January 29: At the Bottom of the Sea, Belly of the Whale, Ritz Crackers

Father Mapple rose, and in a mild voice of unassuming authority ordered the scattered people to condense. "Star board gangway, there! side away to larboard- larboard gangway to starboard! Midships! midships!"

There was a low rumbling of heavy sea-boots among the benches, and a still slighter shuffling of women's shoes, and all was quiet again, and every eye on the preacher.

He paused a little; then kneeling in the pulpit's bows, folded his large brown hands across his chest, uplifted his closed eyes, and offered a prayer so deeply devout that he seemed kneeling and praying at the bottom of the sea.

This ended, in prolonged solemn tones, like the continual tolling of a bell in a ship that is foundering at sea in a fog- in such tones he commenced reading the following hymn; but changing his manner towards the concluding stanzas, burst forth with a pealing exultation and joy-

The ribs and terrors in the whale, Arched over me a dismal gloom, While all God's sun-lit waves rolled by, And lift me deepening down to doom.

I saw the opening maw of hell, With endless pains and sorrows there; Which none but they that feel can tell- Oh, I was plunging to despair.

In black distress, I called my God, When I could scarce believe him mine, He bowed his ear to my complaints- No more the whale did me confine.

With speed he flew to my relief, As on a radiant dolphin borne; Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone The face of my Deliverer God.

My song for ever shall record That terrible, that joyful hour; I give the glory to my God, His all the mercy and the power.

Nearly all joined in singing this hymn, which swelled high above the howling of the storm. A brief pause ensued; the preacher slowly turned over the leaves of the Bible, and at last, folding his hand down upon the proper page, said: "Beloved shipmates, clinch the last verse of the first chapter of Jonah- 'And God had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.'"

It seems as though I have been running a race all day.  Haven't had time to sit and pray, like Father Mapple.  Or raise my voice in any kind of praise.  I have simply been too busy to think about God's mercy or God's wrath.

This may sound a little sacrilegious.  I am sorry about that.  However, I have been busy since the moment my alarm went off this morning, and now I'm preparing for a marathon of teaching.  Two classes.  Five-and-a-half hours.  I won't be getting done until around 9:30 this evening.  I have a feeling that I'm going to be brain dead by that time.

I feel like I'm sort of in the belly of the whale.  Lots of deadlines coming up this week.  Annual evaluation.  Poem.  Writing workshop.  Next week, it's more of the same.  I'm not very centered.  Of course, as I said a couple posts ago, I haven't made much time for prayer and meditation in my daily chaos.

I need to have a come to Jesus moment.  Maybe a few come to Jesus moments.  Soon.

Saint Marty is thankful that there are Ritz crackers in his cupboard at home, and cheese spread in the fridge.