Menu
Chapter 12 of 41

12-4. The Stilling of the Tempest

12 min read · Chapter 12 of 41

4. The Stilling of the Tempest Mat 8:23-27; Mark 4:35-41; Luk 8:22-25 The three Evangelists who relate this history agree in placing it immediately before the healing of the possessed in the country of the Gadarenes. It was evening, the evening, probably, of that day on which the Lord had spoken all those parables recorded in Matthew 13 (cf. Mark 4:35), when, dismissing the multitude, He was fain to pass over to the other side of the lake, and so, for a little while, withdraw from the tumult and the press. With this intention, He was received by the disciples “even as He was[1] in the ship.” But before the voyage was accomplished, a sudden and violent squall,[2] such as these small inland seas, surrounded with mountain gorges, are notoriously exposed to, descended on the bosom of the lake: and the ship which bore the Saviour of the world appeared to be in imminent peril, as, humanly speaking, no doubt it was; for these men, exercised to the sea many of them from their youth, and familiar with all the changes of that lake, would not have been terrified by the mere shadow of a danger. But though the danger was so real, and was ever growing more urgent, until “the waves beat into the ship, so that now it was full,” their Master, weary, it may be, with the toils of the day, continued sleeping still: He was, according to details which St. Mark alone has preserved, “in the hinder part of the ship, asleep upon a pillow;” and was not roused by all the tumult and confusion incident on such a moment. We behold in Him here exactly the reverse of Jonah (Jon 1:5-6); the fugitive prophet asleep in the midst of a like danger through a dead conscience, the Saviour out of a pure conscience—Jonah by his presence making the danger, Jesus yielding the pledge and the assurance of deliverance from the danger.[3] But the disciples understood not this. It was long, we may believe, before they dared to arouse Him; yet at length the extremity of the danger overcame their hesitation, and they did so, not without exclamations of haste and terror; as is evidenced by the double “Master, Master,” of St. Luke. In St. Mark, they awaken Him with words almost of rebuke, as if He were unmindful of their safety, “Master, carest Thou not that we perish?” though in this their “we” they included their beloved Lord as well as themselves[4] Then the Lord arose; from St. Matthew it would appear, first blaming their want of faith, and then pacifying the storm; though the other Evangelists make the blame not to have preceded, but to have followed, the allaying of the winds and waves. Probably it did both: He spoke first to them, quieting with a word the tempest in their bosoms; and then, having allayed the tumult of the outward elements, He again turned to them, and more deliberately blamed their lack of faith in Him.[5] Still let it be observed that He does not, according to St. Matthew, call them “without faith,” but “of little faith;” and St. Mark’s, “How is it ye have no faith?” must be modified and explained by the milder rebuke recorded in the other Evangelists. They were not wholly without faith; for, believing in the midst of their unbelief, they turned to Christ in their fear. They had faith, but it was not quick and lively; it was not at hand, as the Lord’s question, “Where is your faith?” (Luk 8:25) sufficiently implies. They had it, as the weapon which a soldier has, but cannot lay hold of at the moment when he needs it the most. Their sin lay not in seeking help of Him; for this indeed became them well; but in the excess of their terror, “Why are ye so fearful?”[6] in their counting it possible that the ship which bore their Lord could ever truly perish.

