“Peace”

Mark 4:35-41 Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood August 18, 2024

The passage from Mark’s gospel ends with a question, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” 

While I don’t think it’s meant to be a rhetorical question, we aren’t given an answer. Instead, we’re invited to consider what our answer might be. Just who IS this guy? Calming a massive storm at sea? Speaking to the wind and waves with a firm command: ‘Peace! Be still!’?”

Three little words that hold so much power. I felt led to explore each word over the course of three weeks: Peace. Be. Still. So here we are. While we journey through this mini sermon series, I’d encourage you to carry these three words with you - perhaps writing them on your hand, or a post it note on your bathroom mirror. If you’re on the church e-mail list or social media, you’ll see that we sent out a phone lock screen you can use to keep these words front and center. 

The disciples ask, “Who is this that even the wind and seas obey?” And it’s a great question. I have another question: “Who is this, that sleeps soundly through a gigantic storm?!?” We’re told there’s a great windstorm, waves beating into the boat, water coming aboard. And yet Jesus sleeps soundly - unbothered. The disciples have to wake him up. 

Jesus slept peacefully in a small boat that was being tossed about at sea. How did he find that level of deep peace in the midst of a literal storm? And how can I get some of that peace? 

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This is my first time in a pulpit since April. Three months of sabbatical means I wasn’t preaching, but I did enjoy worshiping in many pews these past few months. I was Lutheran, Mennonite, Jewish, Unitarian Universalist, UCC in Oklahoma and Junction City, Catholic all over Manhattan and in Austria. And, of course, I experienced God beyond the walls of religious buildings, too. 

This morning, I want to take you along with me to another seaside. Only metaphorical storms ahead but I do think there will be some Jesus sightings. Let me pull up a photo to show you where we’re headed. (Slide 1)

This is the Adriatic Sea. We’re in Trieste, Italy - which is the teensiest tiniest far northeast corner of Italy. It’s…..uh….not a place anyone from the U.S. really visits when they go to Italy. If Ogden squints his eyes far enough he might be able to see Venice across the water. We went there simply because we’ve always wanted to go to Italy and we were right next door in Croatia, and I figured, “Hey, if we’re only 90 minutes from the corner of Italy, we should go.” 

Here a map to show you what I’m talking about (Slide 2). Trieste is a port city of about 200,000 people - so it’s bigger than Topeka but smaller than Lincoln, Nebraska. Nowadays you’ll mostly see giant cruise ships in the harbor (Slide 3), but in the 19th and 20th centuries you would have seen all kinds of ships here - traveling all over the world. Trieste is a part of Italy NOW but for several centuries it was a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. And before that the Holy Roman Empire and before that it was Venetian and long before THAT is was part of the Roman Empire. (Slide 4) Triestines are no strangers to empire and it’s a great place to go if you’d like to stare out at the water and ponder existential realities like the impermanence of social constructs like nation-states. (Slide 5) 

I mean, not that I know any weirdos that would do that. 

It’s also a great place for pastries if that’s more your thing. (Slide 6)

We were only there 48 hours but I could quickly see why British journalist Jan Morris wrote a book called “Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere.” A once-powerful port city, connecting the mighty Austro-Hungarian empire to the rest of the world, Morris describes it as “a middle-sized, essentially middle-aged Italian seaport, ethnically ambivalent, historically confused, only intermittently prosperous…[Trieste is] so lacking the customary characteristics of Italy that in 1999 some 70 percent of Italians…did not know it was in Italy at all.” (Slide 7)

Like I said, it’s a great place to ponder impermanence. It’s also a great place to think about power and the peace that may or may not come with it. 

Imagine with me that you’re a prince. Specifically, the second in line for the throne of the great Austro-Hungarian Empire. I’m guessing most of us don’t know much about Austria-Hungary, so let me just share a visual to put things in context. (Slide 8) THIS was the Empire just before World War I. So, yeah, not a bad place to be a prince, right?

But also: when your big brother is number one it can be hard to figure out your place in the world. And that’s just what happened to this guy: Maximilian the First, Emperor of Mexico. (Slide 9)

Mexico? That’s a long way from home, Max. How’d that come to pass? 

Maximilian was the Emperor of Mexico for about 3 years before being executed there in 1867. He was lured there as a political pawn in the ongoing battle for control of Mexico. While I don’t know the ins-and-outs of what persuaded him to travel all the way across the world and become the Emperor of a country he had no connection to, I’m going to guess it had something to do with a deep desire for power. Big brother was an Emperor, so that’s hard to top, right? 

