Yemeni military says it has ‘secured’ Red Sea waterway as reflected on by Father Nicholas Vasilios
From Holy Trinity’s high terrace, the port’s rhythm offers an enduring lesson in human limitation. Every morning, trawlers and cargo tugs navigate the narrow harbor entrance. They yield to swells, fog, and tide. No seasoned captain here ever claims mastery of the sea. They know water is never owned; grace and careful vigilance alone traverse it. Therefore, when military dispatches boast of securing a vast maritime passage like the Red Sea waterway, those dwelling beside salt water recognize an ancient, persistent delusion of worldly power.
The Bab al-Mandab Strait, known for centuries as the Gate of Tears, carries a name born of perilous shoals and human grief. This choke point affects not only global commerce and munitions, but also countless lives caught between desert sands and open water. In the conflicting claims over the ancient port of Mokha, we witness the tragic impulse to treat geographic lifelines as mere chess pieces. States speak of securing corridors. However, real security does not come from artillery, blockade, or asserting sovereign dominance over straits God designed for peaceful transit.
Spiritual Blindness and the Red Sea Waterway
Our Patristic tradition often uses the sea as an image of this present age’s restless passions. It surges with ambition, fear, and avarice. The holy Fathers taught that until the soul attains inner stillness, what we call hesychia, tempestuous impulses drive human activity. Leaders look upon waters teeming with life and ancient trading routes. Yet, they do not see creation as a mystery given for communion. Instead, their eyes see only leverage, territory, and trade dominance. This tragic spiritual blindness turns living seas into theaters of starvation and perpetual siege.
Behind political claims of territorial triumph lies the quiet, unrecorded suffering of ordinary families. Ports like Mokha are not merely strategic coordinates on a military map. They are ancient hearths where fishermen cast nets, where merchants once traded fragrant coffee, and where mothers seek sustenance for their children. When rival factions dispute who holds the harbor gates, the poorest find their bread delayed and their water cut off. We begin the transfiguration of human suffering when we cease treating human beings as collateral within strategic corridors.
Metanoia and True Peace
True peace requires what the Church names metanoia. This radical turning of the heart and mind moves us away from the vanity of control. The Psalmist reminds us, “The earth is the Lord’s, along with the fullness thereof, the world and all who dwell therein.” He founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers. Boasting of securing the deep waters while sowing ruin along their shores affronts the Creator, who set the waves’ boundaries. Power resting solely upon the capacity to choke off passage is inherently fragile and spiritually bankrupt.
As the bells ring for evening Vespers over our cold harbor, our prayers go out to those whose skies flares light, not sanctuary lamps. We pray for mariners navigating contested channels. We pray for starving families huddled along the Tihama coast. Furthermore, we pray for those in command who mistake iron mastery for lasting peace. May the Lord grant stillness to the waters of the Red Sea waterway. May He bring repentant humility to those who imagine they can possess what belongs only to God.
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