Joy.
It's a simple word that somehow defies description on a broad scale because it is so specific to each person's life and spirit. Happiness is a little easier to grasp, at least as a concept. Happiness lights up a room, has long term effects and many sources over the course of time.
But Joy, that is something unique, special and more deeply felt, way down in our souls. I believe joy, like wisdom, takes time for us to understand before we can savor just how much it changes both our perspective and our very being. My best understanding is that joy can be described as a tremble of intense delight and hope that never wavers, but keeps resonating.
How do you describe joy? Joy can be a feeling of elation over an accomplishment, our own or that of a loved one. Joy can also be a moment of deep satisfaction or peace. For others, joy is a sense of relief at having survived the unimaginable.
But, perhaps, there is an even more important question. How do you live joy?
Joy isn't one of those things we can fake, especially to ourselves. Putting on a good show for the people around us doesn't equal living a joyful life, although many have given a pretty good effort toward that effect. The Bible often speaks of God not being easily deceived either. When we claim a faith based in God as central to our daily living joy takes on another whole meaning, that of truth and grace as we seek to live according to our purpose. And there is joy built into that promise of God's love and faithfulness. The Bible shares many moments of rejoicing at a deep soul level. Biblical images of this very thing are abundant: David dancing with his people; Mary and Elizabeth sharing the news of their children's impending arrivals; Paul's letters to the emerging churches expressing his joy in their love of Christ.
When we consider joy as inherent in our spiritual practice, it becomes much more tangible, something solid we can hold onto fiercely. At other times we must let joy be without clinging to it for dear life. It is this duality that makes joy almost poignant as it weaves itself through human dreams and lives. The prophet Isaiah said, "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth in singing. and all the tees of the fields shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off (Isaiah 55: 12-13)."
What brings us joy may very well be the belief that joy itself is already in us, that exercising its power makes it alive in the world around us as an act of faith.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Kindness
Have you ever watched Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella?
The Broadway musical became a television special in the 1960's and a cherished memory from my childhood ever since. The story itself is timeless: boy meets girl; boy loses girl; boy finds girl once again to live happily ever after. The addition of a fairy godmother, magic pumpkins and glass slippers that had to be impossible to walk in brought drama and suspense to a tale whose ending was known to us all along. We didn't watch Cinderella to discover the ending, but to become a part of the story itself. For just when we think the Prince will not have a chance to try the glass slipper on his true love's foot, Cinderella's fairy godmother urges her to offer the Prince a cool dipper of water to refresh himself on his arduous travels. Against the protests of her stepmother and stepsisters, Cinderella offers the Prince a drink. He recognizes her, and they know they belong together.
Moral of the story: kindness extended can welcome miracles into our lives in the most unexpected of ways.
Have you ever heard the story of the traveler who was attacked and the man who helped him?
Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan. "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was; and when he saw him he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then, he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take care of him; and whatever more you spend I will repay you when I come back.' Which of these do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among thieves? He said, 'The one who showed mercy on him.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do the same (Luke 10: 29-37)."
Moral of the story: kindness extended becomes an example of mercy for others to follow and through which they may experience newness of life.
Some would say that fairy tales and scripture readings do not mix well as theological underpinnings on which to base our lives. I believe that God welcomes each of us to search out divine activity and reason wherever we may find it. In wise observations we also understand ourselves to be instruments of God's compassionate, loving action in the world. Kindness is perhaps one of the most important acts of faith we can perform in service to our fellow human beings.
Kindness is simple: friendly, gentle, benevolent, generous behavior toward another person. Think about that for a moment. Consider some of the opportunities through the day that you have to be friendly, gentle, benevolent or generous with another person in how you think about them, speak with them and act toward them. I'm not only asking you to ponder the nice people who cross your path, but also those with whom you don't feel completely comfortable and those whose response to you may not be anticipated as positive.
How difficult is it for you to offer a friendly, thoughtful attitude to a co-worker who rubs you the wrong way?
Is it possible for you to be gentle and considerate with a family member or an acquaintance who doesn't listen very well?
Can you generously share your pocket change with a street beggar?
Are you able to set aside your own agenda to benevolently direct or lead a visitor to your city to their destination?
Kindness is always an act of faith, an assurance of a hoped for outcome that will benefit someone else and increase our own belief in God's friendliness, generosity, benevolence and gentleness for us. Kindness extended stretches our faith, makes it bigger, more inclusive, whatever the response we get from the person to whom we have reached out. Being kind doesn't guarantee a fairy tale ending to the story, but simply includes us in God's story.
Reconsider our storybook heroine.
Cinderella should have been, by all rights, a miserable young woman. Her parents were dead and she was stranded in this household serving her rather selfish, rude stepfamily. At best she was taken for granted in all her efforts at cleaning and caring for these ungrateful people. At worst she faced a life of uncertainty and abuse at the hands of those who thought nothing of her. But somewhere in her heart she still found it possible to remain friendly, gentle, generous and benevolent as a way of life. That way led her to her future in one simple gesture of kindness.
Reconsider the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Jesus distinguished this man's behavior between that of the Jewish priest and the Levite because there was no love lost between Samaritans and Jews in Jesus' time. But still the Samaritan extended friendliness, gentleness, generosity and benevolence to a man he didn't know who would potentially never repay him. The Good Samaritan crossed cultural, religious, financial and personal security boundaries to help a stranger in a time of deeply-felt need.
Moral of the story: kindness moves us outside our usual ways of thinking and behaving to become one with God's story of love.
The Broadway musical became a television special in the 1960's and a cherished memory from my childhood ever since. The story itself is timeless: boy meets girl; boy loses girl; boy finds girl once again to live happily ever after. The addition of a fairy godmother, magic pumpkins and glass slippers that had to be impossible to walk in brought drama and suspense to a tale whose ending was known to us all along. We didn't watch Cinderella to discover the ending, but to become a part of the story itself. For just when we think the Prince will not have a chance to try the glass slipper on his true love's foot, Cinderella's fairy godmother urges her to offer the Prince a cool dipper of water to refresh himself on his arduous travels. Against the protests of her stepmother and stepsisters, Cinderella offers the Prince a drink. He recognizes her, and they know they belong together.
