Not too long ago, I read a book by author Daniel Kraus called Whalefall, published in 2023. The New York Times calls Whalefall “A crazy, and crazily enjoyable, beat-the-clock adventure story about fathers, sons, guilt, and the mysteries of the seas.”
As a former scuba diver, I loved the book because diving and underwater scenes are a big part of the story, and it brought back some great memories. I’ll probably read it again, savoring the underwater imagery and the various family relationships.
(Once upon a time, my kids would say about a TV program or a movie, “You’ll love this, Mom – it’s about religion.” Then they moved on to, “You’ll love this, Mom – it’s about relationships.” They’d probably still say that today!)
In any event, the story of Whalefall takes place just south of Monterey, and as I read, I kept googling all the places mentioned and the geographical claims the book made, and I found they’re all completely accurate. I had no idea that there’s an underwater canyon twelve miles offshore between Carmel and Point Lobos that’s ninety-five miles long and over a mile deep, about the size of the Grand Canyon – and this underwater canyon is part of a greater canyon system that reaches depths of almost 12,000 feet. You gotta know some interesting stuff lives down there!
Needless to say, the underwater canyon plays a part in the book, as does how much air the “beat-the-clock” character has left in his tank. On a recreational dive, which is defined as being less than 100’ in depth, a diver goes into the water with 3000 psi, pounds per square inch, just like tires, of oxygen in their tank. They head gradually for the surface at no less than 500 psi, not ascending any faster than their bubbles, and they should be back on the boat with 300 psi left after a 3 minute safety stop at 15’.
As I said, I loved the book. I literally couldn’t put it down. I sent a copy to my longtime dive buddy back in Florida, but her reaction was the same as my former mother-in-law’s reaction to hearing me preach for the first time: “Well. That was interesting.” Eh – so I guess my dive buddy’s not into relationships!
The reason that I’ve spent this time talking about Whalefall is that once the “beat-the-clock” diver, whose name is Jay, gets into the predicament that shapes the book, a recurring theme is, “Everything you need you brought with you.” Everything you need you brought with you.
Everything you need you brought with you in terms of experience; in terms of old lessons long-forgotten; in terms of confidence; in terms of what you can make do with. You already have everything you need to help you survive, even if you don’t know it. Now, hold onto this assurance for a bit.
There is a link between Whalefall and this morning’s reading from Luke, the healing and restoration of a woman crippled and bent over for 18 years, but I need to lay some groundwork for the link. Last Sunday, Rev. Carole’s sermon highlighted that Gospel reading’s focus on the cost of discipleship, on the price we may be called upon to pay as disciples of Jesus – the disruption and division we may face in all of our own most intimate relationships, as well as our social relationships and connections.
Today’s Gospel passage begins a new section in Luke, within the greater context of Jesus “having set his face towards Jerusalem,” but last week’s tension is still present. What we hear about today is Jesus’ third and final healing in a synagogue on the sabbath, and the leader of the synagogue’s angry reaction to that healing is a foretaste of the hostility to come in Jerusalem. As is characteristic of Jesus’ healings, the one who is healed, woman or man, is restored not only to health, but also to wholeness, to personal dignity, and to acceptance back into their community.
As one commentator says, “The proof of the woman’s restoration is immediate. She is able to stand straight, and she praises God – the only proper response to God’s redemptive power.” (NIB 273)
In light of this comment, how apt is today’s psalm: “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless God’s holy Name!”
Being crippled, possibly by arthritis or osteoporosis, the woman would have been marginalized in her world, unable to perform the most basic of household tasks and responsibilities; an object of scorn, literally unable to even look anyone in the face. In her healing in the synagogue on the sabbath, in her being unbound after 18 long years, one author says, in words we may well need to hear today, “Jesus teaches that concern over the suffering of fellow human beings takes precedence over obligations related to keeping the sabbath.” (NIB, 273)
Concern over the suffering of fellow human beings takes precedence over the phrasing of the commandments delivered from God to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Concern over the suffering of fellow human beings takes precedence through Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant. Concern over the suffering of fellow human beings takes precedence over anything school boards might want to place on the walls of their classrooms, because Jesus is the Lord of the Sabbath.
We already have everything we need. Hold onto that.
I don’t know if this description of ministry originated with Fr. Bill or if it predates him, but reading this morning’s passage from Isaiah totally resonates with St. Matthias’ own mission directive, “Let us go forth in the name of Christ, doing the loving thing.” “If you remove the yolk from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry, and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.” Do the loving thing, even when the forces of the world turn against you. Even when the forces of the world increase the suffering of our fellow human beings. Do the loving thing.
