Tahiti

Tahiti

Thursday, December 17, 2015

(It is a week before Christmas.  This morning, I am sitting in one of the most beautiful bays I’ve ever visited.  It is Maho Bay, part of the US Virgin Islands National Park, on the north side of St. John.  The sun is casting its early light over a hillside and onto the water.   We are still in its shadow.  The water is calm and reassuring.  From the cockpit of our boat, I see several volcanic rocks near and in the distance, all further to the west.  Some small enough to be called cays; others large enough to be called islands.   Looking back toward the eastward rising sun’s light, I see the sandy beach, palm trees, and a few huts/cottages. We are not in a harbor where there would be a seaside port and village/city; but in a bay.  A beautiful, calm glorious setting.  Last night, I told Marney that I had reached Tahiti.)

...

I graduated from college with a major in psychology and a minor in philosophy.  I was not going to ever be a philosopher, but I was indeed drawn to the foundational ideas that shape life’s existence.  I kept for many years the Introduction to Philosophy text book that introduced the five basic philosophical arguments.  The one most compelling to me was the freedom-determinism discussion.  Is life shaped by pre-determined patterns and we are therefore not responsible for what happens?  Is life shaped by a total freedom, irrespective of where we are, who we engage, what we do…and we are totally responsible for our actions and consequences?

The freedom-determinism discussion was further explored during my theological studies.  From the Old Testament’s story of creation to Calvinist and modern theologies:  Did God create the world in such a way that we are mere marionettes on strings being lifted and twisted by this Holy Puppeteer?  Did God create the world with certain restrictions to our living, and then set us free, the Holy One who sits back watching this “grand experiment”?  I loved exploring these ideas.  I loved the balancing act that happens when we think we’ve no power to change our lives or we’ve lost the ability to recognize the limitations to our lives.  And I’ve watched the language of theology and the church has changed -- until now, in our liturgies, we name ourselves “co-creators” with God.  It is an idea that recognizes the power we have and the limitations that God imposed in the creation.  (Think about gravity: we humans will not likely evolve so we fly with our skinny arms, but we have developed the ability to fly, with the help of our machines.)

The question on this week before Christmas:   What about our dreams and visions?  Are they only ours?  Have our dreams been pre-determined?   Or, are we co-creators with God?  For me, the answer is “absolutely yes” to the idea that God influences our dreaming and visions.

This aging man and the sea had his sailing dream born in the frozen cornfields of Iowa.  It was 1975.  We had finished our basic seminary training and accepted a call to serve as Associate Pastors of the First Presbyterian Church in Cedar Falls, Iowa.  That summer, we bought an old farmhouse where the small farm had been subdivided into smaller lots for homes, but the original brick and wood farmhouse remained (circa 1900, I think), and that was our first home.  It was the windows that set the context.  They were old and wood-framed and had a set of screens for the summer and storm windows for the winter.   By October that year, the storm windows were up.   In February, the winter winds were blowing so hard that we noticed the curtains were moving ever so slightly in the kitchen.  Winds coming around the edges of the storm windows AND the basic house window.  Winds blowing so hard that the temperature, at one point, reached 60 degrees below zero - outside.  We re-centered our life that winter to the eastern part of the house, huddled around the furnace vents.  The farmer’s master bedroom on the first floor had been turned into a study, and that’s were we wrapped ourselves in sweaters.

I had to do something.  I was in a bookstore when I saw what I needed:  the Sunset Travel Book of the South Pacific Islands (1966, Mary B. Smith).  These were very popular in their day, filled with lots of black and white photos, and some introductory stories intended to entice you.  Well, they did.  The sunny Florida, warm Southern California, and Acapulco, Mexico travel books didn’t catch my eye.  It was the South Pacific, and in particular, Tahiti.  Tahiti, the French protectorate, the home to great artists (Gauguin, for example), great beauty, great joy…. and no minus 60 degrees! I pulled out the magazine’s centerfold photo of Papeete, hung it on my office door at the church, and told everyone that’s where I was going to build my church.  A smart-alec member of the youth group retorted, “I don’t see no rock!” The seed was planted, thank you Sunset Travel (you can obtain a used copy of this gem on Amazon for $5.90 plus shipping)! 

And the seed grew.  I started reading James Michener and his post World War II Tales of the South Pacific.  I dreamed of visiting there.  I dreamed of staying there.  I didn’t want to leave my institutional commitments (marriage, call, ministry), but wanted to BE THERE.  I dreamed of flying there and then I started dreaming of sailing a boat there.  There were limitations of course:  I didn’t have a boat.  I didn’t have the courage to re-frame my call, leave my church commitments.  I didn’t have the persuasiveness to convince my sensible, well-grounded wife to join me in this dreaming. Why there?  Maybe it was the false notion that in the South Pacific Islands one can live with few responsibilities, spontaneously and happily, even though I’ve never read a story that came anywhere close to recording such a life as actually happening. 

So, the dream shifted to sailing, being on the water, seeing life from the water, finding those anchorages in the bays and harbors that call forth the rich beauty of God’s creation in ways I wanted (dare I say needed) to know.  And over the years, we’ve taken our training, rented charter boats mostly in the Caribbean, sailed on our own and with brave friends foolish enough to join us.  We’ve owned several boats and have taken a few of them on modest trips, likening them to dipping the big toe into the water to test it all.   Two years ago, I thought I was ready to leave this personal dream and sold the last boat and tried to tell my mind to settle around the wonderful world of northern New Mexico.  But it didn’t last, even though I know that Santa Fe and Taos are the home places in our hearts.

God and I have been re-shaping and co-creating the personal dream of this institutionalized, low-risk human who has this calling to be near the water, understand more about life at the shoreline, and enjoy both the accomplishment of keeping a floating home in shape, and appreciating the God-given beauty of the water and islands and life there. 

And last night, it all came home.  I saw Tahiti as I sat in the cockpit of our boat.  I sensed a peace and fulfillment and excitement and energy that I think I’ve been waiting for, ever since formally retiring from my vocational work.  I accept the re-shaping of the dream.  I may never literally visit the south seas in person and certainly not by sailboat…but every time I’m in a quiet anchorage, peacefully bobbing on the waters, looking upon the beauty of such a place,…

…I’ll be seeing Tahiti.

Dave