Other little ships

This is a difficult article to compose. I am writing against the backdrop of lockdown and anti-vaccine mandate protests stretching into weeks in Ottawa, with the city under an intractable siege within the downtown core and the Parliamentary precinct. These protests have spread across the country, laying bare a seething rage that was just below the surface of our society. We will soon be moving into the third year of the global pandemic with patience waning, nerves frayed and rifts growing within our society. As our Synod Speaker last Fall, Bishop William Cliff, noted to me: “People are brittle, they are breaking easily.”

The challenges of the global pandemic have been unique in that they have affected every aspect of life from our households to global international relationships. Added to this mess, are the growing international tensions between the NATO states and Russia over Ukraine, coupled with the increasing global influence of China while domestic human rights in that country and Hong Kong are swept aside. I continually pray for all those who are bending every ounce of their energy to achieving peaceful, diplomatic and enduring solutions for all of these issues. 

I remember a Facebook post that I saw during the first Lenten season of the global pandemic. As we finally emerged from Lent and began the journey through Holy Week, the writer declared: “This was the Lentiest, Lent I have ever Lented!” It spoke to the temper of the times which has only grown more intemperate as the months have dragged into years.

My belief though is that the Lenten observance and the journey through Holy Week is exactly what we need as followers of Jesus Christ in these times. We can confront the lack of light, ever growing storm clouds and angry voices with the Good News of the Gospel. It puts me in mind of a few words found in Mark’s Gospel chapter 4, the story of Jesus calming the sea. After Jesus had taught the crowds on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he declared that they would now cross over to the other side of the sea. 

The other side was the place of the unknown, the land of the Garasenes, people who were not part of the Covenant. Foreshadowing the confrontation Jesus would have with the demon possessed man in that land, a great tempest suddenly arose. Jesus was asleep in the stern while the disciples struggled to keep the boat afloat and to make matters worse it was during the pitch black of night. We know the story, how Jesus rebuked the winds with the words: “Peace, be still”. The disciples were astounded by what they saw.

But these are not the few words which are in sharp focus for me today. They are found in a brief, seemingly insignificant sentence of nine words: “And there were also with him, other little ships.” This is where you and I find ourselves, sailing toward an unknown land, with the tempest raging, struggling to keep our little boat afloat. Jesus is somewhere at the head of this threatened flotilla. What was he doing in that lead boat? We might assume he was struggling along with the disciples who accompanied him. I would wager that the last thing we would surmise, as we struggled to keep our own boat from swamping, was that he was fast asleep in the stern!

Suddenly, the storm is stilled, the struggles cease and the welcome stillness of the night was adorned with a starlit sky spread above them. I can imagine that as word spread through the flotilla, so to did the amazement that seized the disciples in the lead boat with Jesus. “Who is this that even the wind and waves obey him?” 

The answer can be found in the story that began our Lenten observance. Jesus had faced a tempest of a different sort in that story, when at his weakest point, he was confronted with the temptations of the devil. Encouraged to attend to his own survival through the divine provision of sustenance, security and power, Jesus chose the path of faith and trust after which angels came and ministered to him. What was a tempest on the sea compared to that? More a tempest in a teapot given Jesus’ trust in divine deliverance.

We can face the turbulent times around us with confidence, hope and certainty for Christ is in our midst. This is the hope that attends me as I sail along in my own little boat, trying to navigate the turmoil of the times. Better still, we are not sailing toward an unknown land but toward that which is fully known, the entrance of which is illuminated through an empty tomb occupied only with folded grave clothes and an angel who declares: “He is not here!” “He is risen!” 

May that trust and certainty be with you through Lent, Holy Week and Easter as we sail along into the future that is known, certain and secured in Christ. Tempest indeed! I guess this article was not as difficult to write as I thought!