truer, deeper gift… Peace in the midst of the storm. Remember, Jesus was asleep during the storm. Why not? Rest and renewal and peace no matter what the world may throw at us… That is what Jesus offers us.

Do you know the traditional folk hymn, "How can I keep from singing"? Pete Seeger sang it quite a bit.  Listen to the words:

That’s the Gospel. That’s the Good News we need to hear. "No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that rock I’m clinging. Since love is lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?"

Earth’s lamentation. Tumult and strife. Tempest and darkness. These are a part of our lives. The storms of family stress. The darkness of disease and death. The tumult of conflict—conflict between nations, between neighbors, between fellow Christians. The destructive power of nature to kill and mar human accomplishment. The destructive power of human accomplishment to kill and mar nature. The overpowering tempest of economic despair. There is so much that seems beyond our control. And yet the song of hope, the peace of love, God’s hymn of new creation are stronger than anything that assails us.

And just maybe if Jesus hadn’t stilled the storm, the disciples would have learned that with Jesus in the boat they could survive the storm. Impetuous compassion is a good thing, but eternal love is even better. And Jesus brings us God’s eternal love.

And that’s a lesson we desperately need to learn. Because we all know that God does not make all of life’s storms disappear. This particular one that happened one day on the Sea of Galilee… yes. But the disciples certainly faced many other times of tumult and anxiety. As do we. God doesn’t always still the wind and calm the waters. Not even for the most saintly of Christians. I know that from my own experience and I am sure you do, too.

But God does promise that the lord of love will be with us through thick and thin. Jesus is a ringing and clear hymn of hope in our lives that can never be silenced or drowned out by the world’s lamentation. In the stormy times in our lives, Jesus will face into the wind with us as the turbulent clouds approach. Jesus will anchor us as the waves rise. Jesus will take our hand and guide us through the darkness. And Jesus will give us a song of new creation in our hearts at the very moments that it may seem to us that all is lost. God’s abiding and eternal love. That is the good news. That is the Gospel truth.

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