Moral of the story: kindness extended can welcome miracles into our lives in the most unexpected of ways.
Have you ever heard the story of the traveler who was attacked and the man who helped him?
Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan. "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was; and when he saw him he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then, he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take care of him; and whatever more you spend I will repay you when I come back.' Which of these do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among thieves? He said, 'The one who showed mercy on him.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do the same (Luke 10: 29-37)."
Moral of the story: kindness extended becomes an example of mercy for others to follow and through which they may experience newness of life.
Some would say that fairy tales and scripture readings do not mix well as theological underpinnings on which to base our lives. I believe that God welcomes each of us to search out divine activity and reason wherever we may find it. In wise observations we also understand ourselves to be instruments of God's compassionate, loving action in the world. Kindness is perhaps one of the most important acts of faith we can perform in service to our fellow human beings.
Kindness is simple: friendly, gentle, benevolent, generous behavior toward another person. Think about that for a moment. Consider some of the opportunities through the day that you have to be friendly, gentle, benevolent or generous with another person in how you think about them, speak with them and act toward them. I'm not only asking you to ponder the nice people who cross your path, but also those with whom you don't feel completely comfortable and those whose response to you may not be anticipated as positive.
How difficult is it for you to offer a friendly, thoughtful attitude to a co-worker who rubs you the wrong way?
Is it possible for you to be gentle and considerate with a family member or an acquaintance who doesn't listen very well?
Can you generously share your pocket change with a street beggar?
Are you able to set aside your own agenda to benevolently direct or lead a visitor to your city to their destination?
Kindness is always an act of faith, an assurance of a hoped for outcome that will benefit someone else and increase our own belief in God's friendliness, generosity, benevolence and gentleness for us. Kindness extended stretches our faith, makes it bigger, more inclusive, whatever the response we get from the person to whom we have reached out. Being kind doesn't guarantee a fairy tale ending to the story, but simply includes us in God's story.
Reconsider our storybook heroine.
Cinderella should have been, by all rights, a miserable young woman. Her parents were dead and she was stranded in this household serving her rather selfish, rude stepfamily. At best she was taken for granted in all her efforts at cleaning and caring for these ungrateful people. At worst she faced a life of uncertainty and abuse at the hands of those who thought nothing of her. But somewhere in her heart she still found it possible to remain friendly, gentle, generous and benevolent as a way of life. That way led her to her future in one simple gesture of kindness.
Reconsider the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Jesus distinguished this man's behavior between that of the Jewish priest and the Levite because there was no love lost between Samaritans and Jews in Jesus' time. But still the Samaritan extended friendliness, gentleness, generosity and benevolence to a man he didn't know who would potentially never repay him. The Good Samaritan crossed cultural, religious, financial and personal security boundaries to help a stranger in a time of deeply-felt need.
Moral of the story: kindness moves us outside our usual ways of thinking and behaving to become one with God's story of love.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Practical Beauty
Decorating has always been a part of my life. My mother's subscription to Better Homes and Gardens rarely made it to her hands before mine. Especially during the summer months, when school didn't impede my camping out on our front steps until the mail carrier arrived, I relished each issue and all the magical ways it offered to imagine and manifest lovely, comfortable spaces. Even then, decorating for me was synonymous with inspired living. Creating a beautiful environment equaled shaping a room or a house into my own world, even if that world existed only in my own mind.
Today is no different, except that the subscription to BH and G is now in my name.
Memories of pouring over pages and pages of rooms filled with pretty fabrics, finely-crafted furniture and fresh flowers positioned just so on a fireplace mantle motivated me to rearrange my bedroom this past weekend. Ever since I moved in last summer I had pondered the next steps of how I would translate the room into its most wonderful state of being. Standing back and surveying part of my kingdom satisfies me immensely. Watching it unfold as I drag the furniture around the room, reposition prints and mirrors to align with the new arrangement and shift the accessories to new locations, dusting and vacuuming as I go, is about bringing out the best that each piece has to offer in relationship to all the others with which it is associated. Sometimes that means moving an object to another room or giving it away so someone else can enjoy it. While I am still about creating my own world it no longer exists only in my head, and I am very clear that I am about achieving harmony, balance and peace with whatever resources I have at my disposal.
I tend not to look at objects as only being beautiful unto themselves, but also in how they can be utilized in everyday living. My favorite things are those that create beauty in their practicality. Baskets that hang on the wall in my living room transform themselves into serving trays and Christmas ornament displays. Teapots on bookshelves can be plucked from their perches and placed on the table ready for brewing. Pillows resting on chairs and sofas provide visual texture and interest, but also feel really good against a tired back or under a weary, nap-ready head.
So it isn't about the dollar value of what I possess, but about the extravagant application of my creativity that means much more to me. I feel wealthy after I complete such an adventure, standing back to again survey my kingdom, knowing that inspiration is truly a God-given gift that can be applied anywhere we see fit to make the world a better place.
My next door neighbor knows inspiration is a gift in her work as an occupational therapist. Her job is to help people reclaim their bodies after such devastating occurrences as strokes and accidents. Even being able to help someone relearn how to move a finger makes her day. To achieve these goals she employs all the tools available to her: her education, training, dedication and most importantly, her faith. She talks about how her soul resonates with the souls of the people with whom she works. That resonance, God's spirit communicating between them, is what guides her to help her patients draw on their own strength to heal. Although not in her job description, she styled a patient's hair last week, giving the woman a whole new outlook on herself and the world. Three extra minutes of my neighbor's time made her patient feel beautiful again. From that moment of delight came a movement forward in her therapy on which she continues to build each day.
My guess is that home decor and occupational therapy are not linked in your mind as equal avenues to creating a better world. Perhaps you had an inkling that I had waded into the shallow end of the theological pool talking about decorating as a spiritual experience. Maybe you are not aware that whenever God's spirit is made tangible there is beauty to behold if you are willing to see it.
