Psalm 107 pt. 3/4
Let them thank the Lord for his mercy,
his wonders for the children of men. Let them offer a sacrifice of thanks, and tell of his deeds with rejoicing. Some went down to the sea in ships, to trade on the mighty waters. These have seen the deeds of the Lord, the wonders he does in the deep. For he spoke and raised up the storm-wind, tossing high the waves of the sea that surged to heaven and dropped to the depths. Their souls melted away in their distress. They staggered and reeled like drunkards, for all their skill was gone. Then they cried to their Lord in need, and he rescued them from their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper, and the waves of the sea were hushed. They rejoiced because of the calm, and he led them to the heaven they desired. |
Can we imagine for a moment that this life is a journey? Some of us may be familiar with the famous paintings of the Voyage of Life by Thomas Cole. In the first painting there is a young child standing in the middle of a golden boat that is filled to overflowing with flowers and vines and green plants of every kind. At the helm stands the guardian Angel, setting the course and steering the young child through calm waters of a fragrant paradise. Then there are the paintings of youth, of manhood and eventually old age. At each stage of the journey the waters become a little more treacherous, the surrounding land a bit more barren and the protector a standing off a little further. If one looks carefully at the boat, you will notice that the helm slowly disappear, life becomes uncontrollable and unguidable--perhaps the storm winds are raised up, tossing high the waves of the sea. But the man in the painting survives, the foolish dreams of youth pass into the reality of a hard life that can look impossible and insurmountable at times, crushed against the rocks of the real world--and then he passes into the age of the elder. Having survived, now returned to flat waters of the sea. His guide is far away, but looking to heaven the old man sees so much more. The journey of one life that is at its end, and the vision of something new, the curtains of heaven drawn back so that we may glimpse the Glory of the Lord.
There is no surprise in thinking of life as a journey. We have all thought about it many times. Sometimes as a river steady in its down stream flow; sometimes as a road--less or more traveled; or even sometimes as a mountain, a steady climb from valley to summit, a large mansion and castle, ever-winding inward to the dwelling of our most beloved. This Psalm is also singing of a journey, but not something that is simply private and personal. Some went down to the waters in ships to trade on the mighty waters. Life is not alone, nor a private affair. What we are given here is the scene of not just one person in a single boat, but many people and many boats, but let us also fill the scene in a little more. If some went down, then others did not--and perhaps many did not. They stood along the shoreline watching the activity on the sea; others are standing far off in the foothills, possibly walking toward the shore and some walking toward the city in the far off distance and where many more dwell. There is chatter, private conversations about events that had transpired, teachers giving instruction to children, people bartering for wares, and vocal arguments of a less friendly accord. The din of constant and random noises fills the air, along with dusty clouds from the street, the aroma of freshly baked bread and stench of raw meat hung to dry and cure. The heat is motionless as the crowded streets mill around. Life and daily work move forward; trade smiths and merchants exchanging their goods. Fortune tellers and money changers are busy at hand. But some went down to the waters in ships to trade on the mighty waters We know what scripture says about life in the cities, what the Lord saw when he went down to Soddom and Gemorrah (Gn 19:1-11); the prophecies against Babylon, her splendor that would be reduced to ash and ruin (Is 13). The cities are the life of this world: greed for material goods and the desire for physical pleasures and instant gratification that keeps our attention on the treasures and rewards of this life, no longer looking or even thinking about the next. We think about our body and forget about our spirit. But some went down to trade on the mighty waters. The waters are full of life. If one is thinking about the waters of creation now, then you are not far off. The Psalmist goes un to tell us: He stilled the storm to a whisper, and the waves of the sea were hushed. They rejoiced because of the calm, and he led them to the heaven they desired. Surely, these are the waters of the deep. The Spirit hovering over the source and fabric of life. It's to hear that some came in their ships, to trade on the mighty waters. The waters are full of life and trade, bustling perhaps with fishermen, sailors and shoremen. Some are cleaning the decks, others shoring the lines, a tailor to mend the sails, a cook to feed the crew and a watchman to guide safely through the harbor. Some went down to trade on the mighty waters, to trade in the goods of the spirit, to conduct the work of the soul. Like the peasant who sold all he had to buy a field, or the servant who found a pearl of great worth, they value the treasure that is worth valuing: They were trading upon the mighty waters These have seen the deeds of the Lord the wonders he does in the deep As John of the Cross describes: In darkness and secure, By the secret ladder, disguised -- Oh Happy chance! In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest . . . This Light guided me More surely than the light of noonday To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me. ( Dark Night, Prolog 2-4) Can anyone hear these words and not feel their heart pounding, the Love raging from within as if waves tossed high in the sea, the storm winds raised high and within. The waters of creation itself churning from within--Life swelling effulgently, bursting inside; the power of the Spirit blowing, breathing that sound of life and mystery into our very being. "And then God spoke...Let us make man in our image..." (Gn 1:26) and so God made man, crafting him from the clay of the earth, breathing His own breath, giving to us His very life that raises is up to the heaven in His image and likeness, in one way as we might imagine a potter or sculptor shaping the mound of clay into his image and likeness, that is, with a vision and capacity that can become like Him, like the crafter and creator, but not yet, still empty and void inside; a clay impression of life itself, a shell of the One of Power and Glory, remains yet only a shell. And then God took man, in a way that He had not touched any creation on earth and He breathed upon him. He breathed His own breath, what the Hebrew calls Nephesh, that is, the breath that is not merely air and wind being expelled from the lungs, but the very life giving substance and spirit of one's self; that which makes God, God. The Lord gave into the man of His very own being and life, that the one formed into His own image and likeness might not remain lifeless, and empty, and dead, but that he might have life and have it abundantly (Jn 10:10). That this very breath and wind of life may carry us up the ladder in secret and secure. For he spoke and raised up the storm-wind tossing high the waves of the sea that surged to heaven and dropped to the depths Who cannot now feel and recognize the waters of creation that continue to well within us; or see the image of the soul that is inspired by a kindling love, that surged to heaven -- and dropped to the depths, as one climbing and falling from Jacob's ladder (Gn 28:12), that we may know it is not our work, our will, or our strength by which we ascend to heaven, but by the will, glory, and power of God that we are first raised, and then fall. We are not the angels and saints of Jacob's vision ascending and descending the ladder: “a stairway rested on the ground, with its top reaching tot he heavens; and God’s messengers were going up and down it.” (ibid.) some are clearly moving by their own will, according to the words and decrees of God, some others are weighed and deposed by the works of demons dragging and weighing us down; none of us are able to ascend of our own volition, to reach heaven by the work and toil of our own hands or by the sweat of our own brow--but by the breath of life blowing secure, steady with the breeze of the rising sun, the Morning Star that spurs light to life. These in the Psalm, though inspired and pounding, raised to the very heights by the storm-winds raging They surged to heaven and dropped to the depths Their souls melted away in their distress. They staggered and reeled like drunkards, for all their skill was gone. We know the images of the raging furnace, the steel that is forged and strengthened by the intense heat, the gold that is tempered, the impurities and and imperfections removed. This is the Dark Night, the blindness of the soul and those elements within us that we cannot yet see; a plank in the eye to which we are blind, so long as we look at another; parts that remain hidden from us, yet we know that they may keep us from being as good as we believe that we can become. Perhaps we have that longing for a career that has prevented us from starting a family, or leading the life that we are afraid to seek; or we have a love for football that draws our attention away from church on Sunday; or the expectations of parents and family that chooses our field of study; or are so enthralled by the next electronic gadget that we've been unable to put money aside to help a friend in need. In the beginning of this Psalm, we heard the Lord calling forth people from every direction: gathered from far off lands, from east and west, from north and south. These who have come upon the mighty waters, tossed high upon the waves of the sea, staggered and reeled like drunkards, are the ones who have come from the south. From the south comes the high wind (cf. Jb. 39:26), which dwells with her younger sister, Sodom (Ez. cf. 16:46) and kindles a fire that devours every green and dry tree (Ez. 20:46). The high wind from the south that raises the hawk to the greatest heights (cf. Jb. 39:26), the burning wind of the soul, the flames that consumed Sodom. What can we imagine happens when this same wind hits upon the once calm waters of the sea? The heat of the dry furnace raising high the stormy waters; the violence and chaos of earthen swales, of sails tattered and torn from their rigging; the heat and the purging fires of Sodom coming into contact with our very soul, devouring and consuming every dry branch and tree--that which does not bear good fruit is either withered or pruned, pulled back so that the growth of everything green and plentiful may once again grow, the vines and grapes that may produce 30, 60 or hundred fold, cared for by the tender hands of the owner of the vineyard, the Master of the house and of our love. This is the work of the soul. They that come down to the sea in ships, to trade on the mighty waters. These (who) have seen the deeds of the Lord, the wonders he does in the deep. It is the danger of the city, the