Jesus the Teacher and the Hard Row

A metaphor for the value of keeping our distance?

Jesus the Teacher and the Hard Row

I'm trying out a new format today. After my "one big thing" up top here, I'll share a couple links and recs. Read to the end for 🎵 boss banger.🎵


A few weeks ago, through some devotional or other, I heard in a new way Mark's version (6:45–52) of the story of Jesus walking on the water:

Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After saying farewell to them, he went up on the mountain to pray.
When evening came, the boat was out on the lake, and he was alone on the land. When he saw that they were straining at the oars against an adverse wind, he came towards them early in the morning, walking on the lake. He intended to pass them by. But when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw him and were terrified. But immediately he spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ Then he got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.

What caught my attention was verse 48: "When he saw that they were straining at the oars against an adverse wind, he came towards them early in the morning, walking on the lake. He intended to pass them by."

Matthew's and John's versions of this story, the former being otherwise quite similar to Mark's, do not have this detail.

Why did he come toward them if he intended to pass them by?

I don't know why I fixated on this detail and the ensuing interpretive puzzle. But I can tell you what I've made of it in the days since. I'm sharing it here because, well, it's very on brand for me and for this newsletter.

I take for granted the idea that a huge part of what Jesus is up to in the gospels is forming the faith of his closest followers, knowing that they will be the ones to carry on the message of the good news.

Through that lens, we might gloss the story as follows:

Jesus the Teacher sends the disciples out ahead without him, as he so often does. After his prayerful mountaintop respite, he does what every good teacher is constantly doing: he checks in. Jesus the Teacher sees that his pupils are struggling, so he comes in for a closer look. Still he intends not to get involved. Only when they cry out in terror does Jesus the Teacher get in the boat with them for a one-line sermonette and impromptu change in the weather.

When I look at this scene, I see the marks of the kind of learning space shown time and time again to produce the best results: high challenge, high support.

One of the reasons I love teaching online is that the place where I fall short of this ideal in person is in keeping my distance. I don't like to see people struggling. I have a hard time setting someone at a challenging task and then not diving in at the first sign of frustration. I'm an over-functioner to the max, and I have difficulty not wanting to rescue others from discomfort. When I'm teaching online, I get a little more space from that discomfort. I can make it clear that I'm on offer for support, but the format itself helps me hold the space in a more appropriate manner.

Jesus, it seems pretty clear, did not have this problem. He intended to pass them by. But the reason he's in their vicinity in the first place, in this view, is that he needs to know how they're doing. A little mid-activity formative assessment, in the language of education. And when it becomes clear that they positively need support, he gets in the boat.

There's a high challenge, high support graphic I especially like, by British educator Jonathan Sandling. When he puts challenge and reward on axes and labels the quadrants, he notes that high support, low challenge ("the protector," always my temptation) leads to a "culture of entitlement and mistrust." High support, high challenge, on the other hand, is the approach of "the liberator," which helps build a "culture of empowerment and opportunity." Sounds like Jesus to me.

You might be naturally gifted at staying in the liberatory quadrant, or you might have a different temptation toward over- and/or under-functioning in providing both challenge and support.

Whatever the case, I hope you will find this image as helpful as I have: Jesus the Teacher there in the background, present but not smothering. He lets his disciples get on with tackling the challenge before them. He's ready to offer support, but only when truly needed. And if there's any doubt about when exactly that need is truly present, he waits for them to ask—knowing that he has already established himself as trustworthy.


Resource Rec: Platformer

So, wow, things are not good right now. I'm not a politics expert, but to the extent that the politics intersects with the new media side of our common life, I'm trying my best to follow along and share the most cogent analysis.

With the heads of major tech platforms cozying up to the new/old president, I can make no better recommendation to you right now than Platformer, the newsletter by tech reporter Casey Newton. I've mentioned it here before, but now's an especially good time to subscribe (free or paid) if you want to understand all the changes taking place (especially at Meta) and get a thoughtful and sober assessment of ways a concerned citizen might respond.

I'll have more to say about what I think is our biggest challenge amid the current tech-oligarchic regime in a future newsletter, and Newton's reporting is significantly shaping my thinking.


Culture Rec: "The Impression that I Get" by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

Have you ever actually processed the message of this absolute banger? You might be surprised, especially if you think ska is silly. This song has been especially meaningful for me recently.

See you soon, friends.