Jesus was certainly not above enjoying the beauty surrounding him or using beauty as a tool to expand people's understanding of where and how God resided in their world. He encouraged those willing to hear to let go of their anxiety and to, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow'; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these (Matthew 28-29)." From that observation I can only surmise that Jesus used beauty as a practical teaching tool and also saw beauty in people's souls. It is poetic to look beyond what others see and feel the depth of truth that lies within living beings, whether they be flowers, animals or women, children and men.
Have you ever wondered who you would have chosen as your disciples if you were in Jesus' place? It's endlessly fascinating to me how clearly Jesus could see through to the core of who he selected as his closest allies. He didn't choose these people based on standard hiring guidelines but on how their characters and gifts resonated with the work that needed to be done in that time and place. He chose them for the truth, the beauty of who they were and how they would apply themselves to the simple and complex practicalities of what was and what was to come. Whatever mistakes they made along the way, their one decision to follow Jesus set them on a path that would bring forth everything they had to offer.
We are no different, called as we are to give the best, the most beautiful parts of ourselves to whatever purpose we are here to serve. Beauty is often pushed aside in favor of the harsh realities of living that overwhelm us, even on our best days. But God did not separate out the beautiful from the practical in the process of creation, and God never told us to separate out the beautiful from the practical in our own process of creation. If either were true the sky would not provide such endless supplies of clouds and stars, and there would surely be no graceful variety in architecture or food. Homes could all look the same and food could be food. We would be housed and fed just the same.
Making the world a better place, a more beautiful place, is about perspective and action. There is great beauty in the truth of living because everything we create comes from God from whom all blessings flow. How that is made real, welcomed into the vast creation in which we live, is as individual as we are. How all that energy and abundance works together is how God continues to work among us engendering harmony, balance and peace as both simple and ample grace. We dance together as God's people, each giving to and receiving from one another all the gifts God has given us. Beautiful and practical, just like God.
Today is no different, except that the subscription to BH and G is now in my name.
Memories of pouring over pages and pages of rooms filled with pretty fabrics, finely-crafted furniture and fresh flowers positioned just so on a fireplace mantle motivated me to rearrange my bedroom this past weekend. Ever since I moved in last summer I had pondered the next steps of how I would translate the room into its most wonderful state of being. Standing back and surveying part of my kingdom satisfies me immensely. Watching it unfold as I drag the furniture around the room, reposition prints and mirrors to align with the new arrangement and shift the accessories to new locations, dusting and vacuuming as I go, is about bringing out the best that each piece has to offer in relationship to all the others with which it is associated. Sometimes that means moving an object to another room or giving it away so someone else can enjoy it. While I am still about creating my own world it no longer exists only in my head, and I am very clear that I am about achieving harmony, balance and peace with whatever resources I have at my disposal.
I tend not to look at objects as only being beautiful unto themselves, but also in how they can be utilized in everyday living. My favorite things are those that create beauty in their practicality. Baskets that hang on the wall in my living room transform themselves into serving trays and Christmas ornament displays. Teapots on bookshelves can be plucked from their perches and placed on the table ready for brewing. Pillows resting on chairs and sofas provide visual texture and interest, but also feel really good against a tired back or under a weary, nap-ready head.
So it isn't about the dollar value of what I possess, but about the extravagant application of my creativity that means much more to me. I feel wealthy after I complete such an adventure, standing back to again survey my kingdom, knowing that inspiration is truly a God-given gift that can be applied anywhere we see fit to make the world a better place.
My next door neighbor knows inspiration is a gift in her work as an occupational therapist. Her job is to help people reclaim their bodies after such devastating occurrences as strokes and accidents. Even being able to help someone relearn how to move a finger makes her day. To achieve these goals she employs all the tools available to her: her education, training, dedication and most importantly, her faith. She talks about how her soul resonates with the souls of the people with whom she works. That resonance, God's spirit communicating between them, is what guides her to help her patients draw on their own strength to heal. Although not in her job description, she styled a patient's hair last week, giving the woman a whole new outlook on herself and the world. Three extra minutes of my neighbor's time made her patient feel beautiful again. From that moment of delight came a movement forward in her therapy on which she continues to build each day.
My guess is that home decor and occupational therapy are not linked in your mind as equal avenues to creating a better world. Perhaps you had an inkling that I had waded into the shallow end of the theological pool talking about decorating as a spiritual experience. Maybe you are not aware that whenever God's spirit is made tangible there is beauty to behold if you are willing to see it.
Jesus was certainly not above enjoying the beauty surrounding him or using beauty as a tool to expand people's understanding of where and how God resided in their world. He encouraged those willing to hear to let go of their anxiety and to, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow'; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these (Matthew 28-29)." From that observation I can only surmise that Jesus used beauty as a practical teaching tool and also saw beauty in people's souls. It is poetic to look beyond what others see and feel the depth of truth that lies within living beings, whether they be flowers, animals or women, children and men.
Have you ever wondered who you would have chosen as your disciples if you were in Jesus' place? It's endlessly fascinating to me how clearly Jesus could see through to the core of who he selected as his closest allies. He didn't choose these people based on standard hiring guidelines but on how their characters and gifts resonated with the work that needed to be done in that time and place. He chose them for the truth, the beauty of who they were and how they would apply themselves to the simple and complex practicalities of what was and what was to come. Whatever mistakes they made along the way, their one decision to follow Jesus set them on a path that would bring forth everything they had to offer.
We are no different, called as we are to give the best, the most beautiful parts of ourselves to whatever purpose we are here to serve. Beauty is often pushed aside in favor of the harsh realities of living that overwhelm us, even on our best days. But God did not separate out the beautiful from the practical in the process of creation, and God never told us to separate out the beautiful from the practical in our own process of creation. If either were true the sky would not provide such endless supplies of clouds and stars, and there would surely be no graceful variety in architecture or food. Homes could all look the same and food could be food. We would be housed and fed just the same.
