When Water Does Not Win
Photo by Matt Hardy on Unsplash
Long ago we had water in our basement. Seeking help, we happened on a wise old man who came to help us. He began with us didactically: “Water always wins.” He meant that water is relentless; it cannot be controlled or eliminated. It can be channeled, but it will have a decisive say. In the end he nicely channeled the water away from our house and we had a dry basement.
These wise words, “Water always wins,” came to my mind a few Sundays ago in church when one of our two favorite soloists, Dave, sang “Eternal Father Strong to Save:”*
Eternal father, strong to save,
Whose arm does bind the restless wave,
Who bids the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
O Savior, whose almighty word
The winds and waves submissive heard,
Who walked upon the foaming deep,
And calm amid the rage did sleep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
O Holy Spirit, who did brood
Upon the waters dark and rude,
And bid their angry tumult cease,
And give for wild confusion peace;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
O Trinity of love and pow’r,
Your children shield in danger’s hour;
From rock and tempest, fire, and foe,
Protect them where-so- e’er they go;
Thus, ever more shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.
(“Eternal Father Strong to Save” by William Whiting).
By its particular use, this hymn is strongly linked to the US navy. It conjures up images of the mighty ships of the US navy, with saluting officers and corps of sailors in line and at attention. But of course the hymn itself is not noticeably linked to the navy. Rather it takes up the mighty surging waters of chaos, engages in prayer to the creator God, and petitions God’s rescuing help for all those “in peril on the sea.” The first stanza celebrates the capacity of the creator to limit the seas, to say to the surging waters, “Thus far and no farther” (see Jeremiah 5:22). The second stanza alludes to the narrative of Jesus walking on the water (see John 6:16-21), and the third verse imagines the moment when the creator God tamed tohu wabohu (see Genesis 1:2). The final stanza is a more generic petition for God’s protection from many threats, including wild tempest, fire and foe. In all the hymn, in its grand solemnity, affirms the capacity of God to maintain a safely ordered creation amid coursing chaos. It is easy enough to link this recognition of chaos to the particular risks and dangers of those at sea, thus the risks and dangers of those in the navy. The prayer is that they be kept safely. Indeed the hymn is a prayer that the waters--the seething forceful disorder of chaos--need not win.
In its pre-scientific articulation of creation, ancient Israel understood that the created order of the world is sustained by the creator God who held back the chaotic waters that were all around the earth, and that were endlessly moving against the created order in threatening ways. The safety and wellbeing of creation depends upon the durable, constant attentiveness of the creator. But Israel could also bring this cosmic imagery down to cases, so that it knew about the real threat of real waters. This in Psalm 107, we get four exemplar instances of God’s mighty rescuing power concerning those in the desert, those in prison, the sick, and those at sea. In the fourth stanza of the Psalm, the doxology concerns those who “went down to the sea in ships”:
Some went down to the sea in ships,
doing business on the mighty waters;
they saw the deeds of the Lord,
his wondrous works in the deep.
For he commanded and raised the stormy wind,
which lifted up the waves of the sea.
They mounted up to heaven,
they went down to the depths;
their courage melted away in their calamity;
they reeled and staggered like drunkards,
and were at their wits’ end.
Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and he brought them out from their distress;
he made the storm be still,
and the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad because they had quiet,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
Let them thanks the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wonderful works to humankind.
Let them extol him in the congregation of the people,
and praise him in the assembly of the elders (Psalm 107:23-32).
This narrative recital of human emergency and divine rescue follows the rhetorical pattern established in the previous verses. In each case the crisis is described. Second, those in emergency “cried out to the Lord,” and were immediately heard. The rescue by God follows promptly upon the prayer of petition. The fourth element in each case is thanks to YHWH for YHWH’s “steadfast love” that YHWH enacts through the rescue. In each case, including the fourth one on water, YHWH presides over the threat. Israel readily recognizes the decisive action of YHWH and sings praise. In the third case in verse 33, the act of thanks is reinforced by the offering of thanksgiving sacrifices (on which see Psalm 116:12-19).
Thus our “naval hymn” echoes and reiterates a theme from scripture that assures a world view in which our “safe place” is kept safe by the capacity of the creator God to order, limit, and subdue the mighty forces of chaos. That capacity of the creator to manage chaos is, moreover, celebrated in the doxology of Psalm 29. The Psalm describes a mighty storm, but then concludes with the dramatic affirmation that YHWH is “enthroned over the waters” (v.10). That is, YHWH has made the waters so stable in their submissiveness to YHWH that God can use the chaotic waters for the base of the divine throne. God has not vanquished them, but they are fully subdued and robbed of their threatening power.
There is no doubt that the gospel writers appeal to this tradition of God’s governance of the chaotic waters in the narrative of Jesus stilling the storm (Mark 4:35-41, Matthew 8:23-27, Luke 8:22-25). In the narrative Mark 4:37 reports on the dangerous threat of the waters:
A great wind storm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.
