Sharks in the Ocean/Guns in Church Dec 10, 2017 sermon; Mark 1:1-8

Rev. George Miller
Dec 10, 2017
Mark 1:1-8

A few days ago, a news story came out about a nativity scene created in a shark tank located in Rome, in which 3,000 sea creatures are present.

This caught my attention, because as someone raised on Long Island, I grew up with a deep love for the ocean.

I was also born in the 70’s, which means I grew up with movies like “Jaws.” So, I love being in the water while also being afraid of what’s in the water.

So much so, that as a child I was afraid to swim in our backyard pool by myself, imagining that somehow a time/space portal would open up, allowing a shark to enter our 4-foot deep, above the ground pool, and eat me alive.

I’ve spent years loving the ocean, but having nightmares of being attacked.

An ex once shared that statistically speaking, I was more likely to be killed by a wild boar than a shark, but that didn’t put my fears to rest.

Then 4 years ago, something liberating happened. I met a surfer from South Africa, and when I asked him if he ever saw a shark he said “Oh yes, all the time. They’re always there.”

This thought should have scared me, but it did the opposite. Here was someone who surfed every day who stated this reality so matter of fact and calmly, that it got me thinking-

-if sharks are always there, and I have never once been bit, attacked, or even seen one, then they really have no interest in attacking me.

So I began a new relationship with the ocean. Mindful and cautious, but not as paralyzing afraid.

I’ve learned that when you step into the water, be mindful of what is around. Watch for shadows. If fish are racing past you or jumping out of the water, it usually means something bigger is chasing after them.

Use your instincts.

Last year, something inside me said “Get out of the water” and I followed that instinct.

I saw a female surfer also come in. When asked why, she stated that she saw a bull shark acting aggressively.

Since then, the moment I feel my 6th sense say “Get out,” I get out.

But also since then, I’ve witnessed great wonders, like being in the water with a sea turtle, watching a porpoise play in the waves, and twice now seeing a shark on the shoreline.

Yes, Florida is ranked as having the highest rate of shark attacks, but the chance of me being attacked is 1 in 4,000,000.

I love being in the ocean too much to ever stop going in it based on a fear of being attacked by a shark…but I never stop being aware of the great “what if.”

I share all this because America has moved into a heightened sense of fear.

Although crime in Highlands County has gone down, our nation’s murder rates are lower than 30 years ago, and we’re living in the most peaceful time in history, we don’t act that way.

Our awareness of killings and unprovoked attacks has become heightened thanks to instant news, social media, and commerce.

Fear is sexy. Fear is powerful. Fear wins presidential elections. Fear gets you to spend money on security systems, car alarms and firearms.

At our last council meeting we had people express concern that our congregation could become the target of an attack.

Personally, this fear is not new to me. You can’t be an openly gay pastor without being aware you’re at some sort of risk.

Anyone who has read the Bible knows that people of faith have always been the targets of hate, be it slaves fleeing across the Red Sea, to the Jews in Jerusalem, or the disciples as they went from town to town.

But something very tangible, very real has taken place-

In the past, when people heard about synagogues being burned down, we wrote it off as happening to “them.”

When black churches were the target of violence, we could write it off as acts of racism.

When mosques are attacked overseas or vandalized here, well…many people secretly think they got what they deserved.

But when a gunman attacks a primarily white crowd in Las Vegas, and another gunman brutally kills members of a church in rural Texas…then it sets off something real, very primal-

-no one is every truly safe and it can happen here; it can happen to me; it can happen to us.

Something must be done.

I’d like to share with you that things are being done. Last week about 9 church members attended a seminar on active shooters.

Mike Griffith has attended a county wide safety taskforce that will meet again in January.

Mike and I met last Wednesday to share notes and begin the process of creating a Disaster Response Team.

Through all this, we’ll come up with ways to be prepared if human and natural caused disasters take place.

I like this idea of being prepared.

It’s smart; it’s solid.

However, there is one part of the conversation we had at Council that I was very uncomfortable with-

The idea of locking our church doors during worship.

There are some who feel that worship is no longer safe and the only solution is to lock ourselves in and the public out once the prelude begins.

This fear is very real, very tangible, very primal.

But despite recent news, it is also very unlikely. You can go online and discover that the chance of being killed in a church shooting is 1 in 6,552,000.

To give you some perspective, the chance of dying by heart attack is 1 in 5, but no one is talking about doing away with bacon and sausage during brunch.

The odds of dying in a car accident are 1 in 165, but no one says they’re skipping Sunday service because the commute is too risky.

So why is the 1 in 6,552,000 chance of being killed in church enough to make us want to lock our doors and worship in fear?

Because it’s about the sense of helplessness. About the unknown; being a sitting duck; the lack of control.

It’s the way that guns level the playing field. It does not matter how big or strong you are, if you are old or young, male or female, gay or straight - a bullet is a bullet.

Understandably, people are afraid, and it seems like locking the doors is a safe solution.

I don’t know about you, but I did not come out of the closet to be locked behind the doors of a church.

Not to mention, once a church locks its doors to the stranger it stops being church, and in an effort to stay alive, actually begins to die.

There is no biblical passage that even suggests the way to preach or to embody the Good News is to do so within locked doors.

There is no Psalm that says “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall sequester away.”

Matthew 25 does not say “When you locked the doors you ministered to me.”

I have more of a chance of being killed by a shark in the ocean than I do of being a victim of gunfire in the church…

…but then this week the news came out that a woman in Costa Rica died after being attacked by a shark while scuba diving.

1 in 4 million sounds really high, until it is you.

So how we deal with this new reality, this new normal we have of perceived danger within the church setting?

We do so by addressing it, as we have in Council, and as we are in the sermon. We address it by doing our best to be prepared.

We also do it by trying to see what scripture has to say.

Here we have Mark telling us his version of the Gospel.

How does he start his story? By saying “In the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ…”

But this is not fake good news. This is good news rooted in the darkness and despair of history.

Mark was written during a very dangerous and violent time.

Mark wrote during the 70s, a time of war, in which Jerusalem was under the attack of the Romans. Hundreds and thousands of Jews and Gentiles were being slaughtered in the streets.

People were fleeing to the hills for safety. The mighty, mighty Jewish Temple was utterly destroyed.

If you thought things in Palestine are tense now, they were nothing compared to what was happening when Mark wrote his Gospel.

And yet…and yet even with the Temple under attack, so much darkness, so much hate, Mark felt compelled to tell this story, and to start it by saying “The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ…”

This, this is the stock we come from. This is the spiritual ancestor we are descended from.

This is a patriarch of our faith who in the bleakest of historical moments, begins with words of hope.

Good news.

Mark goes on, to tell us about John the Baptist, who is out in the wilderness, saying “Prepare a way for the Lord.”

Wilderness is a code word.

Others words for wilderness are dessert, outback, wasteland, and badlands.

A wilderness was seen as a dangerous place in which one was left utterly vulnerable and in harm’s way.

In the wilderness one is an easy target for thieves, marauders, and criminals.

From a biblical perspective, when someone is in the wilderness they will face issues of fear, and forsakenness.

So when Mark starts his story in the wilderness, he is essentially saying “Yo, things are not good and are scary as heck!”

And yet, even though Mark is writing during a time of war, although he sets his first chapter in the most dangerous of places, he has the audacity to say “The beginning of the Good News…”

Does this sound like a person who is behind locked doors; does this sound like a man who feels the ways of the world are more powerful than the ways of God?

What we have here is a narrator who is saying “Things may seem crooked and scary, but the LORD will make the paths straight.”

What we have here is a narrator who knows all too well the violence that men do, and yet is willing to let us know that Jesus Christ is coming to shower us with the Holy Spirit.

What we have here is a narrator who within a few short verses, sets the stage and says “Yes, we live in a wilderness of fear, forsakenness, and danger, but through Jesus Christ we can also experience faith, deliverance and new beginnings.”

What follows is a story about how Jesus overcomes temptation, welcomes the stranger, and moves throughout the community.

Though Mark wrote during a time more dangerous than we could ever imagine, he shows how Jesus stills a storm, deals with demons, and sits among the thousands.

Yes- there were times in which Jesus was threatened, we know there were times he had to leave town for his own safety, and we know all too well how he was betrayed.

But it did not stop Jesus from being Jesus; it did not stop him from embodying the highest hope.

In conclusion, we know that people are scared; we know they are worried. We know that there are preparations we should be doing.

But how far do we go? How much do we sequester ourselves away?

If we give in to fear, have we also given up on hope?

If we lock our doors, can we truly worship God?

Is faith still faith if we give in to “what ifs?”, or is faith truly faith when it looks fear in the face and says “You have no power here.”

Do we believe the darkness of men overcomes the light of Christ, or that the light of Christ overcomes the darkness of men?

This is for each and every one of us to think about as we continue to find our own way to embody Matthew 25 and to find our own way to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our Lord.

Amen and amen.