Christmas During Life’s Storms

Rembrandt, “Christ in the Storm in the Lake on Galilee”

Spiritual Sunday – Christmas

The Guardian alerted me to a Kiplingesque poem by Robert Louis Stevenson about “Christmas at Sea.” As the ship struggles to avoid foundering, one of the sailors finds himself thinking back to the Christmases of his youth. There’s even a possibility that he’s literally looking at the home of his parents from the ship’s deck.

Whether he’s actually seeing it or just dreaming of it, the poem captures the way that Christmas is bound up with childhood memories of home. We grow up and leave this home, at first unthinking because our eyes are necessarily focused on the future. The memories can buoy us up, however, when we find ourselves beset by life’s storms.

I am reminded of Robinson Crusoe since, every time Crusoe encounters a storm, he wishes he had never left home. In Crusoe’s case, however, he shrugs off the memories as soon as he is out of danger. Stevenson’s sailor, by contrast, cannot regain Crusoe’s equanimity. Even after the situation stabilizes, he thinks of his aging parents.. As The Guardian article observes, “Now he is really leaving home.”

Christmas at Sea

By Robert Louis Stevenson

The sheets were frozen hard, and they cut the naked hand;
The decks were like a slide, where a seaman scarce could stand;
The wind was a nor’wester, blowing squally off the sea;
And cliffs and spouting breakers were the only things a-lee.

They heard the surf a-roaring before the break of day;
But ’twas only with the peep of light we saw how ill we lay.
We tumbled every hand on deck instanter, with a shout,
And we gave her the maintops’l, and stood by to go about.

All day we tacked and tacked between the South Head and the North;
All day we hauled the frozen sheets, and got no further forth;
All day as cold as charity, in bitter pain and dread,
For very life and nature we tacked from head to head.

We gave the South a wider berth, for there the tide race roared;
But every tack we made we brought the North Head close aboard:
So’s we saw the cliffs and houses, and the breakers running high,
And the coastguard in his garden, with his glass against his eye.

The frost was on the village roofs as white as ocean foam;
The good red fires were burning bright in every ‘long-shore home;
The windows sparkled clear, and the chimneys volleyed out;
And I vow we sniffed the victuals as the vessel went about.

The bells upon the church were rung with a mighty jovial cheer;
For it’s just that I should tell you how (of all days in the year)
This day of our adversity was blessèd Christmas morn,
And the house above the coastguard’s was the house where I was born.

O well I saw the pleasant room, the pleasant faces there,
My mother’s silver spectacles, my father’s silver hair;
And well I saw the firelight, like a flight of homely elves,
Go dancing round the china plates that stand upon the shelves.

And well I knew the talk they had, the talk that was of me,
Of the shadow on the household and the son that went to sea;
And O the wicked fool I seemed, in every kind of way,
To be here and hauling frozen ropes on blessèd Christmas Day.

They lit the high sea-light, and the dark began to fall.
‘All hands to loose top gallant sails,’ I heard the captain call.
‘By the Lord, she’ll never stand it,’ our first mate, Jackson, cried.
… ‘It’s the one way or the other, Mr. Jackson,’ he replied.

She staggered to her bearings, but the sails were new and good,
And the ship smelt up to windward just as though she understood.
As the winter’s day was ending, in the entry of the night,
We cleared the weary headland, and passed below the light.

And they heaved a mighty breath, every soul on board but me,
As they saw her nose again pointing handsome out to sea;
But all that I could think of, in the darkness and the cold,
Was just that I was leaving home and my folks were growing old.

I hope you are able to spend this Christmas with loved ones. If not, let them know you are thinking of them. Merry Christmas.

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