Sleeping Christ

May I speak in the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

In 2022 it was reported that the captain of an Italian aeroplane had been fired for apparently falling asleep at the controls while flying from New York to Rome. The captain of the flight was unreachable by air traffic control for a significant period while the plane cruised on autopilot. This got so bad as the plane was flying over France, French air traffic control assumed the plane might have been hijacked. And they tried to wake up the Captain, and eventually succeeded. And after his nice, refreshing nap the captain safely landed the ’plane, and all was well, you’ll be pleased to hear.

Now you may see where I’m going with this. The disciples were right to try to wake up Jesus. They were in danger, we are told. They were right to turn to Him for help.

It had been a long day, and Jesus was weary, tired, and needed to rest, away from the crowds and the demands of teaching and healing. He needed solitude, and peace.

Mark records that Jesus lay his head on a cushion, possibly referring to the leather movable seat in the stern for the steersman, on which a weary man might lay his head, while his body was stretched in the bottom of the boat. A hard ‘pillow’ it seems, which only exhaustion could make comfortable! But it was soft enough for the worn-out Christ.

But as they sailed across the Sea of Galilee, evening was coming on, and, as often on a lake set among hills, the wind rose as the sun sank behind the high land on the western shore astern. The fishermen disciples were used to such squalls, and, at first, would probably let their sail down, and pull so as to keep the boat’s head to the wind. But things grew worse, and when the boat began to fill and get water-logged, they began to be alarmed. The squall was fiercer than usual, and seems to have become like a cyclonic wind, sweeping down on the lake from the ravines on the western shore. The disciples were quite clearly terrified.

“Master, Master – we are perishing!” they cried.

Now, they were right to try to wake their captain. They were right to go to Him for help, and they were right to call him their Master. They were right to turn to Him in prayer. But Jesus says to them, “Where is your faith?”—and in Mark’s version, “Why are you afraid? Where is your faith?” They are turning to Jesus really out of fear, rather than trust and confidence. These are hard words of Christ’s though. We can say the disciples were wrong, but even though we know Jesus is the Christ and the Lord of Heaven and Earth, still I’m afraid, I have no certainty that I would act any different to the disciples. The danger and the stress seem more real than Christ.

How often do we catch ourselves thinking that Jesus has gone to sleep when storms come on us, or on the Church—and how often do we think that Jesus is ignorant of, or indifferent to our plight.

St Therese of Lisieux was a great saint, even though she was dead at the age of only 24. And St Therese described in a vivid vision what it can feel like when even God seems to have left us, and left us all alone:

“For some time,” St Therese wrote, “I had been accustomed to offer myself as a plaything to the Child Jesus. I told Him not to treat me like an expensive toy which children look at but dare not touch. I was a cheap little ball which He could fling on the ground… or leave neglected in a corner…

“He answered my prayer. In Rome, Jesus… wanted to see what was inside His little toy and then, having found out, He let His little ball drop and went to sleep.”

This is a very beautiful, and very sad description of what the journey of faith may sometimes feel like.

There are times in life when God seems to leave us overwhelmed; but there are also times in life when we recognise, as St Therese did later, that in reality we have been held close to God’s heart, and God will not let us go.

In the end, nothing else matters but that we are being held close to God’s heart, and God will not let us go. As St Therese says: “Jesus is sleeping so peacefully. The apostles had given Him a pillow. The Gospel gives us this detail. But [in the] dear little boat [of our life] Our Lord finds another pillow much softer, [your own] heart. There… He is at home”. It is not a leather seat which supports His divine head, but something much softer: your own heart.

When, in the tempests that sweep over our own lives, may we remember the times of great calm, and pray with confidence, knowing that Christ through the Holy Spirit is present with us, and God will carry us safely through all dangers. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.

Amen.

The Rev Michael Aylmer,
St Mary Magdalene Enfield, 23/02/2025