Past and Future, but don't forget the present.

Time spins around and around inside my head.  It could be the beer, I suppose.  I did drink it pretty quickly.  I am really tired and I want to sleep, but I am writing instead because T.S. Eliot tells me I ought to.  I ought not dwell on what might be, but focus on the present.  I should “fare forward” and quit getting distracted by what was or what might be.  He says that if I don’t, not only will I die with my last act being utterly void of meaning, but I will live my life without noticing that God is there in every moment.  

Sure, he's probably right, but he’s a bit of an asshole for pointing it out.  Maybe that is a bit harsh, he really wasn’t talking to me or any other reader, it is pretty clear he was talking to himself.  Kind of like I am doing right now.  

While time is withdrawn, consider the future
And the past with an equal mind.
At the moment which is not of action or inaction
You can receive this: 'on whatever sphere of being
The mind of a man may be intent
At the time of death' - that is the one action
(And the time of death is every moment)
Which shall fructify in the lives of others:
And do not think of the fruit of action.
Fare forward.

- Dry Salvages, III

A 'Low Sunday' sermon: John 20:19-31

Sermon Second Sunday in Easter                                                                                              4/15/2012

It has been seven days now , since we have had our Easter celebration,  and yet the gospel story this morning picks up just a few hours after Mary Magdalene tells the disciples what she experienced at Jesus’ tomb.  And while we have proclaimed Christ’s resurrection, said our Alleluias and eaten our Easter candy, the disciples have yet to join in the celebration.  In today’s Gospel we are pulled back, back to Easter Day, back into the story where we are reminded that the events at the tomb are by no means the end of the Easter story.  The disciples do not seem to believe what Mary has told them, if they had believed surely they would be out looking for Jesus, but instead they have locked themselves inside, afraid of the persecution that may be waiting for them out there.  I can only imagine how they must have felt. The disciples have had their lives turned upside down.  They had given up everything in order to follow Jesus and follow him they did, for three years.  And quite suddenly they find themselves without him, without his leadership, without his strength and wisdom to guide them, and without him they are lost.  Then all of a sudden, in the midst of their grief and despair, Jesus appears among them.  Only then, after they saw him, after they saw the wounds in his hands and his side did they finally rejoice. 

And Jesus wastes no time, in the Gospel according to John, it is on Easter day that Jesus gives the disciples his Great Commission, telling them “As the Father has sent me, even so I have sent you,” this Gospel story makes it quite clear that the mission of the church is inextricably linked to Christ’s resurrection.  The lives we live as Christians cannot be separated from Christ’s saving action on the cross.

 But what Jesus gives the disciples to do is no easy task, the disciples are sent into the world, just as Jesus had been sent, and they are given the unique responsibility of forgiving or retaining the sins of others.  At first glance this looks as if Christ has given the disciples the ability to be the judge and jury over all those that they meet, and certainly it has been interpreted that way, but it is not the privilege of judgment that Christ bestows on the disciples.  It is the responsibility of evangelism.  Jesus gives the disciples the responsibility of bearing witness to the work of God in the world. Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus had given them the commandments to love God and to love their neighbor, and through his own life and death he has shown them what it means to live out those commandments.  Now it is the disciples turn, by living as Christ has taught them to live, they can demonstrate God’s Grace to the whole world, They are called to offer forgiveness to people by letting them know that through Christ they are freed from sin and death. 

 Jesus breathes on all the disciples, giving them the Holy Spirit and commissioning them to continue his work in the world.  All the disciples that is, except for Thomas.  Poor maligned Thomas.  His name forever marred by the “doubting” epithet.  Where had Thomas gone off to during this oh so crucial moment in the life of the church?  If the eleven of them were all so scared of being persecuted, then where was Thomas?  I like to think that Thomas was the only one brave enough to go out, and in the hour of Jesus’ appearance Thomas was out buying everyone dinner.  Of course we can never know for sure where Thomas was, all we know is that he was not there.  What must it have been like to be Thomas, to return to your friends only to discover that they had had this incredible experience in your absence, not only did Jesus appear amongst them, but he breathed the Holy Spirit onto them and gave them a new mission in life.  It is not an enviable place to be in, the odd man out.  No one wants to be the outsider, the one who doesn’t quite get the joke, or understand the reference, No one wants to be the only person who wasn’t there. So I don’t blame Thomas for not believing.   For Thomas to believe what the other disciples shared with him would make him the only disciple NOT given the Holy Spirit, the only disciple NOT made into an apostle, the only disciple NOT given the opportunity to see Jesus once again.  Who, thinking that their loved one is dead, wouldn’t immediately demand to see him upon hearing that he was, in fact, alive?  Who wouldn’t want to touch that person, to embrace him?

