Opening Sentences, Parting Words

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I may not be able to judge a book by its cover, but the words that come before its first period often determine whether I will take a book home or put it back on the shelf. A surprising turn of phrase or an intriguing question are enough to keep me reading. Sometimes the first sentence stands on its own, other times it takes some explaining. Somehow, it leads me to the last few words and the final punctuation mark: period, question mark, exclamation point.

The last words in a book are the door out of its world and back into my own. I don’t read them until I read all the words that came before them – why spoil the surprise? But I do like to go back and read the first sentence again before I put the book away, seeking again the words that began the whole adventure. Do the opening sentence and the final one have anything in common? Could the story in between be something other than what it was?

Sacred or secular, stories begin and end. But the best don’t really end because they have taken residence in the story that is my life. Over the next few weeks, I’ll share some of my favorite beginnings and endings. I hope you enjoy them. Perhaps, if you are feeling bold, you will share some of your own favorites…

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…

…But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. John 1:1, John 21:25

Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain…

…As Mo had said, writing stories is a kind of magic, too. Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

In those days, there were prophets in Israel…

…Warm and gold the sunlight lay over Greece. Robert Nathan, Jonah

Mickey Cray had been out of work ever since a dead iguana fell from a palm tree and hit him on the head…

…”Me, too, Lucille.” Carl Hiaasen, Chomp

In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters…

…And Joseph died, being one hundred ten years old; he was embalmed  and placed in a coffin in Egypt. Genesis 1:1, 50:26

Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away…

…”Have a carrot,” said the mother bunny. Margaret Wise Brown, The Runaway Bunny

If you are interested in stories with happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book…

…The car drove farther and farther away, until Justice Strauss was merely a speck in the darkness, and it seemed to the children that they were moving in an aberrant – the word “aberrant” here means “very, very wrong, and causing much grief” – direction. Lemony Snickett, The Bad Beginning

The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place; he made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who testified to the word of God and to the testimony of Jesus Christ, even to all that he saw…

The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen. Revelation 1:1, 22:21

 

Bibliography:

The Holy Bible, NRSV

Brown, Margaret Wise; The Runaway Bunny (New York: HarperCollins Publishers), 1942

Funke, Cornelia; Inkheart (New York: Scholastic Inc), 2003

Hiassen, Carl; Chomp (New York: Alfred A. Knopf), 2012

Nathan, Robert; Jonah (New York: Robert M. Mcbride & Company), 1925

Snicket, Lemony; The Bad Beginning “A Series of Unfortunate Events” (New York: HarperCollins Publishers), 1999

I’M NOT DRUNK: I’m avoiding potholes

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I read this off the bumper of an SUV a few days back. Living in New England, I’ve lived these words. Late December through March involves a lot of swerving around frost heaves and craters that could swallow a Vespa. On some of the back roads in town, potholes are a year round constant.

I don’t know where the driver with this bumper sticker lives, whether he or she chose these words or if they were a gift. But it struck me today that there’s a certain sadness to them if they extend beyond seasonal driving adventures. If I’m so busy avoiding the bumps and ditches on this road of life that I’m mistaken for a drunk, perhaps I’m spending too much time focused on the pavement (or lack thereof) and not enough time looking out the window at all life has to offer.

Lord, give me eyes to see your glory. Amen.

Make Time To Pray

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They are on bumper stickers and church message boards everywhere. But last night I saw them shining down from another place: Collision and Auto Repair of Carver. I pass the sign at least once a week. I am always thankful for the reminder, but until last night I hadn’t connected the business with an exhortation to pray.

I’ve seen good death and painful death working in a hospital. I’ve seen pain and suffering endured with and without grace. I’ve stopped at a few accidents to offer pastoral care. For doctors, nurses, EMT’s, chaplains it’s all part of the job. But it’s also part of the job for those who tow the cars away from the accident, and for those who repair them. Why this never occurred to me until last night, I cannot say.

To offer up a prayer, and ask that others do the same. From people who see the wreckage and work to repair it, this is no glib request. Life and death come to their doorstep every day. Lord bless them as they have blessed me with wise words and deep commitment.

Fortune Cookie Truth

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I am not naturally honest. I am so sometimes by chance.

Fortune Cookie, Way Ho’s

I pulled this fortune out of its cookie a couple of years back. It’s been living in the ceramic bowl that holds my flash drives ever since. Sometimes it strikes me funny when I read it, other times it strikes a little too close to home. In either case, it’s true.

