First Reading: Matthew 8.18-27

Now when Jesus saw great crowds around him, he gave orders to go over to the other side. A scribe then approached and said, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go." And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." Another of his disciples said to him, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus said to him, "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead."

And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. A windstorm arose on the sea, so great that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him up, saying, "Lord, save us! We are perishing!" And he said to them, "Why are you afraid, you of little faith?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, "What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?"
 

Second Reading – The men who went on the Endurance Antarctica expedition, in the early 1900's, had watched their ship become stuck in the ice and then crushed and sunk. Then they took their tents on to the pack ice…until the ice started to crack and split and melt.

…a curious motion was detected in the pack: the swell of the ocean beneath them, while the floe bumped under them. One of the men became seasick...Still the pack held, too loose to cross on foot, too close to sail, and still it drifted north…Some intangible feeling of uneasiness made me leave my tent about 11 p.m. that night and glance around the quiet camp," Shackleton wrote. "I started to walk across the floes in order to warn the watchman to look carefully for cracks, and as I was passing the men’s tent the floe lifted on the crest of a swell and cracked right under my feet." As Shackleton watched, the crack ran beneath the sailors’ tent and emptied How and Holness, who was still in his sleeping bag, into the water. How struggled out, and Shackleton, grasping Holness’s bag, hove it onto the ice before the edges of the floe clamped together again…

At 1:30 p.m., the boats pushed off. "Our first day in the water was one of the coldest and most dangerous of the expedition," wrote Bakewell. "The ice was running riot. It was a hard race to keep our boats in the open leads…[W]e had many narrow escapes from being crushed when the larger masses of the pack would come together."

The men had been trapped in the ice for fifteen months. But their real ordeal had just begun…For two hours the men rowed against the heavy swell through a tortuous network of channels and leads, then through the "survival ice." Amid towering icebergs of fantastic shapes, the boats nosed their way closer and closer towards the edge of the ice. But when they finally broke triumphantly through it, they were hit head-on by a high sea unbuffered by the pack. By four in the afternoon, the wind had increased to a gale that blew surging waves into the boats, compounding the men’s misery. "We were getting soaked on an average every three or four minutes," wrote Worsly. "This went on day and night. The cold was intense..."

The boats were only ten miles from land, the harsh glaciers and icy mountains of Elephant Island now discernable in fine detail. At this point, the men encountered a strong tidal current that held the boats at bay. After a solid hour of rowing at the pitch of their strength, they were not so much as a mile closer to the island…

Shivering together in each other’s arms, some of the men tried to snatch minutes of sleep; many preferred to row or fend off the chunks of ice that sped their way – anything to keep their cold arms moving. "Occasionally from an almost clear sky came snow-showers," wrote Shackleton, "falling silently on the sea and laying a thin shroud of white over our bodies and our boats." When a foggy dawn at last put an end to the night, the crew discovered that the boats were sheathed in ice, inside and out. The temperature in the night had dropped to -7° . As the ice was hacked off with axes, lumps were distributed for the men to eat.

The Stancomb Wills was knee-deep in water, and Holness, one of the trawlerhands who previously made his living braving the icy North Atlantic, covered his face and wept with sheer terror and misery. "At least half of the party were insane," according to Wild, "fortunately not violent, simply helpless and hopeless…" After seventy-two hours at the helm, Blackborow reported that "there was something wrong" with his feet. Continual immersion in salt water had caused the eruption of painful boils on many men; their bodies were badly chafed, and their mouths throbbed with thirst…

Later, some of the crew noticed that Worsley himself did not seem to hear them anymore, that his head was sinking on his chest. When at last he was persuaded to surrender the helm, he was so stiff from hunching over the tiller that he could not unbend, and his rigid muscles had to be massaged before he could lie straight on the bottom of the boat: He had not slept for more than ninety hours. "It was," wrote Shackleton, "a stern night." Shackleton himself had not slept since leaving Patience Camp. "Two days and nights without drink or hot food had played havoc with most of the men." His own throat and tongue were so swollen he could only whisper…

The men were soaked to the bone and frostbitten. They were badly chafed by wet clothes that had not been removed for seven months, and afflicted with saltwater boils. Their wet feet and legs were a sickly white color and swollen. Their hands were black – with grime, blubber, burns from the Primus and frostbite. The least movement was excruciating. "We sat still as much as possible," wrote Worsley. "If we moved a quarter of an inch one way or the other we felt cold, wet garments on our flanks and sides. Sitting very still for a while, life was worth living." Hot meals afforded the only relief. Shackleton ensured that the men had hot food every four hours during the day and scalding powdered milk every four hours of the long night watches. "Two of the party at least were very close to death," Worsley wrote. "Indeed, it might be said that Shackleton kept a finger on each man’s pulse. Whenever he noticed that a man seemed extra cold and shivered, he would immediately order another hot drink of milk to be prepared and served to all. He never let the man know that it was on his account, lest he become nervous about himself."
 
