Mark 4:35-41
On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”
Storms are a phenomena of nature and not just on our planet.
Let’s be grateful we don’t live on Jupiter where the winds can reach 360 kilometres per hour(225 mph)! To put that in perspective, consider that we measure wind on earth according to the Beaufort scale. On this scale 0 is calm and the maximum of 12 is a Hurricane gusting at more than 118km/h(74 mph). Jupiter’s winds are more than double that force.
The strongest wind gust ever in South Africa occurred ironically at “Beaufort” West (Western Cape) on 16 May 1984 and measured 186 km/h.
Storms are part of nature.
We don’t like nor choose them. We whinge about the wind, yet were it not for the wind the rains would not come.
That great Islamic navigator of the spirit Rumi, said, “..smiles come best from those who weep. Lightning, then the rain-laughter.”
Storms of the heart are similar.
In the gospel story of Jesus stilling the storm, there are two interesting phrases. The first describes the storm as being ανεμου μεγαλη- great wind or more literally, great animation.
The disciples are deeply disturbed by this storm that animates their fear.
Jesus then stills the storm and the state after the storm is described by the second phrase , γαληνη μεγαλη – usually translated great calm, but it can also be read as great smile. When I think about the inner storms of spirit, I like the alternative translation. Smiling after the storm has blown over, no matter the damage, is for me a sign of trust.
I can imagine Jesus smiling as he settled down in the boat.
Here is Rumi again, “I do not know who lives here in my chest, or why the smile comes. I am not myself, more the bare green knob of a rose that lost every leaf and petal to the morning wind.”
According to a classic text attributed to Japanese Soto Zen Master Keizan Jokin (1268-1325), The Transmission of the Light (Denkoroku), one day the Buddha silently raised a lotus blossom and blinked his eyes. At this, Mahakasyapa smiled. The Buddha said, “I have the treasury of the eye of truth, the ineffable mind of Nirvana. These I entrust to Kasyapa.”
Zen practitioners have for centuries contemplated what it was that made Mahakasyapa smile when he saw the flower twirl in the Buddha’s hand. They know it was the moment of enlightenment. It is for them the prototypical koan. What was it it?
Perhaps he saw what Rumi saw.
When the storm has stripped us and we have passed our fear of drowning in the chaos. When all prettiness has been stripped away and only the naked rosehip is left, we who understand Spirit will still smile.
The smile of Mahakasyapa, of Jesus, of Rumi.
The smile born from wonder at the mystery of Spirit.
Sorry, got to go.
The wind is coming up.
So one last line from Rumi.
When your love contracts in anger, the atmosphere itself feels threatening. But when you’re expansive, no matter what the weather, you’re in an open, windy field with friends.
The Listening Hermit 
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