Path's of the Sea and of Life/ Billy Budd

In this episode we shall look upon the book of Psalms, chapter 8 to be precise. Also we take a look at Billy Budd by Cornell & Diehl

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:00

Good Friday morning, dear friend, and welcome to the Parson Piper Podcast. Here at Week's End we gather in the quiet with pipe in hand and scripture before us to walk the old paths again. We'll set our minds upon stories of holy writ, trace the faithful footsteps of Christ Church through the ages and consider that call to return simple, true, and steadfast. As the ember grows, we will speak a word or two of good leaf and honest blends, and the fine folk that keep the craft alive in shops near and far. So settle in now, take a breath, and let us begin. Come in close, my friend, and don't be in a hurry. This is the kind of story that does not rush to meet you. It waits like the tide, like the morning, like truth itself. Now I tell it plain the way a sailor tells things, not dressed up too fine, but steady and worth hearing. It was early, real early down along the Alabama coast, the kind of morning where the light comes slow, like it's thinking its way into the day. The air still carried the cool of the night, not sharp, just enough to wake you. And the water, the water was calm in that deep way, like it knew something, knew something that the rest of the world hadn't caught on to yet. There was a man sitting on a bench by the dock, pipe in one hand, coffee in the other, not doing much of anything, but seeing plenty. Have you ever noticed men like that? They don't speak quick, don't move fast, but they carry a kind of stillness with them, like they've already sorted through things most folk are still wrestling with. Boats rocked easy in their slips, ropes pulled gentle, then loosened again. The dock gave that old familiar creak not compliant just aging speaking. The gulls hadn't quite found their voice yet. Just a few calls here and there. Nothing loud, nothing rushed.

SPEAKER_00 3:22

And that's when I came along.

SPEAKER_01 3:26

Now I've spent enough time on the water to know. You don't break a morning like that with noise. You enter it slow. So I walked up, sat down beside him, gave a small nod, didn't say anything at first, just pulled out my pipe, struck a match. That little flame flickered once in the breeze and settled. As the smoke rose up straight and steady, like the morning itself was carrying it.

SPEAKER_00 4:09

We sat there a while, no words, but it wasn't empty.

SPEAKER_01 4:18

It was the kind of quiet that feels like it's holding something, waiting for the right moment to let it go. After a time I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, eyes out in the water, and I said You ever notice how everything out there got its lanes?

SPEAKER_00 4:42

He looked, but like most folk, he only saw water. So I gave it a moment.

SPEAKER_01 4:56

Because truth don't land if you throw it too quick. Ships keep to their channels, I said. Shrimp boats run their routes. I nodded toward the open stretch of gulf. Even the pelicans, right then one dipped low, glided just above the surface, then rose again, like it knew exactly what he was doing.

SPEAKER_00 5:24

Watch them long enough, I said, you'll see it. Ain't random. I tapped my pipe lightly. Never was. Now he turned just a little more toward me. Good sign. They follow something I said.

SPEAKER_01 5:55

Older than charts. Now that sat between us because the sea to a man who don't know it looks like chaos. Waves rolling, wind shifting, nothing still.

SPEAKER_00 6:11

No roads, no signs. Just movement. But that's that's only the top of it. Underneath order. I cleared the ash from my pipe. You don't see currents, I said.

SPEAKER_01 6:37

But they're there, strong, steady. They carry fish clear across oceans. Same paths, year after year. He leaned in then. Not much but enough. So I went on. I've been out there, I said, in fog so thick you couldn't see your own hands. No stars, no shoreline, nothing but grey.

SPEAKER_00 7:07

And you'd think you'd think you were lost.

SPEAKER_01 7:19

I shook my head, but you ain't not if you know what's beneath you. Now listen, that's not something you learn from a book. That's something that C teaches you. Slow and sometimes hard. The currents, I said, they'll carry you, guide you if you let them.

SPEAKER_00 7:50

Then I turned and looked him straight.

SPEAKER_01 7:54

But you gotta trust what you can't see. That's the line most folks stumble on, because we like to see things. We like maps, clear roads, signs telling us where we are and where we're going. But life life don't always give you that. Most mornings you wake up, step into something you don't fully understand. You don't see the whole path. Just a step or two ahead, sometimes not even that. So I told him something I learned long ago, not from men, but from something older. The birds of the air, the fish of the sea, they all move along paths.

SPEAKER_00 8:51

Paths you don't see. But they're there. Now he sat quiet, didn't interrupt.

SPEAKER_01 9:02

He didn't argue. He just listened. The sun had begun to rise more fully by then, and I'll tell you there's a moment right at the edge of morning when the light hits the water just right. And it lays out a path of gold, slight across the surface. Looks like a road you could walk. You can't, of course. But you can follow it with your eyes. And I nodded toward it. See that? That's how folks think it ought to be. A clear path laid out where you can see it. I shook my head a little, but most of the time it ain't like that. The real paths they're underneath, unseen but steady. I leaned back then, drew slow on my pipe. Life's the same way I said, looks uncertain, especially at first light. But there are paths. God set them there.

SPEAKER_00 10:18

You don't always see them, but there's there's sure as a sun is coming up.