 

You have to ask yourself, "Why would people, even adventurous, brave, people, voluntarily submit themselves to the extreme dangers of the Antarctic? What is the attraction of a barren landscape with subzero temperatures? And at the turn of the last century there was no way to communicate with the outside world; there was almost no chance of rescue, should things go wrong.

There is a practical answer: Shackleton and his guys were explorers. They wanted the fame, the money, the excitement and the scientific advancement of surviving and surveying a harsh climate. They wanted to discover what was still unknown in the world.

Annie Dillard, the modern writer, describes a more spiritual and subliminal motive.

Lao Tzu describes the Tao, the reality that underlies all reality, as being summed up in the two words "walk on." The journey of the ship, The Endurance, led by Sir Ernest Shackleton, is as good a description as I have ever read of what that means. The ship and its crew set sail, left solid ground, on December 5, from South Georgia Island in the Antarctic. It was to be their last contact with the world for 17 months. Their goal was to explore the Antarctic shelf from the Weddell Sea and to cross the Antarctic continent. This was something that had never been done. After only 2 days at sea, they entered pack ice. On January 18 they were only one week away from their destination, Vahset Bay. They had planned to be gone from this part of the world in the southern hemisphere by the time winter came, in April. But winter came early that year. And on January 18, only weeks after their departure, their ship was locked solid in pack ice. They could get no closer to their intended destination. And with only a few months’ worth of supplies they would have to "walk on" for almost two years.

It is the sort of story where you think that the really bad news has already been received. Until you get the next news. Which is much worse. And that happened over and over again to the men on that ship. The conditions on the ship, the Endurance, were spartan. Twenty three men living in close quarters. A monotonous diet. Hard beds. No central heating. Someone could play the banjo, and they did sing together at night. But getting their ship frozen in pack ice was just the beginning. Pack ice doesn’t stay frozen; it melts and refreezes and one piece of ice smashes into other plates of ice with tremendous force. The men lived on that ship all winter – but when the southern hemisphere began to thaw in the October spring the pack ice crushed and sank their ship, and sent it to the bottom of the ocean. They saw the inevitable coming and were able to take off of the ship life boats, food, supplies and tents, and the banjo. Eventually they had to kill and eat their sled dogs, as well as every penguin and seal that came within reach.

Their feelings of dismay and sorrow were intense as they watched their ship go under the ice. Now they were camping in
-10° , in tents with walls so thin that cigarette smoke blew through them. And they didn’t have down sleeping bags. They had frozen reindeer skin sleeping bags, which shed hair into their food. Camping on an ice floe, on a large, flat iceberg, is like camping on a floating island. The currents carry you wherever the currents are going. In this case, straight north at a pretty good clip. And, happily, north was the direction they needed to go in. But as they went north, the ice started to break up. Which is where we find our brave explorers in the second reading.

At this juncture they have been living in tents on an icy floating island for seven months. Then it was into the boats for a near-death voyage that lasted a week. Then on to Elephant Island – a barren, gravelly, storm-driven, God-forsaken, uninhabited island, but the first land the crew had set foot on in 497 days. They could not live for long on such as island. So eight days later six of the men departed in a 21-foot open boat to cross 800 miles of open ocean in the midst of sub-zero temperatures, blizzards, ocean storms, 60-foot waves and finally a hurricane, to reach South Georgia Island. Lots of letter were written that began, "If I do not survive…" A short description of that sea cruize:

After having survived 17 months of impossible conditions, the lives of the entire expedition hung on the ability of three men to hike 36 hours over unexplored mountains, glaciers and icy ridges. The three hikers looked up at one mountain crag that had five jagged rocky fingers pushing up. Four possible passes. They tortuously climbed up to the first, only to face a straight down 1500-foot drop. They went to the second – no way. The third – impossible. It was getting dark when they approached the fourth, and it appeared to be their best chance. Then they came to a steep snowy slope, ending at the bottom in mist and fog. They formed a human sled, wrapping their legs around the man in front, and pushed off. Remarkably, miraculously, as they plummeted down the snow bank, all three men were yelling with excitement. They were enjoying the ride! As their descent slowed, they were extremely happy to come to a gentle slope in the fog, and to find themselves coming to a stop in a snow bank. They got up and "walked on." They hiked without sleep for 36 hours, and finally arrived at the whaling station, six hours ahead of a blizzard that would have killed not only the three men, but all the other 20 men who had stayed behind relying on these three to send out rescue parties.