Making the world a better place, a more beautiful place, is about perspective and action. There is great beauty in the truth of living because everything we create comes from God from whom all blessings flow. How that is made real, welcomed into the vast creation in which we live, is as individual as we are. How all that energy and abundance works together is how God continues to work among us engendering harmony, balance and peace as both simple and ample grace. We dance together as God's people, each giving to and receiving from one another all the gifts God has given us. Beautiful and practical, just like God.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wanting To Grow
Strolling up to the deli at my local grocery I didn't expect a conversation about the recession with the kind man plopping my tofu burger into its plastic take-out container. But that is what I got, an informed opinion about how the store was no longer carrying some items that hadn't been great sellers. Some of the clientele weren't pleased about these cost-cutting measures. According to my guy the store was maintaining, and that was about it. I mentioned that maintaining didn't seem like such a bad thing to me, but he only shot me a confused look, as if I didn't understand how dire the circumstances about which he spoke really were.
Checking my emails an hour or so later I bumped up against the bold statement that the Southern states are suffering the most impact from rising gas prices. Honestly, I didn't look further to discover the reason why. Reading more about these sorts of things doesn't make much sense when I can't control other people's car choices or driving habits. But I have heard rumblings from many folks that echo the deli counter attendant's belief that people feel they can't get ahead anymore, that they are treading water, maintaining, and don't see much hope of that changing any time soon. For the first time in our history we in the United States are looking at the real possibility that the next generation may not be economically better off than its predecessor.
It may be a good time to remind ourselves that money isn't everything, particularly since we live a very privileged life compared to most of the rest of the world. Economic increase, personally and nationally, has become our heritage, but also our obsession. Focusing so heavily on our needs for more does not bode well, no matter what spin we want to put on it.
But even in the midst of our recession-based angst there are a few things that remain stable and clear. One of those things is potty training.
I am not presently teaching, nor have I ever taught someone else how to manage toilet use, but I did speak with a woman at my local bookstore who was about to begin the process with her own child. She was looking for resources because he had shown signs of being ready to go for it. I stood in amazement before this serene, obviously capable woman, wondering aloud how one knew these mysterious things, let alone how to transfer such knowledge on to another human being. She said, simply, that children want to grow.
That's all there is too it, really. It isn't about profit margins, dividends, economic swings and debt management. Kids have it all figured out, something we adults have lost somewhere in the shuffle, that it's all about wanting to grow.
Scripture tells us that Jesus welcomed children to sit with him and learn, despite the best efforts of the adults around him to keep the children at bay, lest the master's patience be tested or his attention be drawn away from really important matters affecting the rest of the world. Luke's gospel recounts the story. "Now they were bringing even infants to see him that he might teach them: and when the disciples saw it they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, 'Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it (Luke 18:15-17)." Children aren't always the best behaved creatures on the planet, but most often they do their best to pay attention, listen and follow what the grown ups are saying. Children are also usually excited about life, eager to know more, build on what they already have stored up in their brains and create glorious adventures to carry them forward. How could Jesus not want to be around that kind of energy and joy? Enthusiasm is contagious, brightening each life it touches and envelopes.
Scripture also tells us of Jesus' best moments of clarity and purpose regarding the stories he told the adults when their turn came to hear what Jesus had to say. Parables, confrontations over points of religious law, sermons expounding on familiar teachings, healings performed among crowds of people and individual encounters with fellow travelers, called those who paid attention, listened, to grow beyond what they already knew and into something more. But unlike children, who seem to have a natural inclination to reach out and stretch themselves into new shapes and sizes, not all the adults who were privy to Jesus' offerings wanted to grow.
The rich young ruler is a good example. In the verses just after Jesus welcomed the children, Luke's gospel recounts this interchange between Jesus and a would-be follower. " And a ruler asked him, 'Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' And Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother. ' And he said, 'All these I have observed from my youth.' And when Jesus heard it, he said to him, 'One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.' But when he heard this he became sad, for he was very rich. Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God (Luke 18:24)!" This fellow clearly was eager to please, but only to a certain point. His beliefs had limits that were quite obvious, even to him as he waked away, very sad at not being able to have the life he wanted. He was unwilling to let go of his need to be wealthy, sacrificing his entire life to hold onto his possessions. His faith apparently receded into the background as he walked away from the man he hoped to follow.
Perhaps the recession, real or imaginary, isn't the most horrible thing that could happen to us. Our financial well-being continues to attract our attention, as well it should. We live in a world in which we need to manage our material wealth with care and consideration. But what we make, have and store up for future use may not need to be our central concern. Reattaching ourselves to that remembrance of wanting more, visioning our future and stretching to bring ourselves to those hopes with pure joy, that is the stuff of which Jesus spoke This is faith, this wanting to grow, and faith is recession-proof.
Checking my emails an hour or so later I bumped up against the bold statement that the Southern states are suffering the most impact from rising gas prices. Honestly, I didn't look further to discover the reason why. Reading more about these sorts of things doesn't make much sense when I can't control other people's car choices or driving habits. But I have heard rumblings from many folks that echo the deli counter attendant's belief that people feel they can't get ahead anymore, that they are treading water, maintaining, and don't see much hope of that changing any time soon. For the first time in our history we in the United States are looking at the real possibility that the next generation may not be economically better off than its predecessor.
It may be a good time to remind ourselves that money isn't everything, particularly since we live a very privileged life compared to most of the rest of the world. Economic increase, personally and nationally, has become our heritage, but also our obsession. Focusing so heavily on our needs for more does not bode well, no matter what spin we want to put on it.
But even in the midst of our recession-based angst there are a few things that remain stable and clear. One of those things is potty training.
I am not presently teaching, nor have I ever taught someone else how to manage toilet use, but I did speak with a woman at my local bookstore who was about to begin the process with her own child. She was looking for resources because he had shown signs of being ready to go for it. I stood in amazement before this serene, obviously capable woman, wondering aloud how one knew these mysterious things, let alone how to transfer such knowledge on to another human being. She said, simply, that children want to grow.
That's all there is too it, really. It isn't about profit margins, dividends, economic swings and debt management. Kids have it all figured out, something we adults have lost somewhere in the shuffle, that it's all about wanting to grow.