Then He arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.” Caesar’s confidence that the bark which contained him and his fortunes could not sink, forms the earthly counterpart to the heavenly calmness and confidence of the Lord. We must not miss the force of that word “rebuked” preserved by all three Evangelists; and as little the direct address to the furious elements, “Peace, be still,”[7] which St. Mark only records. To regard this as a mere oratorical personification would be absurd; rather is there here, as Maldonatus truly remarks, a distinct tracing up of all the discords and disharmonies in the outward world to their source in a person, a referring them back to him, as to their ultimate ground; even as. this person can be no other than Satan, the author of all disorders alike in the natural and in the spiritual world. The Lord elsewhere “rebukes” a fever (Luk 4:39), where the same remarks will hold good. Nor is this rebuke unheard or unheeded. For not willingly was the creature thus made “subject to vanity.” Constituted to be man’s handmaid at the first, it is only reluctantly, and submitting to an alien force, that nature rises up against him, and becomes the instrument of his hurt and harm. In the hour of her wildest uproar, she knew the voice of Him who was her rightful Lord, gladly returned to her allegiance to Him, and in this to her place of proper service to that race of which He had become the Head, and whose lost prerogatives He was reclaiming and reasserting once more.[8] And to effect all this, his word alone was sufficient; He needed not, as Moses, to stretch a rod over the deep; He needed not, as his servant had needed, an instrument of power, apart from Himself, with which to do his mighty work (Exo 14:16; Exo 14:21; Exo 14:27); but at his word only “the wind ceased, [9] and there was a great calm.” The Evangelists proceed to describe the moral effect which this great wonder exercised on the minds of those that were in the ship;—it may be, also on those that were in the “other little ships,” which St. Mark has noted as sailing in their company: “The men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?” an exclamation which only can find its answer in another exclamation of the Psalmist, “O Lord God of Hosts, who is like unto Thee? Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, Thou stillest them” (Psa 89:8-9 [10]). We see here, no doubt, the chief ethical purpose to which, in the providence of God who ordered all things for the glory of his Son, this miracle was intended to serve. It was to lead his disciples into thoughts ever higher and more awful of that Lord whom they served, more and more to teach them that in nearness to Him was safety and deliverance from every danger. The danger which exercised, should likewise strengthen, their faith,—who indeed had need of a mighty faith, since God, in St. Chrysostom’s words, had chosen them to be the athletes of the universe.[11] An old expositor has somewhat boldly said, “This power of the Lord’s word, this admiration of them that were with Him in the ship, holy David had predicted in the psalm, saying-, ’They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep’“ (Psa 107:23-30). And as in the spiritual world the inward is ever shadowed forth by the outward, we may regard this outward fact but as the clothing of an inward truth which in the language of this miracle the Lord declares unto men. He would set Himself forth as the true Prince of peace (Isa 9:6-9), as the speaker of peace to the troubled and storm-stirred heart of man, whether the storms that stir it be its own inner passions, or life’s outward calamities and temptations. Thus Augustine, making application of all parts of the miracle: “We are sailing in this life as through a sea, and the wind rises, and storms of temptations are not wanting. Whence is this, save because Jesus is sleeping in thee? If He were not sleeping in thee, thou wouldest have calm within. But what means this, that Jesus is sleeping in thee, save that thy faith, which is from Jesus, is slumbering in thine heart? What shalt thou do to be delivered? Arouse Him, and say, Master, we perish. He will awaken; that is, thy faith will return to thee, and abide with thee always. When Christ is awakened, though the tempest beat into, yet it will not fill, thy ship; thy faith will now command the winds and the waves, and the danger will be over.”[12]

We shall do no wrong to the literal truth of this and other of Christ’s miracles, by recognizing the character at once symbolic and prophetic, which, no doubt, many of them also bear, and this among the number. As the kernel of the old humanity, Noah and his family, was once contained in the Ark which was tossed upon the waves of the deluge, so the kernel of the new humanity, of the new creation, Christ and his Apostles, in this little ship. And the Church of Christ has evermore resembled this tempested bark, in that the waves of the world rage horribly around it, in that it has evermore been delivered put of the perils which seemed ready to overwhelm it,—and this because Christ is in it; who being roused by the cry of his servants, rebukes these winds and these waters, before they utterly overwhelm this ship.[13] In the O. T., Ezekiel gives us a magnificent picture of a worldly kingdom under the image of a stately and gorgeous galley, which he describes with every circumstance that could heighten its glory and its beauty (xxvii. 4-9); but that ship with all its outward bravery and magnificence utterly perishes: “thy rowers have brought thee into great waters; the east wind hath broken thee in the midst of the seas,” and they that hoped in it, and embarked in it their treasures, wail over its wreck with a bitter wailing (ver. 26-36); this kingdom of God meanwhile, seeming by comparison but as the slight and unhonoured fishing-boat which any wave might engulf, rides triumphantly over all, and comes safely into haven at the last.

Footnotes [1] Ὡς ἦν, probably, sine ullo ad iter apparatu.

[2] Σεισμός, which is generally an earth quake (so Matt. xxiv. 7); in Mark and Luke, λαίλαφ, which is defined by Hesychius, ἀνέμου συστροφὴ μεθ’ ὑετοῦ, a squall.

