Anchored

 

Midweek Vespers

The Fifth Week of Easter

A Reading from Luke’s Gospel:

“No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light. Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.”

Then his mother and his brothers came to him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. And he was told, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you.” But he said to them, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

One day he got into a boat with his disciples, and he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side of the lake.” So they put out, and while they were sailing he fell asleep. A windstorm swept down on the lake, and the boat was filling with water, and they were in danger. They went to him and woke him up, shouting, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he woke up and rebuked the wind and the raging waves; they ceased, and there was a calm. He said to them, “Where is your faith?” They were afraid and amazed, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?”

The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

A Reflection by Pseudo-Clement (c.225):

If you be of one mind, you shall be able to reach the haven of rest, wherein is the peaceful City of the Great King. For the whole business of the Church is like unto a great ship, bearing through a violent storm men who are of many places, and who desire to inhabit the one City of the good Kingdom.

Let, therefore, God be your captain; and let the pilot be likened to Christ; the look-out man to the bishop; the sailors to the presbyters; the overseers of the rowers to the deacons; the stewards to the catechists; the multitude of the brethren to the passengers; the world to the sea; the foul winds to temptations, persecutions, and dangers; and all manner of affliction to the waves; the land winds and their squalls to the discourses of deceivers and false prophets; the promontories and rugged rocks to the judges in high places threatening terrible things; the meeting of the two seas, and the wild places, to unreasonable men and those who doubt the promises of truth.

Epistle of Clement to James, Chap. XIV, as reprinted in For All the Saints.

Further Reflection:

I take a certain pleasure in pointing out to children the fact that the roof of our sanctuary looks rather like the keel of a ship. And indeed, this area where the assembly gathers—literally the ecclesia, the church—is called the nave, from the same root as naval or navy. Jesus, being a Galilean, was no stranger to troubled waters. And nautical imagery appears with surprising regularity in the art and literature of the Church. Go to any old cathedral, and you’ll likely find the anchor of hope next to the cross of faith.

This is all the more remarkable when one realizes the fear and trepidation with which ancient peoples approached the sea. A lot of sailors could not swim. And even those civilizations we consider seafaring tended to cling tightly to shore, keeping land in view. In the words of the Emperor Augustus: “Impious was he who first spread sail and braved the terrors of the frantic deep.” And this from the undisputed ruler of the Mediterranean!

The sea was a place of monsters and chaos—home to Leviathan, whom God made “for the sport of it.” From it one could draw treasures and food and life; or one could drown, dashed against rocks, lost in a storm, eaten by serpents and sharks. The seven seas were unpredictable, fickle, and cruel. In the Bible they represent the Gentiles, the nations of the earth, who do not know God, do not know His Law, and so are tossed about like waves.

Yet God has no fear of chaos, nor the Gentiles, nor the sea, for He is Creator and Lord of all. “God alone stretched out the heavens, and trampled the waves of the sea,” we read in the book of Job. “I alone orbited the heavenly sphere and walked on the waves of the sea,” proclaims Holy Wisdom in Sirach. And the Psalmist likewise sings: “O God, your way is through the sea, your path through the great waters.”

Only God can tame the sea. Only God can stand unperturbed upon the waves. And so of course Jesus can only be God in the flesh, the Wisdom of God incarnate. Yet he calls Peter to walk upon the waves as well, does he not? And when Peter fails, it takes but the touch of Jesus’ hand to raise us up from the chaos, to stand on the sea in the storm.

Never has the world seemed more chaotic than today. It isn’t, mind you; it’s just about as chaotic as it’s always been. We’re just more aware of it now. And we’ve lost a lot of stability that society used to provide: family, friends, local connections, volunteer organizations. The Church is one of the last, one of the only, that explicitly seeks to bring together people of all walks of life, all backgrounds, as one body with Christ as our head.

I admit that this is often truer in theory than in practice, at least in our society. But we are here in the same boat, riding the waves of chaos, all together, all as one. For this is how we know Jesus Christ: not just in a book, not just in ideas, but in the sinner sitting next to us in the pews; in the love and forgiveness we show one another; in a new life, a new world, a new way to be human. That’s the Spirit of Jesus, the Holy Spirit of God, who stills the storm and calms the waves and resurrects all the drowned.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.