We
are experiencing a renewed sense of the sea’s sacramental presence, says Ed
Newell …
"Odi et amo may well
be the confession of those who consciously or blindly have surrendered their
existence to the fascination of the sea."
Joseph Conrad, The
Mirror of the Sea
~
There is something
about the sea that is both enticing and fearful, so much so that, as Joseph
Conrad (quoting the poet Catullus) observed, it can draw out the strongest
feeling of attraction and its conflicting shadow-side: odi et amo, ‘I
hate and I love’. Conrad should know. In 1874, at the age of 17, Jósef
Korzeniowski, to use Conrad’s real name, heard the sea’s call and travelled
from his native Poland to the south of France to join the crew of the Mont
Blanc. As he set sail from Marseille on a voyage to Martinique so began for
Conrad a long career at sea, during which he experienced its thrill and
exhilaration, felt its peace and tranquillity, survived terrifying storms, and
watched colleagues drown. Such tragedies failed to diminish his passion for the
sea, but they certainly removed any false illusions about its attractions. When
Conrad turned to writing he became a most astute observer of life at sea.
Conrad
also wrote, ‘The true peace of God begins at any spot a thousand miles from the
nearest land.’1 The sea plays an
important role in many religions, not least Christianity, where the ambivalence
Conrad describes is particularly apparent. The majority of biblical references
to the sea draw on its negative connotations, yet there are many accounts within
Christian literature of people feeling spiritually uplifted, or close to God,
on or by the sea. Indeed, there is a deeply
sacramental quality to the sea. ‘Sacramental’ can refer to specific religious
rites, such as baptism and communion. It can also refer to something that, to
quote F. W. Dillistone, ‘holds more of value or significance within it than at
first meets the eye.’2 It is
this latter, broader, understanding of ‘sacramental’ that suggests the sea
speaks more powerfully of the complexity of our understanding of God, and our
relationship with God, than perhaps anything else.
A key reason for the
sea’s sacramental quality is that it is widely perceived as ‘other’. Our
perception of the sea has shaped Christian thought and spirituality as well as
more ancient religious and philosophical traditions that Christianity has drawn
upon, including Platonism and Celtic nature worship.
While exploring the
influence of the sea on Christianity involves venturing into uncharted waters,
even a cursory reading of the Bible makes it clear that the sea plays an
important role in the story of salvation that runs through it as a continuous
thread. From the stories of creation, the Flood, and the crossing of the Red
Sea in the Book of Genesis, to the exploits of Jonah, the trials of Job, the
apocalyptic visions of Daniel, the miracles of Jesus, the missionary journeys
of Paul, and the vision of the new Jerusalem in the Book of Revelation, the
literal or symbolic presence of the sea is crucial. In fact, the biblical
narrative of creation, fall, redemption, and the vision of re-creation in the
end times cannot be fully explained without reference to the sea, such was its
significance in the thought-world of the 1,300 year period during which the
books of the Bible were written.
Shaping the biblical
imagery of the sea are the experiences of generations who have encountered it
in ways best described as ‘spiritual’. What was the case for ancient
civilizations has also been true throughout history and continues today.
Consequently, the ‘spirituality’ of the sea is rich and varied. Furthermore, the
sea has provided the context for an important strand of Christian asceticism
and monasticism, particularly in the Celtic rim of Western Europe, elements of
which have been resurgent in recent years through the growing interest in
Celtic Christianity.
The
sea has been used by numerous theologians and spiritual writers who have
gleaned from their own experiences images and metaphors for expressing what is
ultimately inexpressible – the nature of God. The sea has also inspired
generations of artists, poets, novelists, playwrights, musicians, and
film-makers who have found its varying moods not only fascinating but an
impulse for creativity, often with religious connotations. The sea’s mysterious
depths have fascinated psychologists, who see parallels with the human psyche
and perhaps even the soul. Those who live on the coast speak, too, of the
profound spiritual effect the sea has on them, as do those who go to sea for
work or leisure, as their lives straddle safe and familiar surroundings on land
and unknown and dangerous elemental waters. Exploring how the sea has been
interpreted within Christianity therefore requires looking closely at this
broader spiritual dimension as well.
The importance of
spirituality as a tool for theological enquiry is now widely recognised, having
long been treated with suspicion because of appearing irrational; that is,
because of its association with emotional feelings. If theology is regarded as
an intellectual, scholarly pursuit, then spirituality is seen more as
experiential. Yet it is only by examining the wide range of experiences of our
interaction with the sea (including not only the work of biblical scholars and
theologians, but sailors, travel writers, oceanographers, marine biologists,
geographers, psychologists, and psychiatrists, as well as the accounts of many
others who have recorded having religious or spiritual encounters with the sea)
that we can understand the sense of ‘otherness’ that it evokes, an evocation
which underlies the biblical texts and subsequent theological reflection.
