1. The Sea and Salvation
When we tell people what we are working on – that is, what the Bible says about the sea – it often elicits the same reaction: ‘The people of the Bible didn’t like the sea, did they? They were afraid of it.’ It is true that there are indeed some passages in the Bible that portray the sea as terrible and threatening, but this is only one facet of a much more diverse picture, hence this book. In particular, at the very beginning of the Bible (Genesis 1.10) God gathers the waters and calls them seas, and ‘God saw that it was good’. He then (Genesis 1.21) populates the ocean with creatures and again sees that it was good. Our conviction, as expressed in this book, is that the sea is a good part of God’s creation and what the Bible says about it has relevance to us today.
Interestingly, in the Gospel accounts we find that a large part of Jesus’ ministry, especially the early part, was centred on the Sea of Galilee and surrounding districts (as in Mark 1–8). Additionally, at least one post-resurrection encounter between Jesus and his disciples is described as occurring by the Sea of Galilee (John 21.1−14). It is also well known that several of the disciples chosen by Jesus to follow him were fishermen, who were henceforth called to fish for people (Matthew 4.18−22). So it is apparent that Jesus was familiar with the sea and the creatures in it as part of his daily life, a fact that is often overlooked or unacknowledged and which this book seeks to re-emphasize.
We begin by looking in this chapter at one of the major themes in the Bible − salvation − and how that is linked to stories of the sea. Being alone and vulnerable on the wide sea can create a sense of mortality and dependence on God that is seldom replicated elsewhere. In some cases, this can even provoke a total re-prioritization and change of life. However, in the Bible, salvation at sea also often marks a new beginning, as we shall see.
The sea and salvation
If you were asked to name stories from the Bible involving the sea, the chances are that the top five to come to mind would be Noah’s Flood (which, strictly speaking, is not really about the sea), the crossing of the Red Sea during the Exodus, Jonah and the ‘big fish’, and Jesus’ miracles of stilling the storm and of walking on water. The first thing to note is that, in all of these stories, the main protagonists voluntarily take to the sea. For Noah, the Ark was the only safe place to be in the oncoming Deluge (Genesis 6—9), and it became an early symbol of the Church − a safe haven, holding God’s chosen people and protecting them from the chaotic world outside. Jonah somehow imagined he could escape God’s call by being shipped to the other end of the known world. Of course, he could not − but he certainly did not dismiss the idea of taking to the sea, and viewed it as a way of escape (Jonah 1—2). Amazingly, the Israelites fleeing Egypt headed straight for the Red Sea (Exodus 14), only to experience the key act of salvation that formed them as God’s people and which became a fundamental aspect of their national story and religious identity. It is the event that remained at the heart of their faith and hopes for the future. For Jesus and his disciples, the Sea of Galilee was a constant scene of their activity, and crossing the lake by boat (or on foot!) was an easier, and more obvious, way to travel than walking round the shore (Mark 4.35−41, 6.45−52 and parallels in other Gospels).
Nonetheless, this is not to say that the sea is always a safe place to be in these stories: salvation from the sea is a common theme throughout these accounts. In the case of the story of the Flood, strictly speaking (and actually quite importantly), although the waters covered the earth and hence were quite sea-like, the sea is not mentioned. Water poured out through the windows of heaven (as rain) and the fountains of the deep were opened so that water welled up from beneath (like rivers and streams). In other words, its causes were like those of other floods experienced in the ancient world − excess rain and overcharged rivers − but now on an unimaginable scale. What is made clear is that the Flood was a divinely instigated event, prompted by the wickedness of humanity, or the corruption of ‘all flesh’:
5The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. 6And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. 7So the Lord said, ‘I will blot out from the earth the human beings I have created − people together with animals and creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made them.’ (Genesis 6.5−7)
11Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence. 12And God saw that the earth was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted its ways upon the earth. 13And God said to Noah, ‘I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence because of them; now I am going to destroy them along with the earth.’ (Genesis 6.11−13)
The Ark, however, was the means of saving the chosen few −righteous Noah and his family − together with representatives of all non-aquatic species, in order that it might cradle life through the Flood and provide a basis for a new beginning.
