July 24, 2019
By Mary Regina Morrell
Years ago, before Superstorm Sandy hit the Jersey coast and changed life for so many people, including me, I often visited a small café on the ocean where breakfast was served on a dock overlooking the water.
I found it a wonderful place to decompress and absorb the restorative energy of the ocean. It was enchanting, but when dolphins sometimes showed up, it wasn’t just me who was enchanted.
In an instant, children would run from their chairs to the deck’s edge, breakfast chatter quieted, forks went down and attentions were strained for a better look at these amazing creatures.
What is it about these spirits of the ocean that captures the heart and imagination? Why are so many compelled to stop their ceaseless running through time even for a few seconds just to get a glimpse of these free and powerful mammals?
Perhaps they are a déjà vu for the human spirit, calling to our sacred nature, our sense of what was and what could be if we were to nurture our hearts and souls as much as we do our minds and bodies. Dolphins are at home in the primordial waters of creation. Mystics of the sea. Perhaps they are what each of us has the capacity to be – one with creation, one with God.
I sense that Pope Saint John Paul II, who spoke often of the sacredness of nature, would have enjoyed this place. It was he who wrote that “nature becomes a Gospel that speaks to us of God: 'For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator'” (Wisdom 13:5).
He reminded us of Paul’s teaching that, “‘Ever since the creation of the world [God's] eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made' (Romans 1:20). But this capacity for contemplation and knowledge, this discovery of a transcendent presence in creation, must also lead us to rediscover our fraternity with the earth, to which we have been linked since creation” (cf Genesis 2:7).
Eventually, as unexpectedly as they came, the dolphins would slip out of sight, guests would return to their seats and the animated chatter returned to the breakfasting crowd. Though attentions turned back to the business of the day, it was encouraging to believe that those few minutes of dolphin-watching made an impression on some receptive soul who would be inspired to “rediscover their fraternity with the earth,” and lead others to do the same.
We are, after all, called to be stewards of creation.
Mary Regina Morrell is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.