Scripture tells us that Jesus welcomed children to sit with him and learn, despite the best efforts of the adults around him to keep the children at bay, lest the master's patience be tested or his attention be drawn away from really important matters affecting the rest of the world. Luke's gospel recounts the story. "Now they were bringing even infants to see him that he might teach them: and when the disciples saw it they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, 'Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it (Luke 18:15-17)." Children aren't always the best behaved creatures on the planet, but most often they do their best to pay attention, listen and follow what the grown ups are saying. Children are also usually excited about life, eager to know more, build on what they already have stored up in their brains and create glorious adventures to carry them forward. How could Jesus not want to be around that kind of energy and joy? Enthusiasm is contagious, brightening each life it touches and envelopes.
Scripture also tells us of Jesus' best moments of clarity and purpose regarding the stories he told the adults when their turn came to hear what Jesus had to say. Parables, confrontations over points of religious law, sermons expounding on familiar teachings, healings performed among crowds of people and individual encounters with fellow travelers, called those who paid attention, listened, to grow beyond what they already knew and into something more. But unlike children, who seem to have a natural inclination to reach out and stretch themselves into new shapes and sizes, not all the adults who were privy to Jesus' offerings wanted to grow.
The rich young ruler is a good example. In the verses just after Jesus welcomed the children, Luke's gospel recounts this interchange between Jesus and a would-be follower. " And a ruler asked him, 'Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' And Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother. ' And he said, 'All these I have observed from my youth.' And when Jesus heard it, he said to him, 'One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.' But when he heard this he became sad, for he was very rich. Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God (Luke 18:24)!" This fellow clearly was eager to please, but only to a certain point. His beliefs had limits that were quite obvious, even to him as he waked away, very sad at not being able to have the life he wanted. He was unwilling to let go of his need to be wealthy, sacrificing his entire life to hold onto his possessions. His faith apparently receded into the background as he walked away from the man he hoped to follow.
Perhaps the recession, real or imaginary, isn't the most horrible thing that could happen to us. Our financial well-being continues to attract our attention, as well it should. We live in a world in which we need to manage our material wealth with care and consideration. But what we make, have and store up for future use may not need to be our central concern. Reattaching ourselves to that remembrance of wanting more, visioning our future and stretching to bring ourselves to those hopes with pure joy, that is the stuff of which Jesus spoke This is faith, this wanting to grow, and faith is recession-proof.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hope Quest
Remember the old days?
So many answers for one simple question. In this case, I am reflecting on how far we have come in securing directions from here to there, wherever here and there may be. Used to be that maps were needed, sometimes several maps, all spread out on the kitchen table or the living room floor. Travelers-in-waiting, we would find our location, pinpoint our destination and start connecting the roads in between. Eventually the American Automobile Association (AAA) enhanced that process with small, flip chart specimens known as TripTiks, eliminating the constant "open the whole map, refold the whole map, uncrumple the whole map" process that frustrated the most gifted map reader. Make no mistake: map reading is a gift. For those of us not blessed with the ability to glance at a paper full of multicolored, squiggly lines and be able to determine our immediate destiny, map reading is torture in a foreign language. Maps mock us.
Enter MapQuest.
Whoever thought of MapQuest deserves a metal, a large page in the great annuls of history and a big ice cream cone for getting this one crucial thing right.
All MapQuest requires of us is to type in where we are, where we want to go and hit enter.
Then, a miracle happens.
All the directions, from backing out of your driveway to pulling into the driveway at the end of your journey is right there in front of you. Granted, all of this needs to be printed out, kept in order and followed to the letter to arrive at one's destination. And, admittedly, sometimes there are glitches and errors. But overall, what a great system!
Hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith.
Where does hope begin? Hope is the belief or understanding that something we can's see, touch, smell, taste or hear already exists or can be created. Hope begins, makes its debut, when we acknowledge something as possible that we don't yet have in our grasp. Finding hope means looking in the right places, searching with an open heart and mind for that which can be made real by our thoughts, words, actions, even our faith.
Jesus spoke openly, boldly and frequently about hope. Each time he asked a damaged human being what they wanted, he invited them to step into the grand arena of hope. Whenever Jesus preached and asked questions about where the kingdom of heaven could be found, he beckoned his listeners to follow him to a place called hope. While Jesus ate with reviled tax collectors, told parables about the hated Samaritans and welcomed the least obvious souls as his cherished followers, he extended a hand to everybody around him to join him in the promised land of hope. Jesus embodied hope, the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exited and could be created in the present moment in the lives of the people around him. These became the people of whom the author of Hebrews spoke: "Let us hold fast our confession of hope without wavering, for God who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23.)." Ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary was not only possible, but immediately available.
That immediacy of Jesus' presence in that ancient world is enviable. Many of us ultimately use historical distance as a buffer against living our own faith. But centuries of wars, human strife, births, marriages, deaths and taxes don't provide us with any excuses not to hope. In fact, they only serve as a collectively solid reason to keep hoping, keep embracing the truth that hope prevails despite the human condition.
While pondering the idea of hope today I did what many of us do each day: I browsed through the newspaper and perused the breaking headlines on the internet. Most of what I read could not be said to inspire hope. I didn't see much overtly good news. Floods, cyclones, fires and tornados led the natural disaster category. A number of beloved public figures have passed on in the last several weeks leaving grieving families, friends and fans behind. The economy is dismal at best. Gasoline prices are soaring. Many people are losing their homes to foreclosure.
So in all these circumstances, where does hope begin?
Hope begins as the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exits and can be created in the present moment in our lives and the lives of the people around us. Hope begins with ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary is not only possible, but immediately available. The author of Hebrews also wrote that, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1)." When we hope we are bridged to faith as the assurance that what we believe is real and getting ready to be welcomed into our lives.