[3] Jerome (Comm. in Matth. in loc.): Hujus signi typum in Jonâ legimus, quando ceteri’s periclitantibus ipse securus est et dormit et suscitatur; et imperio ac sacramento passionis suae liberat suscitantes.

[4] On the different exclamations of fear which, the different Evangelists put into the mouth of the disciples, Augustine says excellently well (De Cons. Evang. ii. 24): Una eademque sententia est excitantium Dominum, volentiumque salvari: nec opus est quaerere quid horum potius Christo dictum sit. Sive enim aliquid horum trium dixerint, sive alia verba quae nullus Evangelistarum commemoravit, tantumdem tamen valentia ad eandem sententiae veritatem, quid ad rem interest? And presently after (28): Per hujusmodi Evangelistarum locutionos varias, sed non contrarias, rem plane utilissimam discimus et pernecessariam; nihil in cujusque verbis nos debere inspicere, nisi voluntatem, cui debent verba servire: nec mentiri quemquam, si aliis verbis dixerit quid ille voluerit, cujus verba non dicit; ne miseri aucupes vocum, apicibus quodammodo literarum putent ligandam esse veritatem, cum utique non in verbis tantum, sed etiam in caeteris omnibus signis animorum, non sit nisi ipse animus inqunendus. Cf. 66, in fine.

[5] Theophylact: Πρῶτον παύσας τὸν χειμῶνα τῆς ψυχῆς αὐτῶν, τότε λύει καὶ τὸν τῆς θαλάσσης.

[6] Ο ὕ τ ω δειλοί, on which words Calvin: Qua, particulâ notat eos extra modum pavescere;.... quemlibet vero timorem non esse fidei contrarium, inde patet, quod si nihil metuimus, obrepit supina carnis securitas.

[7] Σιώπα, πεφίμωσο. We may compare Psa 106:9 : “He rebuked ἐπετίμησε, LXX) the Red Sea also; “although there, as in a poem, the same stress cannot be laid on the word as here.

[8] A notable specimen of the dexterity with which a neological interpretation may be insinuated into a book of geography occurs in Röhr’s Palästina, p. 59, in many respects a useful manual of the Holy Land. Speaking of this lake, and the usual gentleness and calmness of its waters, he adds, that it is from time to time disturbed by squalls from the neighbouring hills, which yet “last not long, nor are very perilous (Mat 8:23-27). “What his reference to this passage means is at once clear, and may be seen more largely expressed in Kuinoel, or any other rationalist commentary, in loco.

[9] Ἐκόπασεν, as one ceases out of weariness (κοπάζω, from κόπος). Γαλήνη, probably not, as some propose, from γάλα, to express the soft milky colour of the calm sea, but from γελάω. So Catullus, describing the gently-stirred waters,—leni resonant plangore cachinni.

[10] Tertullian (Adv. Marc. iv. 20): Quum transfretat, Psalmus expungitur, Dominus, inquit, super aquas multas [Psa 39:3]: quum undas freti discutit, Abacuc adimpletur, Dispargens, inquit, aquas itinere [Hab 3:15]: quum ad minas ejus eliditur mare, Naum quoqne absolvitur; Comminans, inquit, mari, et arefaciens illud [Nan. i. 4j, utique cum ventis quibus inquietabatur.

[11] Bengel: Jesus habebat scholam ambulantem, et in eâ scholâ, multo solidius instituti sunt discipuli, quam si sub tecto unius collegii sine ullâ solicitudine atque tentatione vixissent.—A circumstance which has perplexed some, that, apparently, the Apostles were never baptized, except some of them with John’s baptism, has been by others curiously explained, that, as the children of Israel were baptized into Moses in the Red Sea (1Co 10:2), so they were in this storm baptized into Christ. Tertullian (de Bapt. 12): Alii plane satis coacte injiciunt, tune Apostolos baptismi vicem implésse, quum in naviculâ, fluctibus adspersi operti sunt.

