Building a lighthouse on isolated rocks in a sea subject to gales is a formidable task. In the seventeenth century Henry Winstanley undertook the task, drawing both fame and criticism for his work. According to Adam Hart-Davis and Emily Troscianko, authors of Henry Winstanley and the Eddystone Lighthouse (Sutton Publishing, 2002; and The History Press, ebook, 2013), the elegant, tall structure was supposed to be a testimony to Winstanley’s engineering genius. Unfortunately, as Winstanley and five others were making repairs to the lighthouse, they and it were hit by one of the worst storms in English history.
Lighthouses have to be strong. Those built within tidal ranges are subject to wind and surf, both capable of exerting powerful forces against a standing structure. The people who build and maintain lighthouses have been rather unique. They risk injury and death at the worst, and at the least, they undergo isolation for long periods, but their efforts have saved ships and lives. Unfortunately, the need for a lighthouse is always an “after the fact” requisite: Some ship or ships had to be damaged or destroyed and some lives lost to emphasize the need for a lighthouse on a particular coast and to warrant the cost of its construction and maintenance to save future lives.
Henry might have been guilty of some pride in his architecture. That seems understandable because he did garner the admiration of a king, and he did become a bit famous. If only that storm hadn’t hit, his lighthouse and he might have been around through many seasons. Storms are unpredictable both in occurrence and in strength. People are always being caught off guard by their ferocity. Well, not all people. Some know that humble vigilance is necessary for survival.
In life everyone is a sailor on a ship that passes dangerous rocks. Navigating safely through the occasional storm requires some trustworthy light, one that will be there regardless of tide and surf. All of us need someone who builds and maintains a warning light, even the people who build and maintain the light. Humility in the face of potential storm waters near dangerous rocks requires that we know we are vulnerable, that we can be blown off course and onto sharp rocks, and that even the
For 200,000 years humans have put up warning lights for their progeny. What “lighthouse” did your cultural ancestors build to warn you? Is it still there, and can you see it? Before an unexpected storm forces you onto sharp rocks, humbly scan the horizon for a lighthouse, and, if you can in turn, build a sturdy one for your friends and descendants.