The seven-day Christian Edition 30th Anniversary Cruise commenced with a day at sea. Each morning during the week of the cruise, there were morning worships featuring praise music by Deanne Knipschild, a special music, and a message by Karl Haffner. I especially enjoyed Haffner's messages on grace, both from the standpoint of content and from the way he delivered it. My favorite special music of the week was by CE bass Leonard Fletcher, who bravely kept strumming on his guitar as technical issues crashed down around him.On Monday morning after worship, a number of us took a tour of the ship's galleys. This was rather impressive, as a cruise ship galley is no small operation. I particularly marveled at the many elevators, the skid pads on the floors, the wall charts of detailed plans for each meal, the vast hot decks, and the massive dish-washing station. Thanks to a summer working the dish room at Camp Wawona, I have a fascination with industrial dish machines, and this one did not disappoint. I was amazed that they could actually keep track of three or four different china patterns that go to different parts of the ship, but are washed in the same place.
That afternoon marked the first of the on-board CE concerts. Each day, the group performed a song that was meaningful to its own history. For example, "Nearer, Still Nearer" was the song that brought the group together in the first place. "Fishers of Men" was the first song arranged exclusively for Christian Edition, and "Higher Ground" was the first song my father arranged for them, back before he started out as their accompanist. Also, these concerts featured guest performances by Deanne Knipschild, Jennifer LaMountain, and Jaime Jorge. It was good to hear the latter two again; I was first introduced to their music a little over ten years ago at the first Voice of Prophecy Family Reunion concert at the Loma Linda SDA church, and I've had a soft spot for them ever since. I particularly enjoyed a few of the pieces that several of these artists did together, such as "Jerusalem" and "Midnight Cry."
It was also a formal night at dinner, followed by one of the ship's production shows. This time around, I actually only went to two or three of the ship's shows the entire week. Theater without a story sort of misses the point of theater, as far as I'm concerned, but I did enjoy watching the dancers, hearing the singers, and guessing the secrets of the young illusionist recently escaped from "America's God Talent." My favorite, though, was a pair of aerialists who told the story of how they met, fell in love, and married through acrobatics and air ballet. I've seen several Cirgue du Soleil shows, which use many acrobats and aerialists to fill a stage, but these two hold their own, filling the space and telling a story better than the full cast of Quidam or Mystere.
The first full day of the cruise ended in the second row of the ship's cinema re-watching The King's Speech. The next day brought us to a tiny port of call, Icy Straights Point. After a quick water color lesson on board ship, we disembarked and my mother somehow talked my father and I into riding the world's longest zipline. It took 45 minutes to bus up to the top of the precipice where the platform is built. On the way, we passed through the tiny town of Hoonah and got some great views of the mountains and water. When we got to the top, some of us had to talk each other into going through with it. 5,000 feet is a lovely number on paper, but when you get to the top of the mountain, it feels even longer. From the top of the platform, you have to squint to see the end of the line at the bottom. When it was my father and I's turn, I resolved to make the ride last as long as possible so that I could enjoy the view. I did not expect it to go so fast from the start; I thought it would accelerate to its top speed of 60 miles per hour. There's no feeling quite like it; I literally couldn't breathe. I didn't scream; I just soaked in the feeling of the air, the rushing of the trees, the majestic spread of the water before me. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Back on the ground, though, I equally enjoyed a conversation my father and I had with a local Tlingit artisan of the Octopus clan. He explained the reasons behind the layout of First Nations art with the principle of the ovoids, the difference between regular and shamanic crafts, the two-color process, and the meanings of the different clan designs. He showed us a picture of a wedding dress he made for a local woman, which was fascinating.
After all that excitement, it was nice to spend Wednesday with the ship parked next to Hubbard Glacier. Even the crew was shocked at how close the ship got to this massive wall of ice; they've never dared go that far. The dancer stopped his lesson, the busboy set down his dishes, and the head chef left his kitchen to marvel at this great tower of ice streaked with blue, white, and grey. My great grandmother and I stood in the bow of the ship, which is usually reserved for the crew, to watch it. There are some sights that defy words, some moments that defy measured time. This was one of them.