Poor Thomas, he would have to wait a whole other week before Easter would come for him.  But eventually Jesus does return to the closed up house, and he presents himself to Thomas who immediately upon seeing Jesus declares quite powerfully “My Lord and My God!” Not only does Thomas believe when sees Jesus, he sees Jesus for who he truly is, Thomas understands and declares it loudly “My Lord and My God!” 

And Christ’s response, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” is not meant to shame Thomas, or to set him up as a foil against the other disciples.  None of the disciples believed before they saw, and that is okay.  Christ understands who we are, he knows that doubt is part of human nature.  Thomas’ encounter with the resurrected Christ is not meant to make us despair over our own doubt, rather it is a story of promise, and it is meant to give us hope.   Thomas was not physically present at the Great Commissioning, but he is still blessed by the Holy Spirit and counted among the apostles, and in his interaction with Thomas, Christ assures us that we too, are blessed and called to represent Christ’s love in the world.  

This calling starts for us at baptism where we are marked as Christ’s own forever.  At baptism we are made part of the body of Christ and as a part of that body we are supported by our fellow pilgrims, and together we are sent out as representatives of Christ to the world.

It is hard to believe that only a week ago we were celebrating Easter.  If it weren’t for the dwindling shelves of half-priced Easter candy, one would hardly know that the Easter holiday had ever happened.  I find it a little frustrating at times, while we are in the midst of the somber season of lent the world around us is  decorating with colorful eggs, bunnies, and pastel colored flowers.  And when we finally get to the Easter season and it is time to rejoice and celebrate the world has already moved on.  But you know I think that is right, the Easter we are celebrating is something entirely different, something far greater that cannot be contained to just one day of the year.  Christ has overthrown death, not just for himself, but for all of us. Christ is the light in the darkness and there is nothing left for us to fear, wherever we are, Christ will meet us there, there is no locked door, no amount of despair or resentment or doubt that can stand in his way.  The Easter story continues with all of us, like the disciples we are called out of our locked rooms and asked to take the joy we experienced on Easter Day, the joy of a life renewed by Christ and we are to share that joy with a suffering world in need of some good news.  

Easter Vigil

We stood in the dimly lit hallway whispering bits of conversation to each other.  It was early and there was an air of expectation all around us.  Finally the clock ticked into place.  It was time.  We filed out one by one into the darkness.  We walked into the church and as we moved along the wall single file I looked out into the nave.  It was not completely dark, the street lamps outside provided just enough light so that I could see the empty pews.  Where was everybody?  I looked forward again, we were about to exit out the back of the church.

For some reason I was reminded of Space Mountain, I felt like I was about to be shot out of a tube into the darkness and I wasn’t entirely wrong.  I walked through the door and found myself engulfed in black.  No light was coming into this room off the street; all the windows were completely covered.  But I also quickly became aware that the room was packed with people.  I knew I had to make my way through the crowd to the other side of the room, the room wasn’t really all that big, but  I started to feel a bit panicked that I would get lost and never find my way through the throng of people.  All I could do was keep my eyes fixed on the faint white outline of Andrew’s robe.  I had to fight back the urge to reach out and grab his hand.  Forgetting that I needed only to cross a single room I started to wonder why we were all expected to make our own way through.  Finally, after what seemed like forever I made through.  A group of us formed a barrier as the first light was lit, we then moved aside to let everyone else witness the lighting of the Paschal candle, and then slowly but surely the light began to spread as everyone began to light their candles.  I didn’t have a candle but I could see by the light of those around me.

 I was reminded of a dream I had, where I found myself looking into the darkness but when I turned around there were rows upon rows of people in white robes lit up by the candles in their hands.  They stood there, neither moving nor speaking, and I turned back to the darkness expectantly.  Something was about to happen, judgment perhaps.  I didn’t have a candle then either.  

Whitewash

She moved through her apartment in a systematic fashion.  As she went she picked books up off the floor and placed them on the shelves.  Bits of trash like old fast food sandwich wrappers and plastic coke bottles and crumpled up napkins were thrown in the trash.  She moved through the studio apartment slowly but deliberately, clearing one space at a time.  It felt as if nothing was in its place and as the clutter and disorder grew so did her anxiety levels.  Hating it as much as she did, one would think she would have prevented it from ever getting this far, but it was always like this, never too bad, but always on the brink of being unlivable.  When she is out in the world she thinks to herself, today I will take care of this; today will be a new day.  Soon though the energy evaporates and she sits at her desk looking into the internet to find something to distract her from truly facing reality.  And the day winds up not being so new, and like her surroundings it sits on the brink of being unlivable.

