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25 July 2021
Coracle - A Spiritual Journey
Ron Nikkel
Help me to journey beyond the familiar
and into the unknown.
Give me the faith to leave old ways
and break fresh ground with You.
Christ of the mysteries, I trust You
to be stronger than each storm within me.
I will trust in the darkness and know
that my times, even now, are in Your hand.
Tune my spirit to the music of heaven,
and somehow, make my obedience count .
(A prayer of St. Brendan)
Legend has it that St Brendan the Voyager’s sail from Ireland in a small boat made of wood and ox hide and ended up in Newfoundland. This was an amazing achievement back in the 5th century. The small boat was a typical coracle design. There was nothing noteworthy about it other than St. Brendan had no idea where he was going – nor did he care. He entrusted himself and his coracle to the Lord, confident that the tide, and wind, and ocean currents would take him to the destination of his mission. Both the destination and the mission were in God’s hands. He knew what his mission was, and he was confident that wherever the little coracle might land was the place that God would have him be.
St. Brendan’s story was first written in the ninth Century as, “The Voyage of St. Brendan the Abbot.” It is the riveting account of a man who sets sail on a voyage of discovery in a small leather coracle. Brendan had no idea where he was going and simply trusted that by waves and wind and current, God would bring him to the place and places where he was meant to be. Yet far from being fatalistic, the story of his voyage is the deeply spiritual account of a man’s journey in surrendering to the will of God and trusting God to guide and protect him from danger and disaster.
Brendan’s voyage became famous as an ideal for the Celtic monks of Ireland who dared to venture into unknown and wild places in order to spread the gospel. Setting sail in their fragile coracles was at once a courageous act of faith and a profound expression of their passion to entrust themselves completely to the Lord no matter what conditions they faced or where the journey would take them.
I have long been attracted to the spirituality of St. Brendan’s coracle. To me it has come to represent more than a simple little boat, it has become the compelling image of a lifelong journey of faith involving risk and discovery, prayer and worship, fear and calm, fierce storms, and spectacular beauty, as well as of the unknown and of learning. A coracle may be only a small boat on a big sea but for me it has become a parable of faith encountering the storms and calm, and the unknown challenges and blessings of life.
Coracle spirituality has been described as a spirituality of the “insecure.” I think there is a great deal of truth in that because in certainty and security we tend to forget that our dependence is on God and not in our own competence as God-given as it is; and on the goodness of our plan as prayerfully as it may have been conceived.
Most of my life’s work has been a prayerfully and strategically calculated response to opportunity and resources. Good things certainly came out of that, but often I acted less by faith than by factoring in things like the probability of success, projected strategic impact, mitigating circumstances. I often tend to be less a pilgrim on a journey of faith and discovery, than a pioneer on a quest to stake out my claim.
Instead of actively expecting to encounter the presence of God in the people and circumstances, in the problems and annoyances, in the detours and the roadblocks – I become laser focused on overcoming difficulty to accomplish my mission and reach the destination I am bound for.
Early Celtic Christians often referred to themselves as ‘peregrini’ – pilgrims, or people on the move. The idea of pilgrimage was integral to their lives as followers of Jesus. Their pilgrimage, while not always a physical journey, was a personal journey of deepening awareness, faith, and dependence on God. They believed that intimacy with the Lord was to be found during every aspect of their lifelong journey, involving risk and courage, solitude and companionship, struggle and fulfillment, and sometimes even the foolishness of setting sail to an unknown destination in a wee and fragile coracle.
When evening came, his disciples went down to the lake,
got into a boat, and started across the lake to Capernaum.
It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them.
The lake became rough because a strong wind was blowing.
When they had rowed about three or four miles,
they saw Jesus walking on the lake and coming near the boat,
and they were terrified.
But he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’
Then they wanted to take him into the boat,
and immediately the boat reached the land towards which they were going.
(John 6:16-21)
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