The Blessing of the Fleet
April 9, 2000
An annual ritual takes place
in many coastal regions of the United States at the approach of
the coming navigational season designed to ask Divine providence
for good weather and safe boating conditions.
The
words are as varied as the origin of the tradition but basically,
the clergy bless each vessel while all pray:
"May
the Lord fill our sails with fair wind, support our hulls in inviting
seas, guide our hands upon the tiller toward pleasant places and
bring us home, O Lord, to a safe and loving harbor."
When
did it begin, this blessing of the fleet -- this calling upon
the Almighty as guard against a treacherous, unpredictable foe?
Locally, nearby McIntosh County celebrates their 32nd annual event
amid fanfare to rival a Fourth of July festival while a fleet
of gaily festooned shrimp boats crowd the waters.
The
blessings take place before cheering spectators lining the parade
route and leaning over the rails of the vessels. There's a full
weekend celebration of song, dance, bicycle races, worship services
and art exhibits all sponsored by local businesses to honor the
community's largest industry, commercial fishing.
While
the blessing seems like a little local event adopted from an old
Mediterranean custom, it's much more universally practiced than
local tradition makes it appear. The timing is probably dictated
by the catch of the season for fisherman or the unloading of freight
elsewhere. Here, we do it the first weekend in April; in Provincetown,
Mass. it's on the Fourth of July. Here, the shrimp boats are blessed,
there, tall ships will slide in for the blessing between lobster
boats. In Conneaut, Ohio, a Lake Erie town, the Great Lakes Fleet
is prayed over and ore boats are blessed.
The
communities that grew around the harbors of the Great Lakes have
a more somber reason to come together in prayers petitioning protection
for their fleet. In recent history, the large iron ore freighter
Edmond Fitzgerald, immortalized in song by Gordon Lightfoot, went
down with everyone aboard.
The
blessing is the symbolic gesture of sending the ship and sailors
out to sea all pure and wholesome, ready to face whatever comes
their way with strength and fortitude, confident God is with them
as they face their endeavors. It's not too different from a Baptism
... or the Christening of a newly launched vessel.
Superstitious?
Well, if it is, then it's among fishermen that signs of luck,
good and bad, will flourish. The younger sailors will say, "if
you're lucky, you're lucky." The older ones veer from bad luck
on their boat by spinning around on shore before climbing aboard.
I've been told that the best time to catch fish is on a Friday
morning three days after a full moon.
No
fisherman worth his salt will wash his hands with soap before
going to sea. That would wash his luck away. These seemingly insignificant
superstitions vary from beach to beach and some even seem to have
been picked up on shore leave.
For
example, a fisherman should not whistle on board. I heard this
from Clyde, a sailor of a certain age who'd been to sea long enough
to know. "Why?" I asked him. "Why couldn't you whistle when the
sea is calm, the moon is full and you're just leaning against
the rail taking it all in?" I didn't have to wait long for his
answer. "The fish don't like it," he said with such firmness I
had no reason to doubt his claim.
That
sign of bad luck probably followed him out of a theatrical dressing
room. And, if he happens to have shirt, pants or underwear inside
out, he better leave them that way of his luck will change. Baseball
players have been known not to change underwear during the whole
seven games of a series. Were more fish caught that day for the
fisherman; did the baseball player hit the winning run? It doesn't
matter. The superstitions live on.
If
the sea smells rank no sailor would say a word if he knows what's
good for him The sea is his mother and no one talks against his
mother -- or, the back of the hand to you. A seaman looks for
the first person he sees the day he's going out. If he runs into
a hard-working person, he smiles. His catch will be great. If
he spots a lazy lout, he's wasting his time casting his nets.
And,
always, there is an intimate relationship with these waters. Men
of the sea court her favor, learn the ropes, plan ahead, play
to the moon and the tides and yet remain at the mercy of this
unpredictable siren calling them for profit, passion or pleasure.
The sea is the workplace, the driving force of their lives as
well as their playground. The sailors manning these ships live
by a code never written down, and, if they're captain, they go
down with their ship because, well, it's in the code.
As
for when the blessing began, I can only surmise. Wives and sweethearts
always waited in the harbor for the return of the fleet -- often
finding some of their men or ships lost at sea. Perhaps it started
as a mumbling of "next time we should pray for them before they
set sail."
Men
have also always challenged the forces of the universe. For one
reason or another, they haven't always called upon God. And, men
have always gone to war. And, they, too haven't always called
upon the Almighty. When something is big, really big, and the
chances of our fate is left to the elements, we either scream,
whisper -- or, in the case of the festivals -- publicly ask for
God's blessing.
Rumor
has it there are no atheists in foxholes. And, at sea, when you're
out there with more wind than the sails can handle and more water
than the boat can carry, when you cry out for help and you don't
see any, you darn well want to believe somebody's listening. You'll
be glad you called before the lines went down. At least that's
the rumor, and with most rumors, if you hear it often enough you
know it has to be true.
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