Hope begins as the belief that something unseen already exists and can be created in the present. There are floods, cyclones, fires and tornados in abundance. Hope continues as faithful action when ordinary people willing to help those who have suffered through these disasters come forward to relieve that suffering in extraordinary ways. People die everyday, known and unknown to the public community. Hope continues as these lives move from our daily interaction to become our cherished memories. The economy is dismal, gasoline prices soar and many people are losing their homes to foreclosure. Hope lives on in the creativity of those seeking to empower each other with realistic ways to live well in a changing world.
I continue to believe that hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. Where we are may not look very hopeful, but it is where we are. Where we are headed is our choice. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith. If we are headed for hope as the promised land to which Jesus invited, beckoned and led his followers, that place of making real that which we are not quite able to touch, we will understand hope from its inception and recognize each sign along the way. We will then be living the journey of hope itself.
So many answers for one simple question. In this case, I am reflecting on how far we have come in securing directions from here to there, wherever here and there may be. Used to be that maps were needed, sometimes several maps, all spread out on the kitchen table or the living room floor. Travelers-in-waiting, we would find our location, pinpoint our destination and start connecting the roads in between. Eventually the American Automobile Association (AAA) enhanced that process with small, flip chart specimens known as TripTiks, eliminating the constant "open the whole map, refold the whole map, uncrumple the whole map" process that frustrated the most gifted map reader. Make no mistake: map reading is a gift. For those of us not blessed with the ability to glance at a paper full of multicolored, squiggly lines and be able to determine our immediate destiny, map reading is torture in a foreign language. Maps mock us.
Enter MapQuest.
Whoever thought of MapQuest deserves a metal, a large page in the great annuls of history and a big ice cream cone for getting this one crucial thing right.
All MapQuest requires of us is to type in where we are, where we want to go and hit enter.
Then, a miracle happens.
All the directions, from backing out of your driveway to pulling into the driveway at the end of your journey is right there in front of you. Granted, all of this needs to be printed out, kept in order and followed to the letter to arrive at one's destination. And, admittedly, sometimes there are glitches and errors. But overall, what a great system!
Hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith.
Where does hope begin? Hope is the belief or understanding that something we can's see, touch, smell, taste or hear already exists or can be created. Hope begins, makes its debut, when we acknowledge something as possible that we don't yet have in our grasp. Finding hope means looking in the right places, searching with an open heart and mind for that which can be made real by our thoughts, words, actions, even our faith.
Jesus spoke openly, boldly and frequently about hope. Each time he asked a damaged human being what they wanted, he invited them to step into the grand arena of hope. Whenever Jesus preached and asked questions about where the kingdom of heaven could be found, he beckoned his listeners to follow him to a place called hope. While Jesus ate with reviled tax collectors, told parables about the hated Samaritans and welcomed the least obvious souls as his cherished followers, he extended a hand to everybody around him to join him in the promised land of hope. Jesus embodied hope, the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exited and could be created in the present moment in the lives of the people around him. These became the people of whom the author of Hebrews spoke: "Let us hold fast our confession of hope without wavering, for God who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23.)." Ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary was not only possible, but immediately available.
That immediacy of Jesus' presence in that ancient world is enviable. Many of us ultimately use historical distance as a buffer against living our own faith. But centuries of wars, human strife, births, marriages, deaths and taxes don't provide us with any excuses not to hope. In fact, they only serve as a collectively solid reason to keep hoping, keep embracing the truth that hope prevails despite the human condition.
While pondering the idea of hope today I did what many of us do each day: I browsed through the newspaper and perused the breaking headlines on the internet. Most of what I read could not be said to inspire hope. I didn't see much overtly good news. Floods, cyclones, fires and tornados led the natural disaster category. A number of beloved public figures have passed on in the last several weeks leaving grieving families, friends and fans behind. The economy is dismal at best. Gasoline prices are soaring. Many people are losing their homes to foreclosure.
So in all these circumstances, where does hope begin?
Hope begins as the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exits and can be created in the present moment in our lives and the lives of the people around us. Hope begins with ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary is not only possible, but immediately available. The author of Hebrews also wrote that, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1)." When we hope we are bridged to faith as the assurance that what we believe is real and getting ready to be welcomed into our lives.
Hope begins as the belief that something unseen already exists and can be created in the present. There are floods, cyclones, fires and tornados in abundance. Hope continues as faithful action when ordinary people willing to help those who have suffered through these disasters come forward to relieve that suffering in extraordinary ways. People die everyday, known and unknown to the public community. Hope continues as these lives move from our daily interaction to become our cherished memories. The economy is dismal, gasoline prices soar and many people are losing their homes to foreclosure. Hope lives on in the creativity of those seeking to empower each other with realistic ways to live well in a changing world.
I continue to believe that hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. Where we are may not look very hopeful, but it is where we are. Where we are headed is our choice. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith. If we are headed for hope as the promised land to which Jesus invited, beckoned and led his followers, that place of making real that which we are not quite able to touch, we will understand hope from its inception and recognize each sign along the way. We will then be living the journey of hope itself.
Friday, June 6, 2008
God's Paper Cups
My mom sold our family home last year, the one in which I grew up, so when I make my visit this fall I will only be doing a drive-by visitation of the old homestead. Fortunately, the people who bought the house rehabbed it and had it posted on the web with a local realtor for a few months. That satisfied my curiosity about how the place looked, and it was pleasing to note how they had cared for it. Hopefully, whoever now lives there will love it. My hope, too, is that they will keep the lovely birch tree that has stood proudly in the front yard for over thirty-five years.
The property on which the house stands, while small, is standard for the neighborhood. What made it special for our family was the bounty my parents created, bringing in pear, apple and plum trees, as well as asparagus, raspberries, rhubarb and Concord grapes, all of which we enjoyed, each in their seasons of plenty. A summer garden grew green beans, onions, tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers. What we didn't eat fresh or share with friends was canned by my mother, something a lot of moms did then, even though the process has fallen out of fashion with my generation. I appreciated the plums and raspberries most.. I have also retrofitted my honor for the richness of the past with respect for what asparagus and rhubarb cost at my local market.
