Life as a Sailboat

 

 I want to discuss life as a sailboat. Honestly, it will take me a little while to get there. The reason is that the image comes from the autobiography of a philosopher. I like philosophy. I even like discovering something about their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

His stern Scottish father, James, himself a recognized philosopher/economist/historian, prepared the English philosopher/political economist John Stuart Mill for his profession. James Mill observed his son's early brilliance and determined that the boy should be educated exhaustively in literature and the arts, science, history and philosophy. He read ancient works in their original Greek and Latin. However, he declared that religious learning was unnecessary and distracting. He kept any religious instruction away from his son. His father liked Joseph Butler on religion. However, he slowly believed that a perfect and powerful God would not create a world with so much evil and suffering. He thought religion, with its music, ritual, liturgy, and devotional life, were a waste of time. John Stuart flourished in his academic studies in his teen years. He thought he had a goal to reform the world. Yet, as he wrote in his Autobiography (Chapter 5) toward the end of his life, he realized that a profound sense of lostness and longing had pervaded his heart. He referred to it as a malady of the mind and melancholy. As a United Methodist, I could resist sharing this description of his life, since he refers to his perception of Methodism.  

But the time came when I awakened from this (his contentment with his life thus far) as from a dream. It was in the autumn of 1826. I was in a dull state of nerves, such as everybody is occasionally liable to; unsusceptible to enjoyment or pleasurable excitement; one of those moods when what is pleasure at other times, becomes insipid or indifferent; the state, I should think, in which converts to Methodism usually are, when smitten by their first "conviction of sin." In this frame of mind it occurred to me to put the question directly to myself: "Suppose that all your objects in life were realized; that all the changes in institutions and opinions which you are looking forward to, could be completely effected at this very instant: would this be a great joy and happiness to you?" And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly answered, "No!" At this my heart sank within me: the whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell down. All my happiness was to have been found in the continual pursuit of this end. The end had ceased to charm, and how could there ever again be any interest in the means? I seemed to have nothing left to live for. 

He says he hoped “the cloud would pass away” on its own. He carried the cloud with him when he awoke and throughout the day. This experience went on for months. He seemed unable to shake the feeling even for a moment. The cloud became thicker and thicker. He went back to his favorite books, but received no help. As much as he loved his father, he would be the last person to whom he would turn with this type of question. He slowly realized that his life thus far, at 20, was entirely intellectual and analytical. This focus steadily eroded his feeling for people and life. In some ways, the experience represents a shift from the Enlightenment mentality that emphasized rational people in discussion and the Romantic mentality that emphasized feeling. He refers to the dejected and melancholy condition of his mind. Although his mind was crammed with information, John Stuart Mill declared his soul was "starved." Here is how he put it. 

I was thus, as I said to myself, left stranded at the commencement of my voyage, with a well-equipped ship and a rudder, but no sail; without any real desire for the ends which I had been so carefully fitted out to work for: no delight in virtue, or the general good, but also just as little in anything else. 

He recognized that he stood at the commencement of the voyage of his life. He knew his father equipped him well, to the point where he could see the beauty of the ship and the strong rudder. Yet, where was the sail? He no longer had a sense of the goal or purpose of his “ship of life.” The ship of his life looked good, but to what end and for what purpose? He did not know. He then makes a literary reference to a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Work Without Hope, February 21, 1825). 

Two lines of Coleridge, in whom alone of all writers I have found a true description of what I felt, were often in my thoughts, not at this time (for I had never read them), but in a later period of the same mental malady [Here is the whole poem, of which Mill quoted only the last two lines]:  

 All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair—

The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—

And Winter slumbering in the open air,

Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!

And I the while, the sole unbusy thing,

Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.  

         Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,

Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.

Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,

For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!

With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:

And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?

Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,

And Hope without an object cannot live. 

Coleridge was quite right, of course, that nothing would put the soul to sleep quicker than a life without hope.

All right, I am now ready to discuss the image of life as a ship in need of a sail. Thus, I invite you to reflect upon the interesting image that our lives are like a ship with a rudder that needs sails in order to catch the wind. The sailor must then know how to adjust the sails to catch the wind and go the right direction.

Even if you have a sail on a ship, does that make sailing easy?

In 1980, Christopher Cross sang a song with the title “Sailing.” The song makes sailing have a dream-like quality. 

Well it's not far down to paradise, at least's not for me

 If the wind is right you can sail away and find tranquility

 Oh the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see, believe me 

It's not far to never, never land, reason to pretend

 And if the wind is right you can find the joy of innocence again

 Oh the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see, believe me 

Sailing, takes me away

 To where I've always heard it

 Just a dream and the wind to carry me

 Soon I will be free 

Fantasy, it gets the best of me when I'm sailing

 All caught up in the reverie

 Every word is a symphony, won't you believe me? 

