Humans constantly bargain with forces of nature and truths that aren’t really interested or responsive to our bids. A colleague of mine, Dr. Norman Blumenthal has famously remarked, “People do not come to me for change. Instead they are (falsely) hoping that I can help them find a trick to alleviate the difficulties without having to change a darn thing.”

Our Gemara on Amud Aleph described the act of rowing as “mimlach meluchei”, which Rashi suggests comes from the same etymology as the sailors described as malachim in Yonah (1:5). The commentaries see the root word as to stir, such as the actions of rowing the oars, though I wonder if it doesn’t come from the word salt, as a veteran sailor is described as “old Salty.”

In any case, I heard a powerful vort from Rabbi Moshe Bamberger.  Though we are introduced to Yonah’s fellow travelers as “malachim”, sailors who confront the stormy weather on their boat, later as the storm worsens with no let up in sight, they are described differently.  They are no are longer referred to as sailors, but merely “anashim” men (see verse 13).  In the beggining of a challenging event, people hold onto their pride and identity,  I am a competent sailor and I will manage the storm.  But as the effects continue and the defenses and rationalizations fail, there are no artificial props or special privilege.  In desperation, no one is a sailor nor any kind of professional.  Just a mere man begging for God’s mercy amidst the stormy seas of life.