While I remember the whole of the backyard bounty with fondness, the trees did more than feed our bodies. They also fed our souls. What is better on a warm Wisconsin summer afternoon than to welcome a tree's imagination into your own, establishing a whole world within the boundaries of its shade and strong branches? Perhaps they were simpler times and often I think that is a good thing, at least for me. I'm glad I still have the memories because the trees and the gardens are now gone.
Which brings me back to the birch tree out front.
I remember the day the it came home to us. A new Walgreens had opened downtown. As a promotion the store was giving away seedling birch trees in large paper cups. Our cup turned out to contain three trees, but only one was sturdy enough to withstand the traffic outside our front door. Once it took root it grew quickly and beautifully. It never was quite tall enough for me to sit under and dream, as I had done so often with the fruit trees out back, but it was graceful, peaceful in the way that only birches can be. Their cream-colored bark, interspersed with deeply brown knots, lend themselves to an especially romantic nature. Our birch became my birch as it grew tall outside my bedroom window. As it reached for the sky, so did I, and soon I left home for the rest of my life.
We all have these stories. Growing up and moving on is the stuff of which life is made. What caught my heart's attention at this time in my life isn't only the anticipated trip home and all the changes that have occurred in my absence. It is to recognize, again, that containers, boundaries, are good for us, but only for certain periods of time. If we stay stuck in them past their intended function we risk stunting our own growth and potentially our future lives. The birch tree would never have been if we had needed to keep it cloistered in its original holder, but by the same token the tree would never have made it to our door if not for the same cup. Nature gives us some clear-cut, obvious lessons, but they are usually a bit challenging to apply to human lives that usually have more gray areas, doubts and questions than seedling trees. Perhaps this idea is somehow related to human beings needing both roots and wings to flourish. Considering all these things my mind also wanders over to the inherent faith lessons.
First and foremost, I firmly believe that God didn't create me or anyone else to stay stuck romanticizing our childhood if we were fortunate enough to have one with some positive attributes. Starting life with a connection to creation unites us in a tangible fashion to our Creator. A whole lot of love from my parents went into that backyard too. They both remembered growing up during the Great Depression and wanted us to always feel we had good things in our lives that would not be taken away from us by economic downturns. God does provide in many and various ways.
Second, God urges us on to the rest of our lives in ways that only God can. Think you can find a nice, safe hole to crawl into, one in which God will never find you? Maybe for some length of time, but not usually forever. Crawling into a hole means you have seen the light of day long enough to realize a step forward is indicated. Hiding, pretending we are not ready for what God has in store for us, only takes time away from what can be, from what we were created to be.
Occasionally, I've heard grown ups, people who have been blessed to have a faith perspective their whole lives, say they attend a particular church because it's a place that "gets back to the basics." To say that attitude confuses me is an understatement. I have asked one or two of these dear souls how their faith informs their lives, only to be met by a confused stare. My understanding is that their beliefs have not kept up with their ability to quote scripture, and they have numbed themselves to hearing God's voice and feeling God's nudging, loving spirit. Of course they are not lost forever, but they have dug themselves a very deep home, one that may take some time and experience out of which to pull themselves.
Third, God is patent as we dig ourselves out of the holes we all inevitably dig for ourselves, always hoping more for us than we ever hope for ourselves. God has a whole lot of paper cups available for us, some to grow out of and some to grow into. The fitting rooms for trying them on are quite spacious, too, and have very forgiving mirrors.
The property on which the house stands, while small, is standard for the neighborhood. What made it special for our family was the bounty my parents created, bringing in pear, apple and plum trees, as well as asparagus, raspberries, rhubarb and Concord grapes, all of which we enjoyed, each in their seasons of plenty. A summer garden grew green beans, onions, tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers. What we didn't eat fresh or share with friends was canned by my mother, something a lot of moms did then, even though the process has fallen out of fashion with my generation. I appreciated the plums and raspberries most.. I have also retrofitted my honor for the richness of the past with respect for what asparagus and rhubarb cost at my local market.
While I remember the whole of the backyard bounty with fondness, the trees did more than feed our bodies. They also fed our souls. What is better on a warm Wisconsin summer afternoon than to welcome a tree's imagination into your own, establishing a whole world within the boundaries of its shade and strong branches? Perhaps they were simpler times and often I think that is a good thing, at least for me. I'm glad I still have the memories because the trees and the gardens are now gone.
Which brings me back to the birch tree out front.
I remember the day the it came home to us. A new Walgreens had opened downtown. As a promotion the store was giving away seedling birch trees in large paper cups. Our cup turned out to contain three trees, but only one was sturdy enough to withstand the traffic outside our front door. Once it took root it grew quickly and beautifully. It never was quite tall enough for me to sit under and dream, as I had done so often with the fruit trees out back, but it was graceful, peaceful in the way that only birches can be. Their cream-colored bark, interspersed with deeply brown knots, lend themselves to an especially romantic nature. Our birch became my birch as it grew tall outside my bedroom window. As it reached for the sky, so did I, and soon I left home for the rest of my life.
We all have these stories. Growing up and moving on is the stuff of which life is made. What caught my heart's attention at this time in my life isn't only the anticipated trip home and all the changes that have occurred in my absence. It is to recognize, again, that containers, boundaries, are good for us, but only for certain periods of time. If we stay stuck in them past their intended function we risk stunting our own growth and potentially our future lives. The birch tree would never have been if we had needed to keep it cloistered in its original holder, but by the same token the tree would never have made it to our door if not for the same cup. Nature gives us some clear-cut, obvious lessons, but they are usually a bit challenging to apply to human lives that usually have more gray areas, doubts and questions than seedling trees. Perhaps this idea is somehow related to human beings needing both roots and wings to flourish. Considering all these things my mind also wanders over to the inherent faith lessons.
First and foremost, I firmly believe that God didn't create me or anyone else to stay stuck romanticizing our childhood if we were fortunate enough to have one with some positive attributes. Starting life with a connection to creation unites us in a tangible fashion to our Creator. A whole lot of love from my parents went into that backyard too. They both remembered growing up during the Great Depression and wanted us to always feel we had good things in our lives that would not be taken away from us by economic downturns. God does provide in many and various ways.
