The Storm
If you had to ask me what my all-time favorite piece of art would be, I would struggle to pick just one, but I would settle on John August Swanson’s “The Storm!” When I was a hospital Chaplain during the pandemic, a crude copier printout was scotch taped to the wall in my basement office. I used this art when working with grieving loved ones who had patients who died from COVID-19. I preached on it. It even inspired the last passage of scripture I read to my very last patient (who also happened to be Covid positive) in 2021. Then, it journeyed with me to seminary, where my school has a large collection of John August Swanson art decorating the halls and worship spaces. In my second year of seminary, “The Storm” was hung outside of my Systematic Theology class. I was overwhelmed with all the work of the Holy Spirit and posted a selfie of myself in front of an actual work of art and not my crude printout of one. In the caption of that post in September of 2022, I said, “Oh, how so much has not changed, but so much is so different.”
Three years later, the impact of “The Storm” still moves me even in another new state (figuratively and literally). As a devout Catholic, Swanson was inspired after hearing Pope Francis’s sermon in March of 2020 on Mark 4:35-41, in which Jesus calmed the storm. Pope Francis says,
“We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat… are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.”
The power of all being in the same boat is not lost here at Good Shepherd. Our worship space is often called a Nave, which is derived from the Latin meaning ship.
If we look at the simplicity of the nave’s meaning, we see the deep intention woven into our architecture, both figuratively and literally. On Sunday mornings, Wednesday afternoons, and many times in between, we enter this holy space not only to worship but to join together in this journey we call life. We are all travelers on this boat, and for a moment, we are called inside to join with God and our Christian community to worship the beauty and wonder, but also to lament and be refreshed with the Body and Blood of Christ.
Something is meant to happen to our bodies when we enter a space like this. Architecturally, Good Shepherd and other churches have high ceilings because they are intended to point us up to God. The acoustics allow us to “join our voices with Angels and Archangels and with all the company of heaven,” as we say in the Eucharistic Prayer before we sing the Sanctus (BCP 362). Deep intention is woven into the words we say and the way we worship because it connects us to something greater than ourselves and this current moment.
As Episcopalians, we are connected across time and geography through our Book of Common Prayer. Every Sunday across our country and worldwide, Episcopalians, locally and Anglicans globally, come together to worship with the same liturgy. The words or the spoken language may be different, but the content and intention are the same.
We are all in the same boat figuring out our common life together, hence The Book of Common Prayer. Sometimes, that is utterly uncomfortable and frustrating, and other times, it is like being on a luxury cruise, feeling the wind on your face. But each and every one of us is called to be in this holy boat. Some of us may be rowing, some may be sitting in the center of the boat, and others may be looking for the changes in the wind, but that doesn’t mean any person is less valuable and loved by God because each is uniquely made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27).
It is so easy to shout like the disciples and say, “We are perishing.” (Mark 4:38). It is more challenging amid a storm to do what Jesus tells his disciples, “Be silent! Be still!” (Mark 4:39). It may just mean that the boat is in another storm and things are getting tossed around and soaked. But the storm will calm, things will change, and it may just be a time to sit and wait. Lent is all about waiting and preparing for the Crucifixion and Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. There is both a reality to the gravity and pain of the Crucifixion, but in that very same boat is the hope of everlasting life in the Resurrection. As Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God."