Absolution at Sea

SINCE we live in a time of decreasing faith, we find it difficult to imagine when faith was strong. In Saint Anthony’s time, unlike our own, people had little control over life. Remedies for disease and pestilence were ineffective. They had no advance warning of natural disasters, and the frequent wars among the powerful impacted multitudes.

However, most of the population was at least nominally Christian. People clung to Jesus’ words, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28). Because of Jesus’ sacrifice on Calvary, heaven was now closed only to sinners and unbelievers. Medieval Christians strove to avoid being either.

Let’s imagine how the crew coped when a violent storm on the Mediterranean Sea overtook a ship on which Saint Anthony was sailing.

Helplessness

In the eerie light of a cloud-shrouded moon, the sure-footed, stocky Simão picked his way across the storm-tossed ship. Gripping ropes which the crew had strung the length and width of the deck, he was looking for the captain. There, ahead, was a tall, indistinct shape whose long black hair was whipping in the gale.

“Captain, your cabin, please.”

Menendo nodded. In the rain pelted, pitching cabin, Simão steadied himself against a wall.

“Captain, you know we have passed Ceuta, Wahrān, Algiers and Tunis. We are approaching Sicily, but the storm is still too strong to dock or to turn the ship to navigate through the Sicilian Strait. The storm is pushing us straight ahead toward Girgenti. Unless the wind dies down, we’re going to run aground.”

“How long?”

“Before the sun is full up, Captain.”

Menendo pressed his long, thin fingers to his temples. “This storm. How long has it been raging? We’ve done everything; even the priest prayed!”

“It’s all in God’s hands now, Captain,” Simão retorted. “May I ask Father António to bless and absolve the men?”

“You think it will come to that?”

“It might, Captain.”

“Then gather the men. In here. I will take Duarte’s place at the helm.”

“But, Captain. You…”

Menendo waved his hand. “Remember when this demon storm began? You asked if the priest might pray for us.” Simão remembered.

“When I asked him, he did more than pray. He absolved me. Gather the men.”

Simão bowed and left. After recruiting three deck hands to direct the crew to the captain’s cabin, Simão descended the ladder into the cargo hold. With Brother Felipe sitting next to him, Father António sat in his usual spot, back propped against a lemon bin, his head bowed.

Simão knelt. “Excuse me, Father. The situation is dangerous. The captain has agreed to have you absolve the crew.”

Father’s face was weary and wan, his voice strong. “I will do that.”

With Brother Felipe supporting the priest from behind, Simão tugged Father António up the ladder, then guided both men along the ropes to the captain’s cabin. Crammed into the cabin, the crew reeked of sweat, fish, and mildewed cloth. The odor of the holy men’s damp woolen tunics mingled in. As Father António raised his hand, the crew’s nervous chatter faded.

General absolution

“The captain has asked me to absolve you,” António explained. “Since there is no time to hear your confessions, I shall absolve you all at once.” The men murmured. What a strange idea!

“Consider your sins, how you have offended God, other people, yourselves. Resolve to avoid these sins.” António bowed his head. “Lord, help these men remember their sins. Help them repent.” Then, except for the thrashing of wind and sea, silence.  

My sins. Simão considered his impatience, his controlling nature, his judgment of others, and his reluctance to bring God’s message to those who never thought of it. Help me to overcome my sins. By Your grace, Lord.

Moments passed. Then Father António’s voice rang above the howling of the storm. “Lord, we lift our sins to you. We are sorry. Have mercy on us.” Gazing at the men, he instructed, “When I absolve you, my brothers, those who are sincerely repentant will receive the absolution. However, as soon as possible, you must seek a priest to confess to individually and receive a particular penance. Will you resolve to do this, my brothers?” Assent was swift. Complete.

Smiling, Father António bowed his head. “Repeat after me, my brothers. In the name of the Father…” The men signed themselves with the Sign of the Cross.

“My Lord.”

“My Lord,” the men repeated.

“I cannot place the treasure of a sinless life…”

The men echoed, “I cannot place the treasure of a sinless life…”

“… on the scales of Your judgment.”

Pausing for the men’s repetition, the priest continued, line by line, a prayer of contrition.

“Do not impute this debt to me, o good God. Indeed, according to Your just judgments, Lord, I deserve to be condemned. And deprived of my life. Since I did not safeguard the treasure of my heart and my life, which you have entrusted to my care. For this, my God, I am sorry, and I promise to make restitution in charity for my sins. Amen.”

“Amen,” the men breathed.

“I absolve you from your sins and I bless you. In the name of the Father…” The men signed themselves again with the Sign of the Cross.

“Go in God’s peace, my brothers. Take courage. Whatever happens, trust that God is with you.”

Land ahead!

Reverently the men walked out into the storm. Simão grappled with his pounding heart. If he died, his sins were forgiven. The priest had assured him of, if not heaven, at least Purgatory. Thank You, Lord.

Within hours, when the gray skies were lightening, Simão heard the lookout cry out. “Land ahead!”

The ship was racing forward. The crew rushed to the deck, clinging to the ropes. Someone tied the weak António to a mast. Brother Felipe clung to the ropes. Land was upon them. The hull scraped bottom, the ship lurched to a halt and listed to the starboard side. Almost simultaneously, the wind died.

“Abandon ship!” Menendo’s rugged order echoed through an incredible stillness. The men leaped into the choppy waves and swam to shore. Lemons and limes washed in with the tide. Simão and Menendo counted the men twice.

“Navigator, thank God. We’re all here.”  

Simão pointed to an inland rock on which sat Father António, Duarte kneeling beside him. With Brother Felipe among them, the crew clustered a distance away on the beach. 

“Confessing and receiving their penances, Captain.”

“Stay with the crew, Navigator. I need to get home to do my penance. I’ll walk inland, see what I find.”

Meditation

A monstrous gale blew Anthony’s ship 1,000 miles off course to Sicily where it ran aground at an unknown location. Historical sources say nothing about the crew, but Anthony’s Sermon Notes contain his prayer of contrition which he prayed in this story.

When you’re afraid, do you consider that God has ultimate power over your situation? Can you recall times where you relied on your ideas rather than consulting God? Might that be something to confess?