The Titanic continues to capture our imagination as the recent success of the film Titanic demonstrates. In St. John's, this eastern-most city of North America, in the wind-swept Atlantic island province of Newfoundland, only 590 kilometers north-west of the luxury liner's watery grave, the fate of the Titanic has always been a topic of conversation. In the local museum a life vest from the boat can be viewed, and only recently was a log of the final wireless transmissions released by a family whose members had recorded them with horror, but were unable to help. Around the world, the name Titanic has become synonymous with disaster, since the seemingly unsinkable ship sank in little less than three hours with a loss of 1522 lives when struck by an iceberg. Here human confidence in technology bordering on hybris had been mercilessly put to the test, and lost. Only later did some of the causes and circumstances of this great catastrophe come to light: the lack of life-boats; the poor evacuation and response; the blatant class preferences during the evacuation ...

The Titanic has become a supreme warning example for the religious world, an incentive for preparedness in the face of uncertainty and human precariousness. It is thus not surprising that the religious writers and preachers have used this topic ever since the tragedy happened. In the annals of Church of Christ periodicals, also the Gospel Advocate and its front page editor, Robert Henry Boll, featured the fate of the Titanic in the 25 April issue of 1912. Permit me to share with you Boll's narrative and reflections, written shortly after the boat sank.

Editor

The Disaster of the Titanic

At this writing the awful news has gone forth that the Titanic, the largest ship in existence, with about sixteen hundred lives on board, has sunk in the depths of the Atlantic. The ship was as long as three city blocks. It was magnificently built, equipped, furnished, a floating palace with all the appointments and luxuries for the comfort of the person and delight of the eye human ingenuity could invent. On board, on this the maiden journey of the palatial colossus, were about twenty-three hundred persons. It was a city in itself. It was a little world, and the great and small, the splendor and glory, the wealth and wisdom, the sin and vanity of the world were represented there. Among its passengers were numbered some of the richest men in the world. There was John Jacob Astor, possessor of a fortune of one hundred and fifty millions, returning from the honeymoon trip of his recent ill-reputed marriage. There were several who were worth one hundred millions, and a good many more who were multimillionaires -- big merchants, heads of manufacturing concerns, railroad magnates. There was the brilliant W. T. Stead: the artist Millet, and, in short, a remarkable proportion of such men, rich or great or talented, as the world will surely miss. Among other items, pearls and diamonds to vast value went down. Then there was a long list of second-cabin passengers, and a longer one still perhaps of third class. Also a crew of about eight hundred and sixty men. The third-class passengers were unimportant people, the papers I saw gave none of their names; nor yet of the crew, the captain and some of the chief officers excepted. On Sunday night, April 14, the ship was proceeding on her course. There was the usual amount of light and frivolous chaffing, no doubt, of hilarity and pleasure, of vain exhibition, of the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, that one may observe at any time on such ships. No anticipation of any disaster. Were they not on the greatest and safest ship afloat? Who would be pessimistic and apprehensive in the gay crowd? About ten o'clock the Titanic struck an iceberg. Forthwith, as soon as the seriousness of the collision was realized, the wireless apparatus flashed forth insistent calls for immediate help. The stations on land and the ships within a radius of two hundred miles caught it, and there was a rush to carry relief. But, according to closest calculation, the nearest ship could not reach them till Monday, 10 A.M. Would the Titanic be able to keep afloat that long? The signals kept up. Now she was sinking by the head. The company declared the Titanic was unsinkable. If she did list downward on one end, there were many watertight compartments which would certainly keep her afloat. The signals kept flashing in, more insistent: help, help, immediate help they needed. Now they set out the lifeboats -- a small fleet of them, filled chiefly with women and children, about eight hundred persons in all. The Titanic was still afloat, for she kept signaling. There was general assurance that she would hold out till relief came. About 2:30 A.M. the last wireless from the Titanic. It was indistinct, confused, blurred, and stopped abruptly. After that, silence. Every apparatus, ashore or afloat, was tuned and strained to catch the faintest signal. No more signals! A heavy, deadly agony of fear fell upon the anxious ones on the shores as they awaited the further details that would reveal the fate of their loved ones. The news account declares that the Titanic lies buried two miles deep in the great Atlantic, having carried with it the greater part of the lives of the passengers and all the crew, and its vast wealth of jewels, and all its pomp and glory.

A catastrophe like this should not pass over the minds of the people of God without making its deep impression. It is, as it were, a miniature reproduction, and, like the destruction of the cities of the plain, a type forewarning and foreshadowing the goal of the world. Just as the Titanic sank, just so shall pass away the world and the lust thereof. So unexpectedly; so utterly beyond the reach of help; so irretrievably, shall it all perish, with its pomp and its glitter, its social distinctions, its pride, its folly, its wealth, its sins; and so shall it all be swallowed up in ruin.

"Salvation" was a great word that night on the Titanic. They may never have known the significance of it before. But they learned the meaning and the value of it that night in at least its temporal aspect; and possibly in its eternal import also. Most of them too late. Yet there was a remnant that escaped.

And was it not a privilege to each one of those that were called and permitted to enter the lifeboats, even if they did have to leave their things behind, and perhaps some friends and loved ones; even if they did have to endure discomfort and exposure on the small boats? But there are the many to-day, Christians, too, who "mind earthly things;" who count the salvations of God too difficult and inconvenient; who cleave to the world, and shall therefore be engulfed with it in its ruin and condemnation. "He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it."

Finally, if you or I had been before enlightened of God as to the fate that awaited the Titanic on this voyage, we should have felt bound by every consideration of honor and regard for human beings to warn them each and all; and we would have endured their skepticism, their jeers and ridiculing and scorn, insults even, if by any means we might dissuade some from the ill-fated ship. But God has told us what shall come and must come to the world and how "the end of all things is at hand." If you know the Savior, if you know the Way of escape, will you not for His sake and for the sake of the perishing souls go tell it to-day?