[12] And again, Enarr. in Ps. 43:19: Si cessaret Deus, et non misceret amaritudines felicitatibus seculi, oblivisceremur eum. Sed ubi angores molestiarum faciunt fluctus animae, fides ilia quae ibi dormiebat, excitetur. Tranquillum enim erat, quando dormivit Christus in mari: illo dormiente, tempestas orta est, et coeperunt periclitari. Ergo in corde Christiano et tranquillitas erit et pax, sed quamdiu vigilat fides nostra: si autem dormit fides nostra, periclitamur. Sed quomodo ilia navis cum fluctuaret, excitatus est Christus a fluctuantibus, et dicentibus, Domine, perimus: surrexit ille, imperavit tempestatibus, imperavit fluctibus, cessavit periculum, facta est tranquillitas; sic et te cum turbant concupiscentiae malae, persuasiones malae, fluctus sunt, tranquillabuntur. Jam desperas, et putas te non pertinere ad Dominum; Evigilet fides tua, excita Christum in corde tuo; surgente fide, jam agnoscis ubi sis;.... Evigilante Christo tranquilletur cor tuum, ut ad portum quoque pervenias.Thus again (In Ev. Joh. tract, xlix.): Fides tua de Christo, Christus est in corde tuo. Intrant venti cor tuum, utique ubi navigas, ubi hanc vitam tanquam procellosum et periculosum pelagus transis; intrant venti, movent luctus, turbant navim. Qui sunt venti? Audisti convicium, irasceris: convicium ventus est, iracundia fluctus est: periclitaris, disponis respondere, disponis maledictum maledicto reddere, jam navis propinquat naufragio; excita Christum dormientem. Ideo enim fluctuas, et mala pro malis reddere praeparas, quia Christus dormit in navi. In corde enim tuo somnus Christi, oblivio fidei. Nam si excites Christum, id est, recolas fidem, quid tibi dicit tanquam vigilans Christus in corde tuo? Ego audivi, Daemonium habes, et pro eis oravi; audit Dominus et patitur; audit servus et indignatur. Sed vindicari vis. Quid enim, ego jam sum vindicatus? Cum tibi haec loquitur fides tua, quasi imperatur ventis et fluctibus, et fit tranquillitas magna. Cf. Serm. lxiii.; Enarr. in Psa 55:8; and Enarr. ii. in Ps. xxv. in init.

[13] Tertullian (De Bapt. 12): Caeterum navicula ilia figuram Ecclesise praeferebat, quod in mari, id est seculo, fluctibus, id est persecutionibus et tentationibus, inquietatur, Domino per patientiam velut dormiente, donec orationibus sanctorum in ultimis suscitatus, com pescat seculum et tranquillitatem suis reddat. Ambrose: Arbor quaedam in navi est crux in Ecclesiâ, qua inter tot totius saeculi blanda et perniciosa naufragia incolumis sola servatur. Compare a passage of much beauty in the Clementine Homilies (Coteler. Patt. Apostt. vol. i. p. 609), beginning thus: Ἔοικεν γὰρ ὅλον τό πρᾶγμα τῆς ἐκκλησίας νηῒ μεγάλῃ, διὰ σφοδροῦ χειμῶνος ἄνδρας φερούσῃ ἐκ πολλῶν τόπων ὄντας, καὶ μίαν τινὰ ἀγαθῆς βασιλείας πόλιν οἰκεῖν θέλοντας, κ. τ. λ. The image of the world as a great ship, whereof God was at once the maker and the pilot, was familiar to the Indians (Philostratus, De Vita Apollonii, iii. 35; Von Bohlen, Das Alte Indien); and the same symbolic meaning lay in the procession of Egyptian priests bearing the sacred ship (the navigium auratum, Curtius, iv. 7), full of the images of the gods (Creuzer, Symbolik, vol. ii. p. 9, 3d edit.). All this was recognized in the early Christian art, where the Church is continually set forth as a ship, against which the personified winds are fighting (Christi. Kunst-Symholik, p. 159). Aringhi describes an old seal-ring in which the Church appears as this ship, sustained and supported by a great fish in the sea beneath (Christ the ΙΧΘΥΣ. according to Psa 72:17, Aquila), while on its mast and poop two doves are sitting; so that the three Clementine symbols,, the ship, the dove, and the fish, appear here united in a single group.

Everything we make is available for free because of a generous community of supporters.

Donate