SPEAKER_01 10:28

Now I'm not just sitting here preaching, never have. But truth. Truth always has a way of sounding like preaching when a man finally hears it. We sat there a long while after that. Didn't need more words. Boats began to stir, lines pulled tight, then eased. Engines turned over slow. The gulls found their voice. The day started moving, but underneath all that, same steady pull, same unseen roads, same quiet order. And I could tell something had settled in him, not loud, not dramatic, but real. So before I stood up to go, I said one last thing. You don't need to see the path to walk it right. Just trust the one who laid it down. I knocked the ash from my pipe, stood up, and started on my way. Didn't look back, for I didn't need to, because the sea had already said what needed saying, and if a man listens long enough, it'll say it to him too. So wherever you are this morning, whatever stretch of water you find yourself on, that feels unclear, that feels uncertain, remember this. There are paths in the sea.

SPEAKER_00 12:15

You may not see them, but they're there, and the one who made them knows exactly where they're laid, and also where they lead. Walk steady, friend, and trust the current.

SPEAKER_01 12:34

So here's how it was. A few of us were walking together one morning, the kind of slow walk where no one's in a hurry. The days just getting started. We had the coast off to one side, light coming up over the water. Everything's quiet in that way that makes you feel like the world's still thinking about waking up. And with us was the parson. Now the parson wasn't the loud type, didn't talk just to fill the air. But when he did speak, folks listened. He had a pipe in his hand, always did, and always a way of taking his time like he knew something most people forget. We stopped near an old dock, wood creaking a little, water moving slow. The parson sat down, filled his pipe, lit it, and let the smoke drift up into the cold morning air. Didn't say anything right away, just sat there. Then after a bit he looked up at us. Let me tell you about something simple but worth your time. We all leaned in a little, because when a man like that says something worth your time, you don't brush it off. There's a tobacco, he said, called Billy Bud Pipe Tobacco, made by Cornell and Dill. Now someone chuckled and said Is it any good? The parson smiled just a little. Well that depends on what you mean by good. That got our attention, he went on. It's not sweet.

SPEAKER_00 14:35

It's not easy. It doesn't try to impress you.

SPEAKER_01 14:42

When you open it, you don't get sugar or fruit or anything like that. You get smoke, earth, and something a little strong. And there's cigar leaf in it too. Now one of the men raised his brows. Cigar leaf in a pipe? Exactly, the parson said. And cigar leaf don't try to be polite.

SPEAKER_00 15:10

A few of us laughed at that because we knew what he meant.

SPEAKER_01 15:20

It just is what it is, he said. And that tells you something right away about the blend. He leaned back looking out over the water. It's not here to entertain you. It's here to have com have a conversation.

SPEAKER_00 15:40

Now that's a line that sat with all of us.

SPEAKER_01 15:50

One of the younger fellows said What's it taste like then? Parsons shook his head gently. That's the wrong question. We looked at each other. The better question he said is what it's doing. Now that slowed us down. He went on. When you light it, you get that smoky latachia, steady, not too heavy. The burly gives it body, keeps it grounded. And that cigar leaf, you don't miss it.

SPEAKER_00 16:30

Doesn't shout. But it stays with you. If you rush it, it won't treat you kindly.

SPEAKER_01 16:46

But if you slow down, if you give it time, it settles. The flavor comes flavors come together, the smoke cools off, and after a while he smiled just a little. You're trying.

SPEAKER_00 17:03

You stop trying to figure it out. And you sit there and let it be what it is.

SPEAKER_01 17:13

None of us spoke for a moment. The water moved slow beside us. The gull passed overhead.

SPEAKER_00 17:26

Then someone said, So what makes it worth it?

SPEAKER_01 17:32

The parson looked back at us. Because it teaches you something. What's that? Another asked. He said that it not everything good is quick. That not everything true is sweet, and sometimes he looked out at the water again. You've got to slow down enough to hear what's actually there. Now that landed. One of the older men noddly nodded slowly. Sounds like life, he said.

SPEAKER_00 18:14

The parson gave a small nod back.

SPEAKER_01 18:25

That's exactly right. We stood there a while longer after that. No rush, no need to fill the silence. The sun had come up more fully by then, light stretching across the water like a path you could follow with your eyes. And it was it reminded me of something, something about paths and you can't always see it first. Nobody said much after that, didn't need to. After the parson knocked the ash from his pipe, he stood up and started walking again. We followed. And I reckon each of us carried a little of that with us. That maybe the best things aren't the ones that try to please you right away. But the ones that make you slow down, pay attention and stay a while.

SPEAKER_00 19:27

And that's the Parsons tale.

SPEAKER_01 19:34

Walk easy, friend. And don't be in too much of a hurry to understand everything all at once. And so, dear friend, our time draws gently to its close. The fire burns low, the pipe grows quiet, and the words we've shared linger just a while longer in the air. May the truths of scripture walk beside thee in the days ahead, and may thy heart be drawn ever back to the ancient path, simple, faithful, and sure. We meet together here each week on Friday mornings. So I bid thee return again, where the story of church and quiet reflection await thee once more. Until then, keep thy pipe well tended, thy mind set on good things, and thy soul steadfast. This is the Parson Piper Podcast. Grace and peace be with thee until we meet again.