The Second Element

Understanding the master metaphor of water and ship

07/02/2024

MT 8:23-27 As Jesus got into a boat, his disciples followed him. Suddenly a violent storm came up on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by waves; but he was asleep. They came and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” He said to them, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” Then he got up, rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was great calm. The men were amazed and said, “What sort of man is this, whom even the winds and the sea obey?”

One of the most popular places for summer vacation is somewhere near, in, around, or on water, the second of the four classic elements: earth, water, fire, and wind. Some people love to lounge by their swimming pool, trying to tan and look like Fr. John. Others rambunctiously boat or ski on lakes. Still others quietly fish on rivers. My brother and his family sent me a picture yesterday as they boarded an Alaskan cruise, hoping to see a whale. We are mesmerized by the wonder of water like we are fascinated by the flicker of a flame.

But while water can be wonderful, it can also become wild and dangerous. That is how Gilligan’s Island ominously started, remember: “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip…” And later, “The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost.” In other words, while we are irresistibly drawn to water to rest and relax, we are also keenly aware of its inherent dangers.

If we can keep this fascination in mind of both the wonder and wildness of water, we can begin to appreciate it as a metaphor for life, as well as see the Church as a ship on the open seas. In fact, churches, especially the great cathedrals, were deliberately designed to evoke the imagery of being inside a great ship when we walk into a church. How so?

Bishop Robert Barron explained why the central aisle of the church is called a “nave.” He wrote: “The etymology of the word is somewhat ambiguous, but it seems to be derived from the Latin navis, meaning ship or boat…When pilgrims enter the hull of this cathedral-ship, they are meant to feel a rush of relief, a keen sensation of being secure even as the waves crash against its side.”

On the next page, Bishop Barron develops another fascinating dimension of the cathedral as a ship. He elaborates: “If you position yourself behind Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris and look back at the mighty building as it looms over the Seine, you see the flying buttresses jutting out from the side of the church. And with this naval imagery in mind, you can’t help but imagine them as oars sticking out from a great ship and propelling it through the ages.”

The U.S.S. Minnow indeed! In other words, the safest place to experience the wonder and also the wildness of water is in the secure nave of a great ship, and that becomes a master metaphor for the Christian life. The storms and waves of life crash against the sides of the Church, the barque of St. Peter, and we ride out the storms safely inside.

With this metaphor of the Christian life in mind we get a deeper understanding of today’s gospel from Matthew 8:23-27. Jesus and the disciples are in a boat on the Sea of Galilee (probably during their summer vacation). A violent storm erupts and we read how “the boat was being swamped by the waves.” Hearing the desperate cries of his disciples, Jesus rebukes the wind and waves and the seas were calmed.

This gesture of commanding the seas is supposed to evoke the beginning of creation where God stretched out his hand over the deep waters of chaos and brought forth creation. That is, Jesus’ mastery over the waves and winds testify to his divinity. Put differently, the waters of the Sea of Galilee would recognize who Jesus was long before the disciples from Galilee would.

My friends, try to think about your Christian life like a journey through open seas. When the water is calm and peaceful, like during summer vacation, we can sunbathe by our pools, fish in the rivers, ski on the lakes, and hope a whale winks at us on a cruise. But eventually storms come up, as Barron observes: “human life is a dangerous proposition. We are surrounded on all sides by threats: warfare, disease, failure, economic collapse, loss of friendship, death itself.”

And in such storms and calamities don’t look for the U.S.S. Minnow to save you, but rather board the Barque of St. Peter, the Catholic Church. And knowing Jesus is with us to calm the storms of life and help us safely reach the harbor of heaven, let us set sail with faith and confidence into open seas. I love a meme that I saw recently that said: “A ship is safe in harbor, but that is not what ships are made for.” “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip,” and that fateful trip is precisely the Christian enterprise.