A Wave Named Joe

Sermon: Sunday, November 10, 1996

A pillar of our church, Pat McLucas, died a few days before I was to deliver this sermon. I had been wrestling with the general images of the sermon for weeks, since our summer vacation at the beach. Pat’s death, however, struck a deep chord in all of us, and served as a catalyst for the images of the beach.

When I was young, I often went to the beach with my family. My days were filled with activity -- fishing, swimming, games, other kids. These days, when I go the beach, while I still do some of that, I do a lot more sitting. I can sit there for long stretches of time, watching the ocean, and listening. Just listening.

The ocean has told me a story. I’d like to share it with you.

There once appeared in the ocean a wave named Joe. Like many waves, when he became conscious of himself, he looked out across the surface of the ocean, saw a bunch of other waves like himself, and decided he, too, was a wave.

Joe began to think about himself as a wave. He decided he was a disappointingly average wave. Not really big enough to suit his tastes.

He noticed a wave, not too far away, getting steadily bigger. He asked him how he did it. The other wave answered, “if you suck some of the water out of the waves next to you, you can get bigger.” Joe thought that sounded like a good idea, so he tried it. It worked, and he started to get bigger. Naturally, the waves around him got a bit smaller. Some even ceased to exist. No matter, Joe thought, at least I’m getting bigger.

Despite his increased size, he did not feel much better. Something was missing. Just then he noticed that the wave next to him, a wave named Robert, was saying something.

“Did you know, Joe, that you are part of an immensely vast, beautiful thing called Ocean?” asked Robert. “That you are filled with Ocean, that you -- and every wave you’ve ever met -- are one with the Ocean?”

Joe looked at him as though he were crazy. “Robert, I’m a wave. A very practical wave, at that. As I look around, it’s plain to see that it’s each wave for itself. If there is an Ocean, it certainly doesn’t affect my wavishness.”

As he was contemplating the foolishness Robert had said, he noticed a thin, white line way off in the distance in the direction he was heading. He was quite disturbed at what he saw -- lots of waves, one after another, seemed to be crashing against the white line -- and then, just, disappearing.

“Hey Robert,” called Joe. “What the heck is that white line up ahead?”

“Shore,” answered Robert. “We will all meet the Shore one day.”

“What happens then?” Joe asked. “It looks from here as though the waves that hit the Shore disappear. Maybe the waves that disappear go to that Ocean you were talking about.”

“No,” answered Robert. “You are Ocean before you hit the Shore, and you are Ocean after you hit the Shore. One very great wave once said, ‘the kingdom of Ocean is in your midst.’ He meant now, not just after you hit the Shore.”

“I don’t know, Robert,” said Joe. “This doesn’t look like Ocean to me. Just a bunch of waves, like me.”

Joe looked at the Shore intently. Wave after waved crashed against it, only to disappear from view. “I sure don’t like the looks of that Shore,” he said.

A little way ahead of Joe, closer to the Shore than he, was a wave he had gotten to know named Pat. He liked Pat a lot. She seemed very kind, and a little quiet. A lot of the waves seemed to like to spend time with her, telling her about their fears, and especially their worries about the Shore.

“Hey Robert,” Joe called. “What’s the deal with Pat? She seems so calm about this Shore thing. Why isn’t she worried? She’s getting pretty close to it.”

“Pat’s a very special wave, Joe,” Robert responded. “She understands that she’s a child of the Ocean. She trusts that she will always be of the Ocean. She knows that, even after she hits the shore, she’ll still be Ocean. Her understanding of that explains why so many waves want to talk to her.”

Joe still was puzzled. “I don’t get it. How does she know she’s Ocean? How does she even know there is an Ocean?”

“Most of the waves around here have heard of a great wave known to some as the Son of Ocean,” Robert responded. “He figured out that He was Ocean a long time ago. He felt such compassion for the other waves, who didn’t know they were filled with Ocean, that He spent his time as a wave telling other waves about the Ocean. Pat heard the Word of Ocean, and it made a lot of sense to her. Just like it makes a lot of sense to me.”

Joe watched with growing concern as Pat got ever closer to the shore.

His concern turned to grief as he watched the foam start to appear at the top of Pat’s wave.

“Robert,” Joe whispered. “Pat’s going to hit the Shore any second now. We’ve got to do something.”

“Joe,” Robert said calmly. “We are all going to hit the shore. All of us. But watch. Watch Pat carefully.”

Joe watched. Without showing more than just a trace of fear, Pat became consumed with sea foam. She was beautiful, luminescent. Even glorious.

And then she hit the Shore. The other waves gasped at the sight. They watched as she spread across the sand, glassy, peaceful, beautiful. Then she slipped back into the Ocean.

Joe was silent for a minute or so. “Robert,” he said tentatively. “I’m going to miss her.”

“I know, Joe. Me, too,” answered Robert. “Just remember, she hasn’t gone anywhere. She was always Ocean. She still is Ocean. She reminds us that the Son of Ocean is still Ocean, even though he hit the shore years ago.

“And she reminds us that we will always be Ocean.”