The disciples at sea with Jesus are terrified; they know what the storm can do; that is, they know that chaos can undo their ordered world. They have no recourse except to Jesus whom they awaken. They awaken him, for he is their only chance for safety. Jesus is at his lordly best. He simply utters a royal command to the waters:
Peace, be still (v. 39)
That is all; the wind stops, the waves are subdued. He offers no explanation. But he leaves his disciples in wonderment:
Who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him (v. 41)?
They know the answer to their question. The answer is old and established in Israel. The one who governs the waters is the creator God. In this narrative no dots are explicitly connected. But the point is mistakable. This Jesus in the boat with them is none other than the creator God who also governs the waters. Israel had long affirmed that their God “neither slumbers nor sleeps” (Psalm 121:4). But Jesus goes one better. He sleeps! He sleeps, perhaps because he is human. Or he sleeps because he has complete confidence in his mastery of chaos. Either way, the frightened disciples are made safe and secure from all alarms. Israel has always found its wellbeing in the goodness of God, and now that governance has become specific for them. The claim is further escalated in John 6:16-21 wherein Jesus walks on water, a majestic act echoed in the third verse of the “naval hymn,” thus patrolling his domain.
Dave’s solo, the wise words of our “water man,” Israel’s tradition of doxology, and the lordly power of Jesus were, altogether, on my mind as I recalled the frequent, almost daily reports of migrants who travel by boat at great risk at sea in their transport to a better land. They are often destroyed in the process of transport. Thus as I write this here is a headline for the day:
Dozens of Migrants Die after Boat Sinks in Strait of Sicily,” New York Times 8/9/2023).
It could have been any day or nearly every day. The migrants are victims of “unscrupulous smugglers” who put them at risk with dysfunctional boats. But they are also victims of the violent lands from which they flee, and victims of the lands to which they come what are characteristically unwelcoming and inhospitable. For example, Garret Hardin in “The Tragedy of the Commons,” Science 162 (1968) famously warned that the “bottom of the barrel” migrants will, if unchecked, overwhelm the luxurious “commons” of the US. The migrants might easily conclude that “Water always wins.” With the image of these migrants in boats at risk, I listened again to Dave’s solo. What if those “at peril on the sea” are not naval officers, but migrants who are ill-clad, unidentified, and without resources? Thus the naval hymn might be their prayer as well.
With the migrants in boats front and center, we might ponder again the verdict, “Water always wins”! The migrants, in their risky venture, might reach this conclusion drawn by our old water man. The cadences of faith suggest, alternatively, that water does not and cannot win when the “Eternal Father” is strong to save. But then we may tease out the quotidian reality of that faith claim:
Water does not win when the faithful people of God take steps to protect these migrants.
Water does not win if host governments become more receptive of refugees.
Water does not win if we come to regard migrants traveling in boats not as an unwelcome intrusion, but rather as neighbors in desperate need.
Water does not win if we take seriously our generic mandate to protect the defenseless from the ruthless power of chaos and extend it especially to these people.
We may take these several allusions to water as an articulation of the reality of surging chaos. When we do that, we may recognize that ours is a time of great displacement of many peoples. The reality of climate change causes many people, of necessity, to flee to higher ground. The current brutality of war and the menace of a predatory economics require people to find safety elsewhere. Consequently our time is inescapably a time of great movement of large numbers of vulnerable people who by their very existence are committed to find safe places to live. It is high time to recognize that, for all of the church’s preoccupation with individual “sin,” the reality of our time is one of chaos that is partly the product of the human enterprise, but partly the work of untamed evil among us.
When we human beings accept our proper role as managers of creation, then our work is to be alert to the threat of chaos, regardless of its cause, and to create conditions for orderly, viable wellbeing. Dave’s solo appeals to the creator God on behalf of all those “in peril on the sea.” Along with such a petition to the Eternal Father, of course, the work is to contribute to the possibility of a viable social order and the practice of social justice for all parties.
The Bible is eventually an act of hope. Among the most extreme hopes voiced in the Bible is the vision of a new heaven, a new earth, and a new Jerusalem. And then this:
The sea is no more (Revelation 21:1).
The expectation is breath-taking. The faith of Israel and of the church is the capacity to imagine a world where chaos is no more. Chaos will be overcome by the decree of the creator God, and by the tenacious, sustained work of the human community in its solidarity with all the creatures who depend upon a well-ordered creation.
*A funny aside. Long ago I did an extended gig of teaching at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago alongside my good friend, John Buchanan. Having ample free time there, one day I attended a funeral in the sanctuary of Fourth Church. The deceased, unknown to me, was a high-ranking naval officer, perhaps an admiral. At the end of the service as the casket was exiting, the organist played the postlude. It was supposed to be “Eternal Father strong to save,” fitting for a naval officer. But the organist had failed to understand the assignment Instead, what was played as “Anchors Away.” I suspect that was the only time that song was played in the sanctuary at Fourth Church.