This is part of what we need.
As I mentioned a moment ago, today’s reading from Luke is the start of a new section in his Gospel, a new section in Jesus’ final journey to Jerusalem. The previous section, which includes the beginning of this final journey, has been filled with instruction; filled with Jesus teaching us, and giving us, everything we need.
Six weeks ago, we heard the story of the Good Samaritan. At the conclusion of the story, the injured man’s neighbor is correctly identified as “the one who showed him mercy,” the one who treated him compassionately; and Jesus tells his listeners to “Go and do likewise”; so first among what we need is DO: do have, and do act, with compassion. Do the loving thing.
The following week, our reading was about Mary and Martha of Bethany, and this story provides a balance for the instruction to do. Live a life of active compassion, of doing the loving thing, but balance that doing with sitting, with spending time simply be-ing in the presence of God, open and attentive and listening. Our first strength is DO; our second strength is SIT.
After this, Jesus’ disciples asked him to teach them how to pray, and Jesus responded with what we know today as the Lord’s Prayer. Our third strength is prayer, and as a fellow clergyperson once pointed out, the disciples made this request, “teach us to pray,” because they wanted what Jesus had – they wanted that same intimacy with God that they saw in Jesus…and so as a way into this intimacy, he taught them this prayer.
Far more than rote words, Jesus’ prayer is actually a leap of radical trust. To pray the Lord’s Prayer is to put ourselves voluntarily, to put ourselves of our own choosing, into God’s hands, acknowledging our complete dependence on God alone, not only for our salvation, but also for our daily existence and wellbeing.
DO act with compassion; SIT attentively in the presence of God; and PRAY to have a deep and abiding trust in God. Three things we need. Three strengths we have.
The following week our Gospel passage focused on greed, as we heard Jesus tell the parable of the Rich Fool, the farmer whose crop is so huge that he builds new barns to store it and keep it all for himself, only to be told by God that his life will be required of him that very night and all his grain will be stuck in probate for years, and no one will get it. “One’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions,” says Jesus to those who listen.
Now, admittedly, this is a very counter-cultural message, because the world argued for the defining importance of material wealth in Jesus’ day and the world continues to argue for the defining importance of material wealth now.
And yet, the life of faith is not defined by what we have, even when we have a lot; the life of faith is a life shaped by God, not by things and impulses and feelings. As Scottish evangelical Oswald Chambers wrote in the early 1900’s, “There is only one Being Who can satisfy the last aching abyss of the human heart, and that is the Lord Jesus Christ.” (in My Utmost for His Highest)
This being said, our fourth strength is letting go of our fear of letting go. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to stand empty handed before God, because at that moment of complete vulnerability, the “last aching abyss” of our heart will be satisfied; and we will find our true identity, our new life, our real life; our life with God in Christ. So don’t be afraid.
Two weeks ago, that’s exactly how our Gospel passage began: “Don’t be afraid.” I once heard someone say that “Fear not” or “Don’t be afraid” appears in Scripture 365 times, this person’s theory being that God knew we’d need to hear it every day. So – “Don’t be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom….For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” One author writes, “What Jesus enjoins [here]…is an orientation toward the whole of life as abundant gift from a generous God – a gift that can, therefore, be given away with abandon.” (F, L, H, 337)
“Stay alert,” says Jesus, “for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Stay alert to our surroundings, we claim as our next strength, open to where the Spirit of a generous God will lead us.
As I mentioned, last week’s reading from Luke was a warning of the potentially apocalyptic upheaval that his presence can trigger. As another commentator says, “Although the kingdom of God is characterized by reconciliation and peace, the announcement of that kingdom is always divisive because it requires decision and commitment.” (NIB, L, 266)
Decision and commitment. Because Jesus took the initiative in healing the unnamed woman in today’s Gospel, because he called her forward without any request or action on her part, her healing has been called “an act of radical grace.” (Craddock, 384)
An embrace of God’s radical grace is the final strength we claim today, the final strength we recognize as we make the decision to commit; the decision to commit to God, and to work for the coming of God’s kingdom. Like Jay the diver in Whalefall, we are bringing what we already have to the serious work of life in Christ:
DO act with compassion.
SIT attentively in God’s presence.
PRAY to have a deep and abiding trust in God.
DON’T be afraid.
STAY ALERT to our surroundings, open to where the Spirit of a generous God will lead us.
EMBRACE the radical grace of God.
And come to the surface when you’re down to 500 psi.
Amen.