That evening, the Pedersons treated my parents and I to one of the most incredible meals of my life at Murano, the ship's specialty restaurant. The food was, in short, AMAZING. From the overture that was the goat cheese souffle (with a decorative bread cage over it) to the closing strains of the quattro apples, every bite was a wonder, a fantasia in flavor. We ate and talked together for three and a half hours. I couldn't say which was better; the food or the conversation. Some of you have heard me describe certain meals as symphonies before, but this was like the difference between the LA Philharmonic playing outside (no offense, LA Phil; I love those outdoor concerts) and San Francisco Symphony on a good night.
Thus fortified, we attacked the next day in Juneau with great vigor. There were more volunteers from our group to paint a church and feed the homeless than could be used, so we went on a tour instead. Our bus driver was a Tlingit native who gave us a great city tour. He let us all out at Mendenhall Glacier, where I was blown away by the natural beauty of the place. The last time we were there, a thick fog covered the place and my parents made me stand in the freezing rain to take pictures. This time, everything was sunlight and even the flowers around it bloomed with an incredible clarity. We were even able to walk out on the rocks closer to the glacier, which sparkled in the sunlight.
The bus driver made a special stop to the log chapel on the Southwestern Alaska University, which my grandmother remembered from a previous trip. This small church has a stunning view of the glacier through its front window. It so happens that our bus driver was the son of the pastor who had ministered there for several decades and had died a few weeks previously. He had been one of the few pastors to preach both in Tlingit and English. There was a large old reed organ in that church, and he unlocked it so my father could play. As my father played, "Church in the Wildwood," tourists stopped in the midst of this secular tour to listen, and as we re-boarded the bus, I saw the driver wipe a tear from his eye.
Friday brought us to Ketchikan, where Christian Edition did a program for a local nursing home. In this port, I ran across a shop selling Russian handcrafts. I probably spent a half hour or more in there, talking to a woman who worked there about Pushkin's fairy tales, the craft of metroishka (nesting dolls), and ikons. I walked out of there with my only purchase of the entire cruise, an ikon of St. Michael, in hopes of remembering all the wonderful things I got to study in Dr. Winkle's classes on Daniel and the Sabbath this year.
This particular Sabbath got off to a good start, as I spent it at the on-board Shabbat service. The whole thing was in modern Hebrew, and very musical. Even though I didn't get every word (Biblical Hebrew is a little different), a woman from London made me feel welcome and I enjoyed the candles, the chanting, and the hospitality they offered me even when they figured out I wasn't Jewish. It was sweet, like the Sabbath itself. As if to top that, when I was writing on the balcony of our state room that evening, I could hear the strains of Jaime Jorge's violin music wafting through the air. I'm not sure if it was a recording or him actually practicing, but either way, it was a surreal but beautiful experience to hear that while overlooking the ocean and Alaskan scenery on board a cruise ship.
Church was held in the ship's main theater, and Haffner delivered a sermon so poignant that many of us teared up. It was about Ecclesiastes and the different seasons of life; namely, how to live wisely through each. I was surprised at the end to see that the aerialists I had admired earlier in the week were there, as was the captain. There was a short turn-around time between this service and the final concert, which was a more deliberate outreach open to the entire ship. I was surprised to see the place pack out. From the back of the auditorium, I could see the crew member who stood quietly back there with tears in his eyes as well as the ship's own violinist who stopped in to hear Jaime Jorge play, still dressed with violin in hand from her own duty shift. Halfway through one of his songs, the orchestrated tracks dropped out and he kept on going as though nothing had happened. It was amazing. More amazing, though, was seeing some of these people who had been at the on-ship bars or casino all week listening to Christian music. We handed out CDs for them to take home with them for free, praying that it will make a difference.
When everything was said and done, it was a delight to take a quiet stroll on deck as the sun set over the waves. I had been skeptical about the value of a cruise as a mission trip, but at the end of this cruise, I could see that our group had collectively made a difference--while having a great time, too. Somewhere in the Pacific there's now a ship full of music about the great love of God. When the cruise season ends, the crew members will go home to their families all over the world, and then who knows what?
The brilliant colors of the sky faded, and the night gave way to the stark light of morning in the port of Vancouver. It would be another long day of travel, but by the time it was all said and done, I felt more refreshed than exhausted by the hours on the road. It would take a day for the sensation of the ground moving to stop, but it was so worth it. I wish all of you equally rich adventures this summer--but also opportunities to touch a life and make a difference. No matter where you are or what your belief system is, you have a chance to change the world through the people you meet. Meet them well.
