The legend lives on from the Chippewa down,
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Some of the words of Gordon Lightfoot’s famous song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”. In November 1975 the ore carrier Edmund Fitzgerald sank during a gale on Lake Superior, with all 29 crew on board. There were no clues to why the ship sank, and no distress calls recorded. It was the worst loss in Great Lakes shipping history. (1)
Lake Erie is the shallowest of the Great Lakes, at a depth of just 200 feet. It is easily stirred up by west winds to produce violent waves and even the largest boats are put at risk.
“Ships caught on the Great Lakes during such fierce storms can be tossed like toys in the fury of wind and wave. As early as 1835, a November storm "swept the lakes clear of sail." In 1847, a major storm claimed 77 ships on the Great Lakes. Ten years later, 65 vessels went down as a storm crossed the Lakes. A gale on Lake Superior in 1905 wrecked 111 ships and sent 14 steel carriers ashore. In 1958 and 1975, powerful storms also caused shipwrecks and damage over the Great Lakes.” (2)
Back in 2006, Norio and I went on a cruise, - yes, you already know we love cruising.....and while I don’t want to do the cruise imagery to death, it’s really useful for sermons. So we’ll see how many sermons I can wring out of a cruise before you all get fed up.
On this cruise, we were informed that because of a large weather system, we would sail about three hundred nautical miles out of our way, through the Bermuda Triangle (at which many of us looked at each other and went “Woooooo!!!!”). However, we were told, we would get the edges of the storm. That night I heard thunder, and went out on the balcony. Wow, was it amazing! The seas were high, the spray flying around, - I was enthralled with it! It was actually quite exciting. Norio peeled open an eye and requested that the balcony door be shut.
The rest of the cruise was sunny and warm, with small seas. Everyone was up on deck in the wonderful weather. It occurred to me as I looked around at the vast Atlantic, with just our one ship out there, no land or other ships in sight, what it really means to be “at sea”, and to put your trust and faith into someone else’s hands.
(Video) (photo)
I did a little reading on storms on the Sea of Galilee, which is really a lake. The storms are a result of different temperatures between the seacoast and the mountains. The Sea of Galilee lies 680 feet below sea level, bounded by hills, especially on the east side where they reach 2000 feet high. These heights are a source of cool, dry air. In contrast, directly around the sea, the climate is semi-tropical with warm, moist air. The difference in height between surrounding land and the sea causes large temperature and pressure changes. This results in strong winds dropping to the sea, funnelling through the hills. The Sea of Galilee is small, and these winds may descend directly to the center of the lake with violent results. When the contrasting air masses meet, a storm can arise without warning. Small boats on the water are in immediate danger. The Sea of Galilee is relatively shallow, just 200 feet at its greatest depth. A shallow lake is “whipped up” by wind more rapidly than deep water, where energy is more readily absorbed. (3)
So there they are, out on the Sea of Galilee, in a boat, at night. Now, this isn’t strange at all. There are other incidents where we are told they are fishing at night. In Japan, and probably elsewhere, the squid boats go out at night and long after dark there are little lights bobbing up and down on the water. Mark’s narrative also tells us there are other boats with them. Jesus has asked them to go right across the lake to the other side. As they sail, he is snoozing gently in the hold when the storm comes up. He seems to be completely oblivious to the raging wind and waves, and the fear around him. When they finally waken him, he is pretty cranky with them. He asks if they have no faith.
Well, what would be your reaction? Wouldn’t you be flashing around bailing like crazy, trying to get the sails in, if they were up? If a wave is taller than a boat is long, the boat is going to go down. Maybe they were not of such "little faith" as all that. Maybe they were frantically using all their skills and couldn't believe that Jesus didn't wake up, and maybe they thought if he was sleeping through it, he was going to let the storm overtake them and swamp the boat. Maybe they thought he should get off his holy backside, and do a little rowing, or something. Maybe they were no more afraid than they ever were at such moments - maybe it was an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, and they expected Jesus to pitch in, not nap while they were doing everything. As for the other boats, presumably they were also dealing with the storm -- so if they had sunk, there would not be much help for a rescue there.
Gordon Lightfoot’s song says “Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” I wonder. In the storm they experienced, the minutes became hours. Jesus had asked them to go all the way to the other side, something they normally didn’t do. There they were in the middle of something bigger than all their previous experience, and Jesus appeared to be asleep.