Today though she is determined, and as trash finds its way into the bin and dirty clothes are put in the hamper she starts to feel a sense of control, a sense that life may actually be manageable after all.  Eventually the clutter is cleared away and she is able to wipe down her desk and her tiny kitchen counter and she thinks about stories where people whitewash the walls and floors and she wonders what whitewash is, but pictures a room that is clean and bright and she wants to be there in that whitewashed room where the sun comes through the windows and the air is quiet and fresh like it is on after a heavy rain.

Whitewash is not an option, and the room does not get any direct sunlight, but she tries her best to give the place a fresh feeling. 

Finally, after several hours of work she stands in the middle of a room that has been cleaned.  She stares at the clutter free desk, the dresser with jewelry boxes and small leather bound books, placed in a way that is aesthetically pleasing and yet not contrived, she looks at her perfectly made bed, and she feels calm.  She does not want to move.  She wishes she could just leave it as it is, never pull the chair out or open a drawer.  Everything is so perfectly ordered, to move would be to risk disorder, confusion, anxiety about the unknown.  But she knows that she must move; she knows that disorder must be risked for anything great to be realized.  It seems as if for her to do anything she must accept the eventuality of chaos.  But in that moment standing in her ordered apartment the chaos is pushed back, if only for a second, and potential is realized.  

Day 6 - Tomorrow

I wonder what tomorrow holds.  Or does it hold anything at all?  So often today is the day for over indulging, shirking responsibilities and just getting by while tomorrow is filled with potential to abandon all the bad habits, to get the reading done, to start or finish that project.  The problem with tomorrow is that it is always a day away.  But still I plan and scheme and imagine what wonders tomorrow will bring while I let today waste away.  Tomorrow can be anything or nothing.  It will probably be no different than today, but still tomorrow has a potential, a magic of things unrealized. 

Tomorrow is filled with adventure.  Tomorrow I will go to the zoo; I will howl with the wolves and come face to face with a gorilla when it escapes its pen.  It won’t hurt me, it will place its palm against mine and we will look into each other’s eyes and understand each other. 

Tomorrow I will meet a man in a coffee shop.  He will be an archaeologist and will tell me about how he spent his summer on an island in the Mediterranean where he uncovered ancient civilizations and had profound conversations with other scholars as they drank whiskey and watched the sun set: gold, violet, and rose.

Tomorrow I will discover a charming little restaurant.  It will serve Coquilles St. Jacques and Key lime pie made from scratch.  In the evenings couples will dance to torch songs sung by an Edith Piaf impersonator. 

Tomorrow I will lay down in the grass and fall asleep with the sun shining on my face.  I will wake up with dozens of butterflies resting on my arms and legs, and when I move I will watch them take flight and my soul will take flight with them.

I cannot know for sure what tomorrow holds.  Tomorrow could be breath taking.  It could be a day of profound understanding, or the lynchpin on which my life turns and heads in an entirely new direction.  Tomorrow could be the first day of the rest of my life or my last day on earth.  Tomorrow could be anything or just another today, filled with perfunctory responsibilities and meaningless busy work. 

Day 5 - stress

It is difficult trying to find something to write about.  I don’t have any story or particular topic in mind to discuss, this makes doing 20 minutes truly difficult and it means this post will be more of a journal entry than some form of creative writing.  But I really do want to try and make writing 20 minutes a day a priority.  So far I haven’t been so very successful.

This post might not be particularly interesting because I have decided to talk about the stress I have been experiencing these past few days.  It all started on Wednesday after I took my ethics test.  Right after I took the test I felt okay about it, but as the day went on I let myself get more and more worried about how I did on the exam.  My dreams became very strange on account of my stress.  Usually when I dream I don’t dream about things that happened in the previous day.  Usually it takes my mind quite some time to process things and incorporate them into my dreams.  For instance if I were to watch an episode of Walking Dead I am not likely to dream about zombies.  It actually took watching the whole first season over a couple of days for me to have zombie dreams, and even then the zombie dream came days after I had watched the show.  Anyway, Wednesday and Thursday night I had dreams that were directly influenced by the previous day’s activities.  On Wednesday I learned that a going away party had been thrown for one of the women who worked for the school and I had not received an invitation about it.  Now to be fair, the invite only went out to the staff and faculty, not to the student body.  Also, at lunch on Wednesday a fellow student, who is about to get married, showed me pictures she had on her iphone of wedding dresses.  With that information my mind created an anxiety dream where I walk in on a party where everyone is dressed up.  All the guys were in tuxes and all the women were in big puffy white dresses.  I was dressed in jeans and realized I didn’t have time to get a white dress so I could join in the festivities. 