The lure of the sea is
a fascinating area of enquiry. So, too, is the study of the social and
geo-political contexts within which the Christian story unfolds. The sea has
helped shape nations, communities, individuals, and their beliefs. Cultures are
often defined not so much by political boundaries but by those that are
natural, such as coastlines. Thus, it is possible to speak of the Mediterranean
not only as a sea but as a region where people of different countries,
languages, and religions share much in common because of the way they interact
with the water around which they live. As will be seen, this regional dimension
was especially important for the development of Christianity as it spread from
its roots in the Middle East.
From a British
perspective, being an ‘island nation’ – or more accurately an archipelago – has
many implications, some of which are shared by other such countries. For
millennia, the sea has formed a border across which invaders and missionaries
have ventured. It has provided a means of transport and communication around
the British Isles and further afield. The sea has been a natural defence
barrier from armed invasion and diseases such as rabies, a source of food, a
battlefield, and a playground. The sea helps determine indigenous wildlife,
such as the absence of snakes from Ireland, as well as shape climate, and
therefore flora and fauna. Perhaps, too, the psychological effect of the
separation by water of England, Northern Ireland, Scotland, and Wales from
mainland Europe may partly explain the outcome of the 2016 referendum on
membership of the European Union.
Britain’s place in
world history, including its role in the Christian mission, has been greatly
influenced by phases of maritime supremacy. This is apparent in one of the most
influential religious works in the English language, The Book of Common
Prayer. Archbishop Thomas Cranmer’s 1662 Prayer Book, which is a
formative text throughout the Anglican Communion (and, of course, first
disseminated across the world by sea), contains ‘Forms of Prayer to be Used at
Sea’. Significantly longer than the section on marriage, it includes daily
prayers for the navy; prayers for use during storms, before and after a battle,
and for the enemy; various thanksgivings following storms and tempest, and an
order for burial at sea. Interestingly, when the Prayer Book was due to
be revised in 1928 these prayers were left intact, while the more recent Alternative
Service Book 1980 and Common Worship of 2000 contain no modern
language equivalents.
A growing area of
academic research is the study of ‘place’: how we interpret locations, how we
interact with our surroundings, and how the resulting sense of place shapes our
personal and cultural identity. Studies crossing the boundaries of
anthropology, geography, and sociology have spawned the new discipline of
‘geosophy’, to which contributions have been made recently by theologians such
as David Brown, John Inge, and Philip Sheldrake. It has long been the case that
people have been drawn to particular locations for religious reasons, and
certainly in Britain and Ireland many sacred sites are by the sea. George
McLeod, founder of the modern Iona community, famously described the island of
Iona on the west coast of Scotland as a ‘thin place’, where the boundary
between Earth and Heaven seems porous. Others would say the same of Holy Island
(Lindisfarne) on the Northumberland coast; Bardsey Island, the supposed burial
site of ‘twenty thousand saints’ off the Llyn Peninsula of north-west Wales;
and Skellig Michael, the dramatic monastic settlement – and now UNESCO World
Heritage Site and Star Wars set – off the Dingle Peninsula of south-west
Ireland.
Living
on the edge of land and sea is a formative experience for many people across
the world. In Britain, with its 19,000 or so miles of coastline, many lives
have been shaped by the sight, sound, and smell of the sea, and its changing
temperament. A significant question for those interested in the theology of
place is how God is mediated by a particular location. There is a deep truth in
Carol Ann Duffy’s poem ‘Prayer’ that reflects on how familiar places and
experiences can have a spiritual dimension – even listening to the shipping
forecast: ‘Darkness outside. Inside, the radio’s prayer – / Rockall. Malin.
Finisterre.’ A Christian understanding of place may be expressed in many ways,
including local customs, liturgies, hymns, church dedications and decorations,
and there is much to explore here from the perspective of those who live by the
sea.
Despite Britain’s rich
maritime heritage, popular awareness of the sea has diminished considerably in
recent decades. This has much to do with the vast growth of air travel and,
more recently, the opening of the Channel Tunnel. Since the first half of the
twentieth century it has been possible to leave mainland Britain in ways other
than by sea. These, together with the downsizing of the navy, the collapse of a
once significant shipbuilding industry, the decline of fisheries, and the decreased
popularity of British seaside resorts have all contributed to a reduced
awareness of the sea that surrounds us. Perhaps Britain’s most important
maritime activity today is decidedly land-based and hidden from public view.
Through Lloyd’s of London and the Baltic Exchange, the City remains the world’s
main centre for marine insurance and the hub of international shipping. Yet
these important service industries are no longer located cheek-by-jowl with the
great centre of trade from which they emerged. The Port of London today is a
shadow of its former self, when it was at the heart of international commerce.