Sailing, takes me away

 To where I've always heard it

 Just a dream and the wind to carry me

 Soon I will be free 

It's not far back to sanity at least it's not for me

 And when the wind is right you can sail away and find serenity

 Oh the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see, believe me 

Sailing, takes me away

 To where I've always heard it

 Just a dream and the wind to carry me

 Soon I will be free 

I do not recall being in a boat with sails. I have seen them. To watch someone else makes it look like it would be the escapist dream, the ultimate get-a-way. Occasionally, it seems like it would be good to relax, put up the sail, and go wherever the wind took you.

In one of my churches, however, a physician loved to sail. It was a passion. He went to the ocean for his vacation and threw himself and his family into sailing. The pictures of him in the sailboat made it clear that he was in his element. At the same time, the family talked of how much work it was. Sailing in a way that properly catches the wind is not an easy job. Properly done, though, the ship seems to move magically across the water, propelled by an invisible and unquenchable power.

If the wind stopped blowing, sailors called it “becalmed.” When you made good time sailing, you were enjoying “Godspeed.”’

It seemed like the philosopher John Stuart Mill wanted a “Godspeed” life for which all his education had not given him. He needed something else in his life.

Well, I am preacher, so I hope you will not mind the analogy. “Spirit” in both Greek and Hebrew also has the meaning of “wind.” Our lives can be like a ship with a rudder but without a sail. We need to learn to hoist the sail, and under certain conditions, it is not easy. Sometimes, the wind is not blowing and we need to wait. Learning to hoist the sail of your life properly is our attentiveness to God. Sailing spiritually is not easy. Learning to do so is worth it.

Godspeed.

Summarizing Your Life

I found a reference in some of my sermon notes to an author and his book from Spring 2001. I have not read the book, largely because it is not on kindle. However, I am reflecting on a review and few Amazon comments with you in a way that I hope will make a helpful suggestion for our spiritual formation.

Dan Hurley has had an interesting life in writing.

He is now a freelance writer in the science field. Today, he is fascinated by the way the brain works. He says we need to get away from doing the same thing all the time. We need to vary our activities in order to keep our minds active and creative. I have come across this thought in other writings. Who knows, it may develop into a sermon sometime.

However, he gained some fame in writing when he made his living on the sidewalk. The result was something called The 60-Second Novelist: What 22,613 People Taught Me About Life. It was not just his cheerful yellow fedora, yellow silk butterfly bow tie, yellow blazer, two- tone saddle shoes and his button-down look that won Dan Hurley media notice in USA Today, Wired, Reader's Digest, Fast Company, CNN.com and on National Public Radio's Morning Edition. Mr. Hurley made his name and his fame as a sidewalk performer in Chicago. He started on Michigan Avenue. Here is how he puts it on his Amazon author page. 

I decided to take my manual Remington typewriter onto Michigan Avenue in Chicago, tape a sign to it that said, "60-Second Novels, Written While You Wait," and see what would happen. It was meant to be an absurd performance-art experiment in which I expected most people to squint at me and tell me to get a job. However, like in "The Producers," my bizarro idea turned out to be a success: a line of people formed and started handing me five dollars a pop to talk with them and then write something inspired by our conversation. Within a year I quit my job as an editor at the American Bar Association, moved to New York, and became a full-time 60-Second Novelist, earning as much as $300 a day on the sidewalks of New York. Eventually I started writing 60-Second Novels at corporate and private events around the country. Is this a great country or what?? 

While Mr. Hurley has moved on to new interests, he had an interesting point. What would happen if you could summarize the life of a person in a few words? He made other people think as well. Here is what a few Amazon reviews offered of his book and his idea. 

Everyone's life has a story to tell.

Some of the stories will make you laugh, others will make you cry, and some will make you smile or laugh aloud. The 60-second novel may inspire you to write a 60-second novel about yourself or someone you know.

It made me cry, and then it made me laugh again. Very inspiring and thought provoking. 

I want to share one 60-second novel he wrote for Clement: 

I'm Really Satisfied With the

Way I'm Living Now

Not Happy Happy

Just Content

Clement is 40 years old and living in a dumpster. "It's shelter and I don't feel bad," says Clement. "It's four walls and a ceiling and a floor. The only thing it's missing is a kitchen and a bathroom."

Clement says these last words with an impish smile. His unlined face seems younger, except for his graying beard. Clement has lived here in this dumpster, in a lot where dumpsters are stored at the corner of Bay and Court streets in Brooklyn, for a year and a half, since breaking up with his wife and discovering that he really didn't like the shelters. He's not a drug addict or an alcoholic. "The only vices I have are cigarettes and a little marijuana," he says.

