Homily

Recently I heard a talk that a bishop gave to some of the students of the U.S. Naval Academy, and cleverly enough, he spoke about 3 men from the Bible and their experience on the sea. The bishop reminded the students that for the Hebrews, the sea was viewed as a powerful and dangerous place to be, and no doubt this is why the Israelites never had a navy. It was dangerous to travel by land, but it was thought to be many more times as dangerous to travel on the Mediterranean, because one never knew when a storm or a wind could overcome the ship and there might be no way to escape drowning. The bishop mentioned that St. Augustine was terrified of sailing between Africa and Italy, and many boats on the Mediterranean tried to stay within sight of the shore so that they would not get too far away from land. And, of course, there are plenty of ships at the bottom of that sea that anyone could use to prove their point about the hazards of sailing. Often in the Old Testament the sea is portrayed as a place of danger and chaos and unforeseen disasters that were waiting to take the lives of men.

And, in certain ways this reminded me of the time of pandemic that we have been experiencing this past year. Unknown waters that are potentially very dangerous. People uncertain as to what they should or should not do. Many lives taken by this sea of virus, many lives disrupted and changed, many people wondering what will come next and will we ever get back to shore safely again? The pandemic has also become a place of danger and chaos and unforeseen disaster.

We read in Genesis chapter 6: “When the LORD saw how great the wickedness of human beings was on earth, and how every desire that their heart conceived was always nothing but evil, the LORD regretted making human beings on the earth, and his heart was grieved. So the LORD said: I will wipe out from the earth the human beings I have created, and not only the human beings, but also the animals and the crawling things and the birds of the air, for I regret that I made them. But Noah found favor with the LORD.”

Now, I am not suggesting the Lord has sent us an epidemic to punish us, but I want to talk about Noah. He did as the Lord told him. He built an ark and covered it with pitch inside and out. He brought in his family and two of all the animals of the earth, male and female, and he did not even have to ask those creatures how they identified or what their pronouns were. He knew the male from the female. Noah and his family got into the ark and the storm raged for 40 days and 40 nights and water covered the earth. And the waters swelled up for 150 days and the Lord decided to reverse the waters and it took another 150 days for the waters to go down again, and as we know, Noah and his family and all those creatures came out safely to populate the earth once again. They were saved from the dangerous waters by the great mercy of God.

Well, we have been at sea in rough waters with this virus for about 300 days just like Noah and his family, but haven’t quite arrived at dry land yet. But here comes the Great and Holy Fast. We are still in the ark. And I think that how we are sailing in it, how we are traveling in it is very important. Unlike Noah we didn’t see the flood coming. We didn’t see the danger that lay ahead. But here we are. So how should we sail this Lent?

I think one good aspect of this pandemic is the reminder that we do not have complete control over our lives as we are often tempted to think. It also shows us we cannot predict the future despite what the headlines may be telling us day after day – and so often proven to be wrong. We either place ourselves in the hands of God, or we don’t. Noah simply did what the Lord told him without counting the cost or wondering why God was doing this. He just put himself into the hands of the Lord and accepted His word. Even when the entire world that he knew outside the ark vanished from his sight, he did not question God, nor did he rebel in protest. He simply sailed his way through the waters of destruction and the Lord brought him and his family safely back home.

We are always sailing through dangerous waters, but perhaps the past 300 days or so have made us more aware of how true this is. But how shall we sail through? Hopefully not in the same old way we always have, but using this Lent we can turn our minds, our hearts and lives over to the Lord in a better way than we have before. This is true repentance: to recognize we have sinned, to ask for pardon and to struggle to live better according to our calling in Christ Jesus. And to always remember that our final destination is not in this world but in the life that is to come where there is no pain, sorrow, nor mourning.

I suggest that we see ourselves on the ark this Lent. Unlike Noah, we don’t have to worry about changing the litter box for two cats, (who probably didn’t get along with each other.) The waters are dangerous and unpredictable, not just because of a virus but even more so because of a nation that increasingly turns its back on God, constantly looking for ways to degrade and abuse the lives of men and women and children. The waters are dangerous and they bring chaos to our society. But we can clearly rise above all this through repentance and continued conversion, because our true safety will never be found in a vaccine or an act of congress, or some great discovery of science. It will only be found if we stay in the ark, which is the Church, and follow the Lord’s commandments, and by prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

Lent is a time for this kind of sailing, for this kind of change and renewal, for this kind of travel from days of confession to the heavenly glory that we see reflected in our celebration of Pascha.

Here’s a quote from St. Augustine who hated sailing, but was willing to sail when he need to do so: