The Voyages of Brendan

The Travel of Journey of Joshua T. Harvey, World Traveler, in honor of St. Brendan the Navigator

7.01.2006

La Mer: Galilee (Day 25)

I realized today that I have broken through a Kreyol barrier, and have come to the other side of being able to use the words I know without thinking. I am not saying I am anything but a beginner, but I don’t have to try and remember words—what I know is now flowing nicely. I have also suddenly been able to understand more in conversation. I had about an hour discussion with Theremise this morning during which, except the times she spoke too quickly, I understood a fair portion. This figures, of course, since I will be leaving in four days and will not be able to use the language again for some time. It does inspire me to go back to French class for a semester and to possibly take up some German—I will be going to Germany, "si Bondye vle," with the University Chorus next spring, and, hopefully, to Switzerland with my mother.

We went to Mother Theresa’s Orphanage again today. Always a beautiful experience, feeding and nurturing those who are broken and abused; by them, we are evermore changed. I look forward to going to the St. Joseph’s Hospice tomorrow.

Yesterday many of us heard the story of Jesus calming the sea, a tale familiar to all of us: Jesus is sleeping in the bottom of the boat while the disciples are crossing the sea. Suddenly a storm whips up a gale force wind and threatens to capsize the boat. The terrified followers wake their master and plead for help. He rebukes the storm, "Quiet! Be still!" Asking the disciples why they are afraid, he continues with a more poignant question: "Why are you lacking in faith?"
This story, like many of the tales of Jesus, can be seen as fulfillment, literarily and mythologically, or literally and factually, of the Old Testament, the latter parts of Psalm 107 in particular (the Brendan psalm, as I like to think of it, which, it occurs to me, could have informed the famous Latin tale of the saint’s travels). Or, like many of the stories in the Gospels, it can foreshadow the coming trials, death, and resurrection. I had not considered it this way until yesterday, so I would like to use this hermeneutic, that of a foreshadowing, as the point of interpretation. I will also use the event mythologically—that it did not actually happen, literally, but as an elucidation of truth which surpasses mere factuality, that a story can be truer than real life. Early Christians, as I understand it, used the story of Jonah as a symbol for the death of, the harrowing of hell by, and the Resurrection of Jesus. We can view this sea story in a similar light.

In his homily yesterday, the priest at St. Louis de Gonzague said something to the effect of "Jesus was not really sleeping—his eyes were merely closed." This seems true to Jesus’ understanding of death—when he raises someone to life, he always proclaims, "She is not dead, but merely sleeping." This fits the apocalyptic understanding of the Gospel writers regarding the end-times—bodily resurrection. What is more important is Jesus’ laying himself down amidst the world and then reviving into a new situation. He sinks into the bottom of society, descends into the dream-like illusion of existence only to return—but to what? Jesus descends into chaos and revives into peace. What is so important is that the resurrection into the new self is always one that begins in chaos and leads to peace. Psalm 144 begs God to save us "from deep waters, from the power of [our] enemies."

The priest yesterday also pointed out the possibility that Jesus’ apparent detachment was a stratagem for testing the faith of his followers. I could not but wonder if the people of Haiti felt this way, that they are in a sinking ship, waiting for some saving command, an authoritative voice of leadership, a stillness in their lives. It is normal to ask, but I will ask again: can we bring the peace of Christ to them? Can we do this unless we have been taken into the depths of our selves, our errors, our over-active minds and schedules, and been stilled by the power of faith? If we can see ourselves as part of this tossing sea, understand our part in churning off the waves, feel the daily sinking of unmindful actions, and understand this ocean as vast and great suffering—can we then, by faith, come back out and be at peace, even when the boat still is rocking? Can we herald the call of change for the world by sleeping first in inner peace and then commanding stillness outwardly with the great power of our own tranquility? In this harmony we can resolve ourselves both into discord and out again into resolution: integrated serenity of mind, body, and spirit with a resolute will to change ourselves and the world.

It was fascinating to me to think that this story was simply the story of Jesus dying and coming back to stillness—of going under to his enemies, sin and suffering, and to bring us through this process likewise, whether it be literal, or, again, the mythology of our own spiritual journey.
Jesus called most of his followers from the sea. That includes all of us.

EDH: 10:30PM-11:40PM, 12:15AM-1:30AM, 2:30-4:30AM

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