To summarize their 17-month journey: The men of the Endurance had to depend on ocean currents, grace, fierce determination, bad equipment, and superb leadership. Some of the crew were despondent, aggravating, quarrelsome and egotistical. Some of the crew were as centered and as solid as rocks. All of the men made mistakes of judgement. What made Shackleton’s watchful and sensitive leadership so extraordinary (as to keep 23 men alive in unbearably harsh conditions), was "his adamant conviction that ordinary individuals were capable of heroic feats if circumstances required. The weak and the strong could and must survive together."

And when the dangerous voyage was over, life still wasn’t easy. The officers were given passage back to England, but the crew had to make their own way. When Shackleton returned to England, he discovered the importance of "bad timing." There was a war going on, WWI – and the only heroes were war heroes. When the ship’s cook finally reached England’s green and blessed shores, he found that his parents had cashed in his life insurance and his girlfriend had married another man.

This is a true story, not a romantic novel with lots of happy and tidy endings.

I have always been fascinated when people tell me that they have found a safe harbor – religious, political or material. These are the people who understand the life of the spirit as an event that has already happened. They are "born again." They go toward rituals and observances that are predictable, comforting and reassuring: communion, or fasting, or a pilgrimage to Mecca or to Lourdes. Whatever the ritual, or the prayer, the believer has found a place of refuge and peace, a nest of security, a sort of safe haven, where they can say "Olly-Olly-Ox-In-Free." They seem to sincerely believe that certain rituals or experiences or creedal beliefs mean that they are no longer in danger.

But Jesus never described the holy life that way. He said, "Even simple animals have more security and safety than I enjoy. Knowing that, I want you to follow me. Forget the comfort and the thousands of years of ritual and tradition of burying the dead – follow me. Leave what is familiar and reassuring. Follow me. I’m going on a small boat ride, and a big storm is coming."

You have to admire the disciples who had the courage to follow Jesus into that little boat. And while he had been candid with them that it wasn’t going to be easy to follow him, he didn’t reveal that, just when things looked life-threatening, he would be taking a nap! Think about it. The waves are swamping the boat, the wind is howling, the sky is dark, and Jesus slept. Not Jesus wept. Jesus slept. I hope that you deeply identify with the disciples, who are in a panic. They are genuinely convinced that they are going to perish – their number is up. And where is their fearless leader? Asleep!

So they woke him up. And in what could have been the first religious message directly intended for skeptics and Unitarian Universalists for all generations, Jesus answers with a question. "Why are you afraid?" A question, and an observation. "O ye of little faith." And with that he calms the sea. We are not told whether he went back to sleep.

The disciples, in the face of danger, had completely forgotten who was with them. They were always amazed, even on Easter morning, that their companion had the power to make things right.

Nowhere in the accounts of the expedition of the Endurance are Shackleton and his men described as "religious." But after the rescue, when Shackleton finally talked to the two men who had made that terrifying passage across the unexplored mountainous island, all three men admitted to feeling that they were in the presence of a higher power. Shackleton wrote:

But I believe that our own chances for survival are enhanced if we can remember what it is that allows the human spirit to endure. Taking some lessons from Shackleton, I would suggest you only pack what is essential for a long, and sometimes difficult voyage.

First. Determination: You will "walk on" just as long as you can, no matter how harsh the circumstances.

Second. Hot Milk: Know when to administer care and small comforts. Be watchful and know when your traveling companions need a little support and encouragement. Sometimes our survival depends on the small stuff – the little human kindnesses that we can give to one another.

Third. Bring the Banjo: The men of the Endurance left behind on the sinking ship, books and scientific equipment – they brought the banjo. Sometimes it was only the music that kept up their spirits. Is it a coincidence? In all the journals that were kept by the men of the Endurance, every one of them noted the beauty of their surroundings. Even when they thought they were breathing their last, they described the magnificence of the sunrise, the awesome grandeur of the glaciers and the sea.

Fourth. And the last quality that I believe will endure for all time is the capacity to appreciate, to be grateful for, the goodness that can show up in any life, at any time. Of all the impressive images in Shacketon’s 17 months of peril, the one that I want to remember is that of three starving, frozen, weary men shouting with exuberance as they headed down a steep slope of snow, with absolutely no idea where they are going to land. They could have just as easily been on their way off a 500-foot cliff, as into a soft pile of snow. They didn’t know. And neither do we know what the day will bring us. But if you’re here, you’ve signed up for an adventure. There are no guarantees. But human history tells us that if you follow what you have found to be most true, most trustworthy, and most loving, at the end you will have no regrets. And with grace and enormous effort you will find your way home.

Walk on.