Second, God urges us on to the rest of our lives in ways that only God can. Think you can find a nice, safe hole to crawl into, one in which God will never find you? Maybe for some length of time, but not usually forever. Crawling into a hole means you have seen the light of day long enough to realize a step forward is indicated. Hiding, pretending we are not ready for what God has in store for us, only takes time away from what can be, from what we were created to be.
Occasionally, I've heard grown ups, people who have been blessed to have a faith perspective their whole lives, say they attend a particular church because it's a place that "gets back to the basics." To say that attitude confuses me is an understatement. I have asked one or two of these dear souls how their faith informs their lives, only to be met by a confused stare. My understanding is that their beliefs have not kept up with their ability to quote scripture, and they have numbed themselves to hearing God's voice and feeling God's nudging, loving spirit. Of course they are not lost forever, but they have dug themselves a very deep home, one that may take some time and experience out of which to pull themselves.
Third, God is patent as we dig ourselves out of the holes we all inevitably dig for ourselves, always hoping more for us than we ever hope for ourselves. God has a whole lot of paper cups available for us, some to grow out of and some to grow into. The fitting rooms for trying them on are quite spacious, too, and have very forgiving mirrors.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Coming Home
Travelocity.com and I are becoming intimately acquainted on my diligent quest for flights home sometime in the next few months. Many other state tourism bureaus clam the title "God's Country" for their neck of the woods, but Wisconsin's Door Peninsula, where I grew up, is surely the place God rested on the seventh day. What better place to enjoy the land, water, fresh air, sunshine and homemade ice cream after six long days of constant creative activity? I once told a friend that I thought the whole world would be as beautiful as this place. She laughed, saying I must have been quite disappointed on discovering that wasn't the case.
Perhaps.
Something else to consider is whether or not we can ever go home, at least to whatever imagination holds, together with our heart, soul and memory, as being that perfect place in which we believe we feel most comfortable, most ourselves. That definition could easily describe an entirely different place than the physical boundaries our of which we found our way to adulthood. It's a fair question to ask ourselves: How do we think about home? All the implications contained in the answer each of us comes to inform the rest of our lives.
Having just celebrated my fiftieth last week, I am also living my jubilee year, something the Biblical book of Leviticus tells us is hallowed, a special time of reflection, reorganization and renewal. Another part of the jubilee story is that this is the time in our lives in which we find ourselves going to the land that God is giving us. Jubilee is not only a time to kick back, smell the roses and drink very old, very good Scotch. There is also some deeply felt movement in our souls that requires paying attention in new ways so as not to miss the next steps of the journey. For myself, I am not sure where the land is that God is giving me, anymore than I feel fully comfortable calling where I grew up home.
Is this uncertainty about home also a Biblical tradition, a sacred trust handed down to us through the named and nameless faithful ones preceding us? How did Adam and Eve feel after they were booted from Eden? What was their next address? Did they long for the only home they had ever known? I think of them, and I think of the Israelites wandering the desert for forty years, feeling a sense of kinship, an understanding of that confused, rootless state in which I have found myself each time I have moved. Excitement only carries me so far, and then I must find new places to grocery shop, get my hair cut and my teeth cleaned.
And what of Jesus' life? The Gospels don't mention his desire to find a good chiropractor while he was on the road working those three years, but they do mention that he stayed wherever he was welcomed. My guess is that translated into some pretty interesting accommodations, some of which he probably never mentioned to his mother. But he appears to have appreciated the hospitality of friends and strangers alike, those who had permanent pillows on which to lay their heads each night and who understood the needs of those who did not enjoy the same luxury. Sometimes home is carried for us by compassionate souls until we can find our way back there for ourselves.
Perhaps home isn't so much a physical place as much as it is how we find our way though life. If that is so, we are always coming home and God welcomes us, not as a treasured guest, but as family. Knowing that one basic truth is what carries us.
Perhaps.
Something else to consider is whether or not we can ever go home, at least to whatever imagination holds, together with our heart, soul and memory, as being that perfect place in which we believe we feel most comfortable, most ourselves. That definition could easily describe an entirely different place than the physical boundaries our of which we found our way to adulthood. It's a fair question to ask ourselves: How do we think about home? All the implications contained in the answer each of us comes to inform the rest of our lives.
Having just celebrated my fiftieth last week, I am also living my jubilee year, something the Biblical book of Leviticus tells us is hallowed, a special time of reflection, reorganization and renewal. Another part of the jubilee story is that this is the time in our lives in which we find ourselves going to the land that God is giving us. Jubilee is not only a time to kick back, smell the roses and drink very old, very good Scotch. There is also some deeply felt movement in our souls that requires paying attention in new ways so as not to miss the next steps of the journey. For myself, I am not sure where the land is that God is giving me, anymore than I feel fully comfortable calling where I grew up home.
Is this uncertainty about home also a Biblical tradition, a sacred trust handed down to us through the named and nameless faithful ones preceding us? How did Adam and Eve feel after they were booted from Eden? What was their next address? Did they long for the only home they had ever known? I think of them, and I think of the Israelites wandering the desert for forty years, feeling a sense of kinship, an understanding of that confused, rootless state in which I have found myself each time I have moved. Excitement only carries me so far, and then I must find new places to grocery shop, get my hair cut and my teeth cleaned.
And what of Jesus' life? The Gospels don't mention his desire to find a good chiropractor while he was on the road working those three years, but they do mention that he stayed wherever he was welcomed. My guess is that translated into some pretty interesting accommodations, some of which he probably never mentioned to his mother. But he appears to have appreciated the hospitality of friends and strangers alike, those who had permanent pillows on which to lay their heads each night and who understood the needs of those who did not enjoy the same luxury. Sometimes home is carried for us by compassionate souls until we can find our way back there for ourselves.
Perhaps home isn't so much a physical place as much as it is how we find our way though life. If that is so, we are always coming home and God welcomes us, not as a treasured guest, but as family. Knowing that one basic truth is what carries us.
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