The saving of a chosen people (though now more numerous) is also the basis of the Exodus story, as also is the idea of a new beginning. This is the moment when the people cross out of Egypt, escape their Egyptian masters for good, and are forged together under God as his people, and he as their God. The sea is obedient to God − being piled up or dried (depending on the version you read) in order to let the people pass through, and then overwhelming the Egyptian enemy (Exodus 14.13−31).
In the case of Jonah, this is a story of the wouldn’t-be prophet being saved from himself, in order that the Ninevites might be saved. The book of Jonah is full of parody and surprise, constantly reversing stereotypes: the Israelite prophet, who does not understand or respond to God, is sent to warn the inhabitants of a wicked foreign city to expect divine judgement for their sins, and finds (contrary to his expectations, and perhaps ours too) that they, unlike him, respond with faith. He knows God is concerned for Nineveh, but somehow imagines that he can flee from him by leaving Israelite soil. He confesses to the mariners that he worships ‘the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land’ − and is apparently unaware of the irony of this, whereas their much more perceptive response is to ask fearfully, ‘What is this that you have done?’ He had expected to be safe from God’s call on board ship, and indeed he even slept through the storm till the captain woke him, despite the fact that everyone else was crying out to their gods. However, when he is cast into the water, when we imagine all will be lost, that is when salvation comes, in the form of the ‘big fish’. Of course, it not only saves Jonah from drowning, but miraculously transports him back to dry land.
The theme of salvation is very clear in respect of the stilling of the storm (Mark 4.35−41). Here, the people crying out for help are the core group who will form another new start for humanity − not the few chosen ones surviving the Deluge (as in the case of Noah and his family), nor the chosen people of Israel (as with the Red Sea crossing), but Jesus’ disciples. These were the people who would be the foundation for the Church and a new era of God’s engagement with a differently constituted people (Acts 1—2). In the story of Jesus walking on water (Mark 6.45−52), the ability to stride across the waves is the feature we tend to latch on to, but actually the setting is a stormy sea, and the disciples’ fear is associated with their peril, not simply their awe and alarm at Jesus’ appearance. Again, he stills the storm.
In each case, then, salvation occurs at sea. However, at the same time something important happens at sea or on the sea, and a new beginning is made. Noah was saved not from the sea, of course, but from destruction and the eradication of most of creation as a result of human sin. The outcome was a fresh start for creation and a new relationship with God. At the Red Sea, the water was an instrument of God’s judgement again, as the waves destroyed a hostile army led by Pharaoh, who had caused suffering to the chosen people and attempted to thwart God’s purposes. This enabled a new beginning, the transition from slavery to freedom as the people of Israel journeyed to the Promised Land. For Jonah, in the sea he lost his sense of self-determination and independence from God, and learnt about the scope of divine power, and about obedience. When he emerged from the fish, he accepted his call and went to Nineveh to deliver the message with which he had been commissioned. The disciples understood on the sea that God alone could control the wind and waves: it was a moment, then, that revealed Jesus’ identity and that addressed their lack of faith. In each case, a ‘sea-change’ is effected.
However, the story of danger and new beginnings through water (if not the sea) is not only confined to the Bible. It came to be expressed in due course on an individual basis through baptism: the believer is understood to pass through the waters of death, dying to sin and being born again to new life in Christ (Romans 6.1−4). Here salvation is spiritual (though ultimately physical at the resurrection), and thus is distinct from the judgement enacted against corruption on the earth through the floodwaters of the Deluge, or from the destruction of evil powers at the Red Sea, or from the stilling of physical waves at the Sea of Galilee.
It is a marked feature of modern life that we are reluctant to pass moral judgement, to talk about sin or to think of being saved from evil, and we tend to find the idea of judgement problematic. However, if we return to the biblical references to the sea, these help us to understand that the objects of our fear or the problems that we need to address are not confined to ‘sin’ in a purely theological sense, nor are they always embodied in other people, or indeed in ourselves − though they often are found here, at least in part. The sea in the passages we have looked at represents life-threatening danger, but not necessarily moral danger. Rather, the stories concern fear followed by salvation f...