Br. Jamie Nelson, SSJE

Mark 4:35-41

Have you ever visited a church which had a model ship hanging from its ceiling?

Such ships can be found throughout coastal parts of Western Europe, particularly where people have traditionally made their living from the sea.[1] These wooden offerings testify to safe returns from perilous voyages and serve as tokens of gratitude for God’s protection and mercy.[2]

We may not have a model ship hanging from the ceiling here in the monastery chapel, but other features of this space still invite us to ponder the image of a boat. Here’s what I mean:

If you hang around Episcopal churches long enough, you likely have heard someone referring to a location in the church called the nave. That word, “nave,” is the name given to the central part of a worship space where the congregation is seated. Nave comes from the Latin word navis, which means “ship.” [3]

So where is the ship in a nave? If you are sitting in the monastery chapel and look up, you can see our chapel’s vaulted ceiling with its wooden trusses.  The shape is designed to call to mind the inverted hull of a large vessel, signifying the Church Universal, symbolically carrying us and all Christians across the turbulent waters of life on a voyage towards God’s redeemed world. In our chapel, the symbolism is reinforced by the builders’ choice to use stout beams repurposed from an old bridge which carried our neighbors of yesteryear safely across the Mystic River.

In today’s reading, a swift and terrible storm struck while Jesus & his disciples crossed the Sea of Galilee. The disciples’ fear of the storm wasn’t unfounded; it came from a lifetime of experience. Four of them made their living by fishing that lake. They knew the dangerous power of strong waves stirred up by fierce winds coming off the eastern hills. They likely had grieved for friends or family who drowned after their ship sunk in a similar squall.

Yet despite the deadly peril, their teacher remained asleep in the stern, exhausted after teaching the multitudes. The disciples’ cry was one of frustration, likely even anger at Jesus – “Do you not care that we are perishing?”

How often have you found yourself in a time of deep desperation and felt like God was asleep in the stern, that God didn’t appear to notice your suffering?

I know I’ve been there.

But Jesus did notice, and he did act. He asserted his power over the storm, and reminded his followers to let go of fear and hold on to faith.

It might feel like we are in a terrible sudden storm of our own this month, buffeted about by the winds and waves of wildfire, war, political upheaval reducing people’s lives to expendable political capital, and all the other sources of suffering close to our hearts and in our prayers.

Amidst it all, Jesus reminds us to place our trust in him. Jesus, who is our Savior, is always ready to support us, offering strength, hope, and the peace which passes our understanding.

Can you think of a time when Jesus’s gift of strength, hope, and peace has been made visible in your life?

Is there an event from your past which might have inspired you to hang a model ship from the chapel ceiling?

Amen.

[1] See photos here: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Models_of_ships_in_churches

[2] Such offerings belong to a category called “ex-votos,” from the Latin ex voto suscepto, “from the vow made.” They take different forms across cultures, such as crutches left behind by healed Lourdes pilgrims, Mexican folk art votive paintings, etc.

[3] This same Latin root is where the word “navy” comes from.