The next day I took a nap in the afternoon and dreamed of exactly the thing that had caused me stress during the day.  I dreamed I couldn’t go to a friend’s birthday party because I had a prior engagement at my field education site.  In actuality, I was late to a surprise party because of a service at my field ed. site, but I didn’t miss the whole thing.  The point is that my subconscious had decided to stop being particularly creative.

The next night the dreams got even more direct and I dreamt that I got my exam back and at first it said 95 percent on the top but the 95 quickly morphed into a 55 percent and stayed that way.  I woke up convinced that I had flunked my exam. 

It was really strange how badly I had stressed myself out on account of this test.  My jaw is only now recovering from the flair up of TMJ I had.  It was at the point on Thursday where my jaw wouldn’t close right and the muscle hurt constantly.  In addition to this I was having stomach trouble, extreme fatigue, and I felt like my hair was falling out. 

It turns out I did fine on the test, but the stress was seriously overwhelming.

Anyway, sorry this post is so utterly pointless.  

Day 4 - My first concert

In 1986 - when I was in 3rd grade - I went to my first rock concert.  I remember this and a couple surrounding events pretty well, though not perfectly.  The fact that I remember them at all is kind of telling since the memory I have of my childhood is spotty at best.  But I remember this concert because this concert was special.  It was at the Rosemont Theater in Rosemont Illinois and we had seats in the balcony.  I think the seats were close to the front but I could be remembering it wrong.  Up until this concert I had seen music videos where people jump up and down and scream as the musicians play the music.  This is something that I certainly wanted to do but I remember how strange it felt to do it the first time, I remember how self conscious I was about it, and that my sister had to essentially teach me how to have fun at a concert.  But before that happened, before the music started, we were led in prayer by a Roman Catholic Cardinal, Cardinal Bernardin.  I remembered he prayed, but what I really remember was the thin red rope that I was given to tie around my wrist.  I couldn't tell you why we were given this red string, maybe it was for world peace, maybe it was to end hunger, maybe it was a reminder that we are mortal...I  don't know and it isn't really important.  What is important is that I loved that bracelet and I wore it until it frayed and fell off months later.  After the Cardinal prayed, the opening acts started.  The only one I remember was Herman's Hermits, I was told later that they and the other opening acts were really bad, but at the time I didn't think so, at the time it was just a band who was trying really hard and deserved to be clapped and cheered for if only because they had the guts to get up before thousands of people and sing their hearts out.

But we weren't there for them, we were there for the main act.  We were there to see The Monkees.

By 1986 I had seen most, if not all, of The Monkees television show.  I loved it.  It was weird and absurd and colorful, and I may not have understood half the jokes that were being made but it was filled with dream logic and it made sense to me.  As a side note my tastes have changed very little in this regard.

Now I know that everyone's favorite Monkee was either Davy Jones or Micky Dolenz, and while I loved both of them dearly, my favorite was without a doubt Peter Tork.  I know of course that his character was a bit of a dummy, but there was something kind and sweet about him.

So, the concert.  When The Monkees theme started playing I had no trouble screaming and dancing to the music.  What I remember most about the concert is, of course, Peter talking about being the quiet one, and then singing an awesome song and playing the guitar (I think he took the lead on 'For Pete's Sake', but I can't be certain).  It was an amazing experience and a great first concert for a 9 year old.

I wish I could say it was all great.  The next day I went to school tired and wearing a Monkees t-shirt. This led to me being tormented and made to feel guilty by Mrs. Eegan for having had fun.  To be fair, she hated me and it was, I believe, her mission as an emissary from hell to make my life as unbearable as possible.  She was certainly good at her job, but still, she cannot take away the awesomeness of that evening.  And I only wish my highly selective memory did not in fact include her.

So there it is, The Monkees.  It is sad that Davy Jones has passed, but I feel so blessed that I got to be influenced by that band and their show.  The more I think about it, the more I think they are the reason I like such strange stuff, them and 'The Electric Company.'  But that is a different memory all together.