Faith as the Counter to Fear

“A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he [Jesus] was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they [the disciples] 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?’” Mark 4:37-40.

Professor Mary Ann Tolbert preached a brilliant sermon this past Sunday on this passage in Mark and on the power of fear to destroy faith. As she pointed out, the disciples knew Jesus. They had witnessed first hand his miracles; they had been taught about the realm of heaven; they were not new to his power. And yet, when faced with a dangerous storm, they reacted in fear and forgot all they learned and all they believed.

Tolbert argues that the opposite of faith is not doubt but fear. It was the disciples fear for their own lives that made them retreat inward. Because of their fear they forgot not only Jesus’ power but their love of him as well. Presumably if they were to perish Jesus would too, yet when they cry, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” it wasn’t Jesus but their own skin they were worried about.

Fear has a way of making us small. We retreat into ourselves and look at the outside with foreboding and anxiety. Fear also destroys communities, particularly when manipulated as a mechanism of state power. By keeping people anxious about their own security you also keep them suspicious of anyone around who is in any way different. As the Bush administration’s tactics have revealed, fear is a mighty weapon for inculcating a culture of suspicion against those on the outside of a very narrowly defined norm: immigrants, people of color, LGBT folk. Such manipulation of fear can further be used to legitimate torture on the suspicion that someone might know something and preemptive strike against a country whom we perceive might be a threat.

I am struck by how important an examination of fear is not just of the culture at large but for those of us (and I include myself in this group) who, like the disciples, want to follow Jesus, want to live lives of purpose and justice, but find our courage tested and our faith challenged. I’ve been thinking about this recently in terms of the recent abuses against immigrants.

This Sunday's New York Times reported a recent raid in Long Island of undocumented workers suspected of being part of a gang. Once found, the suspects were taken away without a warrant, without a reading of their Miranda rights, and without the right to a lawyer (unless they could pay for one). To prevent the possibility of their getting legal representation or family support they were transported to York, Pennsylvania rather than questioned locally.

As if all this wasn’t bad enough, federal agents indiscriminately barged into homes of legal immigrants as well as illegal immigrants searching for potential offenders. Such actions are not unique to Long Island but are part of a disturbing, well documented trend that has helped the Bush administration set a new staggering record of 195,000 deportations this last year. By indiscriminately raiding homes, the federal agents weren’t simply casting a wide net out of laziness; they were also visibly flexing their muscles. These stories are cautionary tales, letting us know exactly what we could be facing if we go too far in our protection of immigrants.

As a nation of immigrants it’s time to let our outrage over this kind of inhumane treatment be heard. As people of faith we have the added responsibility of explaining how a doctrine of fear not only keeps our anger in check and thus perpetuates a cycle of violence but also deprives us of faith. Faith rests on the conviction that the world we inhabit is worth loving and thus demands our passionate attention. To love our neighbor as ourselves means risking ourselves for someone else; it means stepping out of our own anxiety, our own isolation, for the possibility of a transformation that is bigger than ourselves. When we can ground our actions in a love that encompasses more than our own fears we can find the courage to act even when the risks seem insurmountable.

Many religious communities are testing their faith right now by challenging real fears to their security and well being. As in the 1980s churches, mosques, and synagogues are declaring themselves a safe zone for immigrants dealing with the daily terror of deportation. This New Sanctuary Movement is being closely monitored and the consequences for congregations and individuals within them are not insubstantial. All congregations aren't ready to take part in the Sanctuary Movement, yet if we are going to move away from fear and toward faith we need to start the dialogue about what kind of moral stance we as religious people are willing to take for our immigrant neighbors against hate, workplace discrimination and unjust deportation.