I’m not dishonest in the sense of lying or cheating; I do my best to act in good faith. But I doubt most people behind me in the grocery line have any clue who I am, and I don’t have any idea who they are. I don’t attempt to connect with everyone in a meaningful way. I’m not intentionally avoiding anyone, but an honest encounter takes courage, trust, and energy. It’s exhausting to swim beyond the socially acceptable shallow waters and head for the depths. If I saw every person for who he or she truly is, a sacred child of God, I doubt I’d get through the morning without tears of joy and compassion. If I allowed even strangers to see in my faulty life the hand of God, what might come of it? Such encounters don’t happen very often outside the small circle of family and friends.

But every once in a while, a random encounter as I open my post office box or return my grocery cart. A glance at the man with a red beard or a quick hello with the spiky haired girl stuns me with a glimpse of true holiness. By chance, I have eyes to see and ears to hear. I see my life and this world for what they are: sacred, blessed, and much more than enough.

One Way?

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It was on a sedan. I don’t think I would’ve noticed it, but the car was driving past the One Way sign posted on Sawyer Avenue – an One Way bumper sticker driving past a One Way traffic sign. What are the odds of that happening?

Sawyer hasn’t always been a one way street. When I moved to town fourteen years ago, cars went up and down this short, park-on-one-side-only connection between Main and High Streets. Residents could turn either way when they left their driveways until the possibility of future fender benders prompted the new directional limitation. There hadn’t actually been any accidents, but their potential was too persuasive to the local officials in charge of such things. For the last eight years, people who call it home can drive up their hilly street, but not down. For better or for worse, uniformity in direction rules.

The past few months I’ve had and heard many conversations about the state of churches, denominations, traditions, and faiths. There’s a shift in the religious world, at least in my Christian corner of it. Fearful voices demand going back to the good old days (read: double down on what is unique about a particular tradition and reject anything that moves in a different direction) or auctioning off any beliefs or practices that could be considered objectionable (read: dilute until there’s nothing even remotely different or possibly in disagreement with any other tradition or faith). Who knows what kind of collisions might occur if anyone takes their faith in a different direction or holds to an ancient, particular religious practice? Uniformity of direction, either enforced separation or the adoption of boring, shallow, anemic version of faith, is a One Way solution. Sure, it may head off future collisions of beliefs and practices. It may be easier to control how individuals and communities live out their faith. But it may very well take away a vital link from our faith homes to what’s going on in this great big world.

I’d rather risk the two way traffic, moving with care and consideration for those going in either direction. I’ll have to yield sometimes, letting others get where they are going ahead of me. Still, it’s a marvelous sight I’ll see while I wait: people coming from different directions, meeting and passing where my home meets the world.

 

Truth Decay

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Read the Bible: It prevents Truth decay

It’s on the sign at the small house church in Carver, and I see it when I drive on 58.

I agree. Reading the Bible keeps me honest about who I am, what’s in my heart, and how I live my life in the embrace of God and neighbor. Scripture is a door that the Spirit draws me through, out of my small and self-centered world into the presence of the God who loves and values every creature including me. Scripture is an invitation to pray with all those who offered their lives to God in every time and place, and a reminder that others will receive the same invitation long after my passing from this blessed life. The Bible is a glimpse of the Son of God walking down a dusty road, a chance to touch the hem of his robe, and a place to sit at his feet.

I disagree. False living and believing isn’t a cavity that Biblical enamel prevents. I can quote scripture like the devil, supporting my cause and inflicting pain on the world. Truth isn’t a fact that can be memorized. Scripture isn’t a sword I brandish when I feel threatened by opinions that challenge my own. I can read the Bible to convince myself that my truth is THE TRUTH. If I’m a bit more sophisticated, I can read the Bible to justify my particular interpretation of scripture and discredit the interpretation of another.

If I had the letters, I’d stop add six more words to the billboard:

Pilate asked him, “What is truth?” John 18:38

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I Had A Life, But My Job Ate It

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It was on the Jeep in front of me, read at a red light on Cranberry Highway. White letters on a blue background, on the bottom of the back door. When I saw it, I was thinking about the calls and emails I had to make today – trustee matters, first steps in a new library/school project, reminders for tomorrow’s meeting.

Earlier in the drive, it was thoughts of tomorrow’s Bible study: Hannah’s story. Before that, writing the mental list of things that need to be done in the learning garden before a service day brings a dozen or more high school learners into it.

