It was one of those perfect days. Our little boat skimmed along tucked safely inside the shadow of the overhanging wild crabapple trees and hemlocks. We were sitting lower in the water our hold crammed with the day’s catch and our wake was deep and furrowed. And then it happened. The glassy surface in front of us exploded into a cloud of spray and mist as a humpback whale hurled its mass through the barrier between our worlds. It was there, skin like tire rubber, all glistening and wet, and then it was gone. I think it winked.
By the time we managed to stop our boat the event was yards behind us, and we bobbed slack jawed trying to absorb what we had seen and thanking God and our lucky stars that the whale hadn’t decided to introduce himself a few seconds later – an introduction that would no doubt have left our boat in smithereens.
I’ll never forget that moment the proximity to something so electric and alive and powerful. I’ve seen a lot of whales growing up on the coast. I’ve even seen many up close, and even breaching. But, I’ve never seen a breach so close or when I was on a collision course with it.
Fishermen, sailors, and boat operators of all types have lived for centuries in close proximity with these behemoths of the deep. It isn’t uncommon to watch a cluster of boats fishing for hours with one or two whales bobbing in and out between them with intermittent puffs of mist announcing their presence. Whales have always seemed keenly aware of the boats around them and navigate the shared fishing ground as though in an intricate dance with shadows above. As such, I imagine that the day the whale splashed down in front of our oncoming vessel it knew full well where we were – almost as if it wanted to surprise and dazzle us. Perhaps, looking at the placid face of the deep, the whale felt the horizon needed a literal splash of excitement. There was something playful about the encounter.
The ancients loved to play with images of “the Deep” as an apt metaphor for death, the afterlife, the presence of God and all that lies beyond the reach of human understanding. The depth of the sea was fertile territory full of rich imagery and symbolism for the mystery inherent in the Divine. Certainly in my own life I have felt more conscious of the holy at those moments when I sat, cradled in the hull of a boat, suspended on the surface of the waves over and atop seemingly endless expanses of water.
I don’t suspect everyone takes to the ocean in the same way, but I would be willing to wager that many of us can attest to the sense that God is most fully known in the unknowing, in the secret places of nature and in the mysterious depths of the human psyche. And, every once in a while the Divine presence comes crashing through the thin barriers that separate us and for a moment, in a burst of noise and motion and with a smile and a wink we come face to face with the holy. I pray for those moments, to come face to face with the God of the deep, that I would come to know God just as I am known. As the psalmist writes, I “was not hidden from you, while I was being made in secret and woven in the depths…”