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Dear Covenant Friends,
Thanks to my friend Lindsay, I have learned a lot about whales in the last several years. My husband and I sometimes even plan travel along their migration routes—usually combined with good hiking trails.
Recently we encountered a pod of pilot whales in Cheticamp Harbor, Nova Scotia. Our little boat sat close to the water, and several playful whales swam by almost close enough to touch.
Pilot whales live in remarkably stable, close-knit matrilineal pods of 20 to 100 individuals. They travel together, hunt together, protect one another, and even rest one hemisphere of their brains at a time so they can keep breathing and watching for danger.
And yet, despite all their navigational and social gifts, entire pods of pilot whales sometimes become stranded on shore. Scientists don't know exactly why. Navigational confusion, underwater noise, predators, and illness may all play a role. But one theory is particularly poignant: their bonds are so strong that an entire pod may follow a sick or disoriented leader into shallow water.
Last Sunday I preached about moorings—the practices and relationships that hold us steady through the rising and falling tides of life. Scripture, prayer, worship, baptism and communion; friendships, communities, and acts of service: these ordinary means of grace help keep us tethered to God and to one another.
But perhaps the whales offer another piece of wisdom.
We need one another desperately. We were created for community, not isolation. But being connected isn't quite the same thing as being oriented. Sometimes the whole pod can lose its way.
Perhaps that is why our deepest mooring cannot finally be to a person, an institution, a political party, a church, or even to the people we love most. We are moored together to God. And because we are, we can help one another discern when the water is getting shallow, when fear is driving us, when we have lost our bearings—and when it is time to turn again toward deeper water.
Last Sunday I closed the sermon with a prayer attributed to St. Brendan the Navigator (484-577 A.D.), the Irish monk, sailor, explorer, and patron saint of mariners, sailors, travelers, elderly adventurers, portaging canoes—and, wonderfully, of whales! Whether or not Brendan actually wrote these words, they express something of the faith I hope will keep all of us oriented on the journey:
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 for You.
AMEN
Pastor Jessie
pastor@covenantweb.org
August 13, 2026
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