Tuesday, March 6, 2007

The Sea





The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” (Vincent Van Gogh)









In Handel's "Messiah," one of the arias begins with "I know that my Redeemer liveth." It is a statement of hope and a statement of certainty.

(Not to mention one of the most heart-breakingly beautiful pieces of music ever written.)

Consider it.

Jesus was a simple* man. He was a carpenter, bred in inland Bethlehem, but He easily surfed with his fisher brethren who lived, and died, on the sea, because He was the original Renaissance Man.

Jesus's love of -- and familiarity with -- the sea, resonates with me.

Water. Power. No control. ALL control. Myriad, competing calls ... all of which return to the source, which is water. It is as fluid, and timeless, as now.

The ocean is my womb, my brother, my friend, my enemy, my lover ... it is as indivisible as breath, as warmth, as sight, as wonder.

UPDATE: Commenter j.d. hildebrand shared this verse, expressing that it should be added, and I completely agree. (Thank you, jdh!) It is wonderful. Here it is:

And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.



1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This verse should be part of this post, no?

And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.