National awareness of
the sea in Britain has diminished significantly since the Second World War. Not
only was it widely recognised during the war that the sea provided a final
defence against invasion, but public consciousness of the dependence on sea
travel was intensified when the German navy attempted to starve Britain and
stop imports of armaments and other vital equipment. This posed a severe threat
and was an important factor behind the introduction of rationing, affecting the
daily lives of everyone. Public attention was focused on shipping and what
Winston Churchill termed ‘the Battle of the Atlantic’. In this conflict, which
Churchill said was ‘the only thing that ever frightened me’, over 5,000 allied
ships were sunk and 100,000 lives lost on both sides. It was a time of acute
awareness – both positive and negative – of being an island nation. For the
post-war generations such awareness has all but vanished, although the
grounding of aircraft across Europe in 2010 because of the spread of ash from
the Eyjafjallajökull volcano in Iceland gave a temporary reminder, when
stranded travellers returned en masse to Britain on crowded ships.
If
the sea is no longer in the forefront of our minds, it still surrounds us and
remains vitally important to our existence. Over 90 per cent of international
trade is transported at sea, and the English Channel remains one of the world’s
busiest routes for commercial shipping. Much of what we eat, wear, and use will
have travelled perhaps thousands of miles across water, on ships crewed by
sailors whose daily lives are significantly different from those of us who live
on land. Furthermore, advances in technology allow us to search beneath the sea
or sea-bed for resources and to exploit its power. As we have become more aware
of the finitude of the Earth’s resources, the sea and sea-bed have come
increasingly to our attention as we seek new sources of raw materials and
energy. We are interacting with the marine environment in new ways, as we pit
our entrepreneurial spirit, ingenuity, and insatiable appetite for economic
growth against the natural challenges the sea poses.
What is bringing the
sea back into our consciousness most of all, however, is not the opportunities
it offers, but the threats it poses and faces. The large number of fatalities
among migrants trying to cross the Mediterranean in over-crowded or unseaworthy
boats is a disturbing reminder of the dangers of being at sea, and of how the
most vulnerable people are often those most at risk. The shocking and
heart-breaking photograph of a soldier carrying the body of three year-old Alan
Kurdi, which had been washed up on a Turkish beach in September 2015 after his
family tried to flee the war in Syria, will surely be one of the defining
images of the early twenty-first century.
In contrast to horrific
pictures of human suffering, the BBC television series Blue Planet II used
stunning visual imagery to highlight the devastating impact of ocean plastic
pollution on marine life and the food chain, and has helped champion campaigns
to reduce plastic waste. While pollution poses one threat, climate change is
causing sea levels to rise, putting low-lying coastal areas and delta regions
and their populations at risk. It is hard to project accurately the likely
extent of rising sea levels in the twenty-first century. The complexity of
analysing the combined effects of the thermal expansion of seawater and the
rate of melting glaciers, ice-caps, and ice-sheets means we cannot be sure what
will happen in the long run, and much of the data and its analysis remain
controversial. What is incontrovertible, however, is that sea levels are
rising. If they rise by 83cm over the remainder of this century, as many
predict, this would be enough to cause devastation to low-lying places such as
Bangladesh and the Maldives, and put the Netherlands, and even London, in
danger. It is salutary to note that the Thames Barrier, London’s sea defence,
was closed 182 times between 1983, when it came into operation, and February
2018 – 95 times to protect against tidal flooding and 87 times to protect
against combined tidal and fluvial (river) flooding, with 50 closures in
2013-14 alone.
As
a result of climate change, the sea is beginning to re-emerge in the public
consciousness in ways akin to the biblical perceptions of threat and danger.
Startling images from around the world of flood damage, coupled with increased
awareness of the impact of rising sea levels around coastlines, are having an
impact. Not only are they rekindling a sense of awe and wonder of the waters
that presently cover over 70 per cent of the Earth’s surface and account for
over 95 per cent of its environment that can sustain life, but they are also
reminding us of the sea’s destructiveness and our inability to control its
immense power. We are living in what is termed the ‘Anthropocene’, a geological
age for which there is overwhelming scientific evidence that human activity is
having an unprecedented impact on the environment. The fact that humans are
responsible for climate change means that today’s rising sea levels call to
mind the story of the Flood and of divine judgment on humanity. An ancient myth
is re-emerging as a timeless myth, and those of us who have lost awareness of
the sea and its devastating power are becoming conscious of it in a disturbing
way, sharing with our neighbours in coastal regions and islands across the
‘Blue Planet’ a renewed sense of the sea’s presence.
This is an extract from The Sacramental Sea: A Spiritual Voyage through Christian History by Ed Newell.
Available now in paperback.
1 Joseph Conrad, The
Nigger of the Narcissus (New York: Doubleday, 1914), p. 47.
2 F.W. Dillistone, Christianity
and Symbolism, (London: Collins, 1955), p. 15.
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