I don’t think any of these tasks eat away at my life. I am happy with the time I spend on and at work. It adds something to my life, and it’s a way to serve God and neighbor. But I don’t have a forty hour a week job, or a fifty or sixty hour a week job. Or two jobs to keep a roof overhead. I have the time and energy to work for what I value rather than what pays bills. It has the disadvantage of no money, but the great blessing of time well spent.

If I were to put this bumper sticker on my car, I’d have to change it:

I Had A Job, But My Life Ate It

Fairy Tale Life

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Confused and sad, he gazed with sick eyes into the many angry, disturbed, and spiteful faces, and in each one of them, he saw a hidden charm and a spark of affection that glimmered from beneath the hate and distortion. All these people had loved him at one time, and he had not loved any of them. Now he begged their forgiveness and sought to remember something good about each one of them.
Herman Hesse, “Augustus,” The Fairy Tales of Hermann Hesse, Jack Zipes, trans; New York: Bantam Books, 1995, p. 95

It’s “hell hath no fury” from the perspective of the scorner, not the scorned. But now Augustus is aware of the damage he’s done – the turning point in a fairy tale about a mother’s anxious wish, a godfather’s patience, and the cost of becoming pure of heart in a life of excess wealth, power, and ease. If you have the time for this twenty-six page tale, I hope you read it.

This is Hesse’s answer, or at least one of his answers, to what happens when every wish is granted, nothing must be earned, and there are no consequences to cruel, hurtful actions. It begins when Augustus’ mother says, “I wish that everyone will have to love you.”
Augustus grows up to be a selfish, cruel, and desperately lonely man because of this wish. Surrounded by everything he could possible want, he enjoys and appreciates none of it. Beloved by everyone, he feels no love. He lives the opposite of Saint Francis’ prayer: is it any wonder Augustus’ life is a living hell?

Love isn’t a fairy tale wish. It’s the face of God and the birthright of every living thing. It cannot be killed and it’s available in endless supply. But it’s only found in sharing with another – a person, animal, plant, whatever. Even in solitude, it’s shared with God. If Augustus’ mother had wished for her son to seek such love and offer such love to others, could his life be anything but splendid and holy?

If I seek such love and offer such love to others, could my life be anything but splendid and holy? Could yours?

Daily Bread

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Give us this day our daily bread. The Lord’s Prayer

It’s been a hectic five days. A drive to Pennsylvania, a Microtel overnight near the airport, and toting my older son’s bedding and clothes into his new freshman dorm room on day one and two. A 320 mile drive home, a short night and a day of laundry and gardening on day two and three. Day four was a three hour trek to New Hampshire for a visit with my Arizona residing brother and a night in my sister’s home. Then came the family dinner out and the drive back to Wareham with my younger son on day five – all this done just in time to get ready for the beginning of his high school years tomorrow. After that, with a little planning and luck, my family life will return to its usual routine.

Driving home last night, I asked my son what he’d like for his first school lunch: a tuna sandwich on regular bread, cheddar goldfish, homemade chocolate chip cookies, fruit and a full water bottle. After so many days on the road and so many good meals in a variety of restaurants, with his brother living away from home for the first time and a new school year beginning, he just wanted familiar food.

I love trying new restaurants and spending time with siblings who live too far away to see every day. I am happy for my older son beginning his adult life in a new, exciting place. It’s time for my younger son to move from childhood to adulthood. These are blessings I thank God for every day. But it’s all happening at once, and it’s tiring. For that reason, I am grateful for a return to putting healthy, familiar food on my dining table: it’s a nourishing and creative act that feeds the body and restores the soul. Sometimes, the literal take on a prayer is the one that sustains.

Fire and Ice, part 2

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But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

[Robert Frost, Fire and Ice, part 2]

I can’t say that I’ve ever destroyed anything or anyone in passionate fury. I’ve never been hijacked by such intense emotions. Crimes of passion, destruction and death delivered in the heat of the moment – I have been spared such fire.

I can’t say the same for ice. Every so often I’ve felt calculating, frozen fingers squeeze my heart, wringing out whatever compassion lay within it. No seeing red, just a clarity of thought without love or sympathy. Plans for destruction, the steps and the cost, so simple to take from idea to action. It’s the closest to hate I’ve ever been, and closer than I’d like to be again. It is the closest thing I have to a fatal flaw, this dispassionate and calculating persona. I’ve never unleashed it, but I’ve been tempted. What stopped me? I can’t say, exactly. A small voice that refused to be frozen into silence or the Spirit blowing warmth into my frosted soul. Whatever it was, I still get on my knees every so often and thank God for its love and sanity.

Save us from the time of trial. The Lord’s Prayer

Photo on 2015-02-12 at 08.27