sister of Sodom, of consumption and of wealth and the comforts of this life that comes from the south. The wind is not the danger; we have already spoken of God's life giving breath that raises the hawk to the greatest of heights and who breathed upon the mighty waters of the deep. But this wind that has also blown over the great deserts of the south, over Egypt and the Negev, the barren land that produces no life, no vegetation, no tree nor shrub of any size; it is dry, hardened and caloused soil that is not even soil, a land that destroys seeds of every kind, where even the tiniest mustard seed becomes dry and withered. This land, and these parts that have become like Sodom, where not even one who is righteous, who truly loves the Lord, can be found. Is this not what also happens within us? Are we not the ground on which the Sower has scattered his seed? Or the branch of the vineyard that is finely pruned to produce a great harvest? Is our heart not the home of the fig tree? It is not that we are entirely filled with thorns and hopeless sand. We are not completely like Sodom where there is not even one of us without the tiniest seed of Love for the Lord. Neither are we completely like Jerusalem, that city of perfect growth and without blemish. But that we are each like the whole of Israel, like the earth in its fullness and completeness, gathered from the east and west, the north and the south. Parts of us are like Sodom, wicked and unfaithful, without life; parts are like Judah, kingly and ever vigilant in loyalty to her Master; Babylon resides as a piece inside of me, the harlot who chases after other lovers, other joys...who gives up a Friday of fasting in order to join a friend at the movies, skips going to mass for an afternoon baseball game, claims to have nothing to give to the poor and hungry so that I can have my morning late, or neglects compline prayer so that I can play video games. There are parts within that need cleansing and purging; some with any eye toward heaven and others toward the treasures of this life and this world. If we can imagine that some have gone down to the sea to trade upon the mighty waters, then the storm wind raised up, tossing high the seas-- Is this not what often happens within us? that we are torn and in conflict within ourselves? We, the exiled sons and daughters of Eve. Here is a difficult image for us to comprehend today, our exile into this earthly world that is not our own, not our nature, our natural habitat, or our desired homeland. This image that we are spiritual beings living in a foreign land doesn't seem to make sense to most of us on most days. This is our home. This was our birth from our mother's womb and the reality that is truly real and meaningful--except for that place in heaven to which we ascend upon our death. But must we truly wait for death? In the darkness and secure, By the secret ladder disguised In darkness and in concealment, My house being now at rest . . . This Light guided me More surely than the light of noonday To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me. (Dark Night, Prolog 2-4.) Our soul ascends, the wind raising it toward the One we love today and in this very moment. Who has not noticed that there are times when we desire one thing, to do Good, yet do something entirely different? Even the Apostle confesses: “I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil that I do not want” (Rm. 7:19). That there are times when I want, and even promise to help those in need, but to everyone who asks me on the street, disturbing me from whatever thoughts of heaven my be rolling in my mind, I say nothing but "I’m sorry, I don't have anything."; or perhaps I am longing for a quiet night of prayer and meditation, or of reading one of the many spiritual works on my bookshelf, yet I play a video on my computer instead. We have already spoken about the chains and bonds of sin, of addictions and powerlessness. Those are not the storm winds that rage inside, nor the chaos and the conflict between the desire for life and for comfort, for a treasure of gold or that invaluable pearl, of the Love of a Father, or the love for our father; for either the life of the Spirit or the life of this earth. What is beneficial to the one, is not always beneficial to the other. At most times we want to confuse ourselves. We want to convince ourselves that there is no conflict, there is no need to choose between one or the other, of the ways of God or the ways of Men. But what does scripture tell us? What does our Lord say to the young rich man who wants to follow him? What do we know in our past that we thought would bring us happiness, and what brought us happiness? What has brought us emptiness and nothing but an increased longing? What do we know makes us truly human, that gives us a true Spirit of life and nourishes the soul? Is it the bread that we bake with our hands? or the Bread that we share at the altar. This we know . . . and I have no doubts that everyone listening to this today has known and experienced such love, and yet, we also try to protect the comforts and enjoyment that we have. We are caught in this storm, the raging waters of the deep that seek to vault us to the highest heavens, and plunge us to the depths. “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing!” (Mk. 4:38) He stilled the storm to a whisper, and the waves of the sea were hushed. They rejoiced because of the calm and he led them to the heaven they desired. " ‘Quiet! Be still!’ The wind ceased and there was a great calm." (Mk. 4:39) -and so they believed- “They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?” (Mk. 4:41) |