Is this a story of trusting Jesus in the usual storms of our personal lives, or is Mark here talking about storms particular to those who follow Jesus on a journey to an unknown place -- struggling against injustice, confronting evil, crossing boundaries and borders to seek healing, reaching out to the rejected of society, embarking on new ways of being in a confusing world where nothing is the way it was?
Rev. Jane Baker says “My congregation is in the midst of changes within itself, within the community, and our annual conference. Our responses to these changes we face as a result of the Spirit's leading is how we respond to the chaos and storms change always brings about. Not only that, it is a story about how we trust the Spirit's leading.”
I think this passage has long been used mostly for personal reasons, not that there is anything wrong with this, but the interpretation doesn't get to the idea of the church itself and what may occur as the church struggles to follow Jesus. I do see it about the church and its faith and trust, with Jesus in the boat with us.
“Does anyone know where the love of God goes.....?” In the real seafaring world, even when the ship goes down with all hands, God’s love is there - weeping into the storm. In the parable storms, which are meant to teach us about living in an emergent church - which are meant to teach us about sailing through unknown experiences - the love of God is still there. We as a church have to trust that God is there with us, and that with God’s presence we too have the power to still the waves and the winds.
On that particular cruise, the first daily announcement from the captain went something like this: “You are on a ship in the middle of the ocean with three thousand other people. You cannot get off for the next seven days. We are all in this boat together, so to speak, so let us be courteous and considerate of one another.” A cruise ship with over three thousand people from sixty different countries is a good analogy for the world we live in. We’re all in this boat, despite our cultural and religious differences - the bottom line is that we are all people, and if we believe what we state in our creed, we believe in a God who has created and is creating, who works in us and others by the Spirit. The wind of the Spirit blows on the water, and God continues to create. Regardless of difference, we have an awful lot in common - our lives and our humanity.
And it’s no accident that church architecture is supposed to represent the inside of a ship - and the central part of the church is called the ‘nave’ - from the same root as the word navy and naval. We in the church are in the same boat together.
So I guess I’m trying to work with several images. First, the human race is a people at sea, sailing on a ship called earth. Second, the church is a kind of ship, carrying those who have faith in a God of love and compassion. Third, in both cases we are going to encounter storms along the way, as well as good sunny weather. How we respond is what makes a difference.
I thought about how much faith and trust I put into the hands of a Captain I’d never met before, and a crew of unknown people. I thought about the immense responsibility of commanding a crew of 850, with a passenger list of 2500 - and virtually every one of those people put their faith in one man - the Captain. I trusted that he and the other officers knew their business - in fact, I never questioned it. Someone else did! At the ship talk, realising that we had the Captain, First Officer and Engineer giving us a show, someone hollered out “Hey, who’s driving the ship?”
Someone else at the Ship Talk asked about how to know where other ships are, and if there are warning systems. Of course there’s a radar system, but all ships have to have running lights bright enough to be seen. Otherwise there would be more disasters of ships running into each other.
In my image of the ship, Jesus is the leading light. But no ship can run with only one light. Jesus can be in the ship with us, but if Jesus is the only light, then the ship will go down anyway. Every ship needs running lights, too - both to port and starboard. Every ship needs light to see every other ship, and be seen by every other ship. With a leading light alone, progress is slow. With running lights only, progress is also hampered. In a storm, the lights - both leading and running - are even more critical.
Sometimes it seems that the church and Christians are no longer even in the boat, let alone sailing through a storm. The world in all its diversity has come to our doorstep, yet we’re still pretending it’s not there. We still want to remake the world to our liking, instead of dealing with it as it is. At the same time, when things go wrong we either assume Jesus will look after it all, or blame Jesus for not anticipating the storm and saving us the stress. “We’re foundering!” cry the followers. And Jesus sits up from his desperately needed nap, looks at everyone and says “You need to have some faith. Get with it already!”
The great American preacher, Harry Emerson Fosdick, was a Baptist minister who went on to the inter-denominational Riverside Cathedral in New York. Here is a quote of his, "Fear and Faith"
Fear imprisons, faith liberates;
Fear paralyzes, faith empowers;
Fear disheartens, faith encourages;
Fear sickens, faith heals;
Fear makes useless, faith makes serviceable;
And, most of all, fear puts hopelessness at the heart of all,
While faith rejoices in its God." (4)
May it be so.
1. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”, Gordon Lightfoot, 1975.
2. http://www.islandnet.com/~see/weather/almanac/arc_1998/98nov01.htm
3. Dr. Donald B. DeYoung of Creation Research Society. Copyright © 1992, 2003, Donald B. DeYoung, in “Weather & the Bible”, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1992).
4. http
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