What I do know is that this (Slide 10) is where Maximilian lived before he became emperor of Mexico. Miramare Castle, built for Maximilian and his wife Carlotta in the 1850s. It was barely finished when they left for Mexico, never to return. Legend has it that Maximiilian picked this location when he was out at sea and found safe harbor along this rocky shore during a storm. (Slide 11) He was a prince by birth, the leader of the Imperial Navy, and called this place home, (Slide 12) but none of that was enough to give him deep peace. 

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Fast-forward a bit to the early 20th century. Trieste is an incredibly diverse city. Port cities are often at the forefront of social change. People from all over the world mix in these places. And the divisions between different ethnic groups can tend to feel less important when everyone is focused on the same thing: making money. 

Trieste in the early 20th century has a large Jewish population. And it’s a place where Jews feel safer than they might in many other places in Europe. And so, the Jewish community builds a beautiful and enormous synagogue right in the middle of the city. (Slide 13) This new gathering space makes it possible for the entire Jewish community to gather together for worship. And it is a symbol of pride and power. The Jewish community is an important part of this city, integrated into the fabric of Trieste, and they are here to stay. (Slide 14)

But remember - I said this is a city that makes you ponder impermanence, right? This synagogue was completed in 1912 and was a spiritual home for about 6,000 Jews. The early 20th century was a time of integration as the power in Trieste shifted from the Austrians to the Italians. But in 1938, Trieste was the place where Mussolini gave a speech declaring anti-Semitism to the be the law of the land. (Slide 15) And by the 1940s, Trieste was home to the only gas chamber on Italian soil.

Great storms in this city by the sea. Giant waves of fear and facism crashing down on their shores. And very real people - grandparents, children, young adults (Slide 16) - caught up in the midst of al the violence and hate. One very real person was Carlo Nathan Morpurgo, the secretary of the synagogue. (Slide 17) While my family sat in the synagogue together, our tour guide told us about his acts of heroism. (Slide 18)

When the Nazis came to Trieste, they not only deported and murdered Jews, they took over the synagogue. They used it as a secure storage space for all the riches they had stolen from local Jews - paintings, jewlery, family heirlooms. Before the Nazis took over the building, Morpurgo found a hiding place inside the synagogue for their most-valued items, like the Torah scroll. (Slide 19) Mercifully, the items were not discovered and remain with the community today. This local leader stayed in Trieste when he could have escaped, hoping to stay behind and do what he could to protect those who were unable to leave. Tragically, Morpurgo was eventually deported and died at Auschwitz in 1944.

Morpurgo must have been a man of deep peace. He had the ability to tap into some power beyond himself - a lasting sense of peace in the midst of all this chaos - that reminded him of what really matters when the great storms of life assail. And from that deep well of peace, he found the strength and power to show up in love for others in conditions beyond what any human should have to face. 

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I don’t know what the disciples were thinking about when they stared out at the sea that night. (Slide 20) Perhaps it was a peaceful evening at first. But as they noticed the storm clouds on the horizon, maybe one or two of them pondered impermanence. Things can change so quickly, can’t they? One moment you’re just out on a boat with friends and the next you’re scared for your life. One day you can be a prince living in a palace and the next you can find yourself embroiled in a civil war on the other side of the world. One week you’re simply a leader in your congregation and the next you’re a hero whose name will never be forgotten. 

The relentless drumbeat of change can be terrifying. It can sometimes feel like there’s very little we can count on in this world. Sometimes things get better and sometimes they get worse, but our circumstances are always shifting and changing. It can feel so overwhelming. 

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Come with me back to the boat. The storm is raging and panic is rising. Look with me at our sleeping friend back there in the stern. Close your eyes and really look. Can you see him there in your mind’s eye? Do you see the way his chest slowly rises and then falls as he dreams on? In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

Peace. 

It turns out peace isn’t actually about what’s happening out there. It’s not about the circumstances that swirl around us. It’s not about storms that rage and it’s definitely not about empires that rise and fall. 

Peace isn’t a gift the world gives us. And it doesn’t have to be impermanent as so many other things are. 

Peace comes from somewhere else. And can prevail even when the world is crumbling around us. 

Close your eyes again. See him there. Breathe. Watch. Learn. 

 

NOTES: 

Morris, Jan. Trieste And The Meaning Of Nowhere (p. 15). Hachette Books. Kindle Edition.