Clement makes his money as a "scrapper." He finds cans, bottles, semiprecious metals - anything he can turn in for cash. He also cleans out people's basements or whatever they want. Amazingly, he earns up to $800 or $900 a month and saves it in a bank account his sister keeps for him. He's not on welfare and won't beg, he says, mostly as a matter of pride.

"I know I could do a whole lot better," Clement says. "But I'm content the way I'm living. Not happy happy. Just content." 

It does not sound like a lot, but it may well push us to ask of others and of ourselves what we are doing with our lives. Every life has dignity and purpose. Every life, regardless of how seemingly insignificant, has a place in the plan of God.

Our lives are complicated, I know. It hardly seems fair to summarize a life in such few words. Yet, I have found it helpful at times, when things become complex, to give myself some time to step back and pierce behind the complexity, for often I am the one making it complex. Simplicity often is there in complex situations, if we just let it emerge. Thus, it might even be a good spiritual exercise for us. How would you summarize your life in about 175 words?

Sixty seconds is not much time, but good stories do not have to take long to tell.

Take the story of Dorcas in Acts 9:36-43 as an example. I will let you look it up on your own. Just notice this time how Luke summarizes her life.

Pondering 3 Paintings and Painters

My first unsatisfactory grade in school came in art and music in the seventh grade from Miss Asperheim. In spite of that, I appreciate both, very much as a layperson in the respective fields. I do not pay that much attention to the biography of the painter, for example. If I appreciate the painting, that is enough for me.

However, Elizabeth Lunday, in an article entitled, “Great Christian Art by Really Lousy Christians” (http://mentalfloss.com/article/23551/great-christian-art-really-lousy-christians), wrote that if you want a heavenly picture, it is often best to hire a sinner. She gave several examples, but I will highlight three. You can easily find the paintings on the web.

           

Check out The Calling of St. Matthew by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. His paintings, which combine a realistic observation of the human state, both physical and emotional, with a dramatic use of lighting, had a formative influence on Baroque painting. He burst upon the Rome art scene in 1600 with the success of his first public commissions, the Martyrdom of Saint Matthew and Calling of Saint Matthew. Thereafter he never lacked commissions or patrons, yet he handled his success poorly. He was jailed on several occasions, vandalized his own apartment, and ultimately had a death sentence pronounced against him by the Pope after killing a young man, possibly unintentionally, after a tennis match, on May 29, 1606. An early published notice on him, dating from 1604 and describing his lifestyle three years previously. It recounts that  

"after a fortnight's work he will swagger about for a month or two with a sword at his side and a servant following him, from one ball-court to the next, ever ready to engage in a fight or an argument, so that it is most awkward to get along with him   

Please note how the apostle is in a dark and dirty Roman tavern, surrounded by lowlifes. That is because Caravaggio spent plenty of time in these pubs himself, drinking and brawling.

            Let us consider a painter most of us have at least heard of at some point. Rembrandt has a well-regarded 1633 etching The Good Samaritan. Having achieved youthful success as a portrait painter, personal tragedy and financial hardship marked Rembrandt's later years. Yet his etchings and paintings were popular throughout his lifetime. The etching of the Good Samaritan is so down to earth that it has a dog relieving itself in the foreground. Members of the Dutch Reformed Church loved Rembrandt’s realistic artwork but did not appreciate his relationships with women. He painted his wife, Saskia, as a prostitute in a tavern, sitting in the lap of one of the most well-known of Jesus’ characters, the prodigal son. After Saskia died, he became lovers with his housekeeper and then left her for another servant, causing his housekeeper to take him to court. Messy, messy, messy.

           

 

Rembrandt lost the support of church members because of his behavior and died in poverty in 1669 — but not before he painted one of his greatest works, Return of the Prodigal Son. Like the sinful son in the parable, maybe Rembrandt knew he needed forgiveness.

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there is Salvador Dali, the artist who created The Sacrament of the Last Supper. Although born to devout Catholic parents in Spain, he was an atheist who indulged every outlandish whim, including the throwing of orgies that he called “erotic masses.” Dali returned to his Catholic roots after moving to the United States, but some people questioned his sincerity. Dali may have been motivated more by money than by spirituality, bragging that postcards of his Last Supper sold more copies than all of the works of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael combined.

 

            Of course, I have no right to pass judgment on these painters. I can appreciate their paintings. Among the beauties of the Christian message, though, is that God can take a human life that has become twisted almost beyond recognition, and make it something beautiful. All we need to do is let the grace of God touch us and begin the life-long work of transformation.