Homily

The Gospel this Sunday opens with the words: “Let us go across to the other side.” Jesus’ command to his disciples questions in a special way those who are tempted to stop, to close in on themselves and their usual horizon. The Gospel narrative makes us guess that the crossing is not at all easy; it begins in the evening as Jesus’ slumber makes us think. Our days are analogous; there is the narrowing of ideal horizons, the absence of new visions, all of which keeps us in the dark, without clear perspectives. It is therefore urgent that fog be dispelled and a new, larger horizon appears. Only by obeying Jesus, can we go further. This is what the disciples did: they obeyed Jesus’ invitation to get into the boat and go to the other side. But then, shortly after, a storm blew in, a frequent occurrence in the lake of Genesareth. Normally fishermen have just enough time to notice the fury of the wind before the waves break on their boat. The scene mentioned by the evangelist is emblematic. The boat, low and with a capacity for about twelve people, is being tossed around in the storm and Jesus is asleep; the apostles are increasingly concerned and their fear grows, while Jesus continues to sleep peacefully. Jesus’ attitude bewilders the disciples. Jesus seems not to care about them, their lives, their families. Fear grows greater and greater until the disciples awake Jesus and rebuke him, “Do you not care that we perish?” It is certainly a cry of despair, but we can read the trust they have in that master. Maybe the request is a little rough, but it contains hope. Even our prayer sometimes is like a cry of despair aimed to awaken the Lord. How many of us are caught by a storm with nothing to cling to but a cry for help, but it seems that the Lord is asleep? That cry can be heard in many human situations, sometimes whole peoples cry until death. Jesus’ slumber might be a sign of how comfortable he is with the disciples during the crossing, but it certainly indicates his total trust in the Father who, he knows, will not abandon anyone. Taking the Lord with us means taking on board his trust and his power.
At our cry Jesus wakes up, stands up straight on the boat, and threatens the wind and the raging sea. Immediately the wind is silent and the sea becomes calm. God overcomes the hostile powers that do not allow the crossing (in this respect it should be noted that in the Old Testament creation is described as a battle of God against the sea, represented as a monster). The episode ends with a unique detail. The disciples are taken by a great fear, and they say to one another, “Who then is this?” Mark’s text speaks of fear rather than wonder. This fear is greater than that which they felt before the storm. It is not the same as distress, but it can be accompanied by complete trust in the Lord. Although this second fear is as strong as the previous one, it cuts deeply into the depths of the soul. It is the holy fear of being in the presence of God. Yes, it is the fear of those who feel small and poor in front of the saviour of life; the fear of those who are weak and sinful, and yet know they are welcomed by Him whom they have offended and who surpasses them in love. It is the fear of losing the only true treasure of love we have received; the fear of not knowing how to take advantage of the closeness of God in our daily lives; the fear of dispersing the “dream” of a new world that Jesus has begun in us and with us. This fear makes us realize that we are already on the other side.