ACHY, BREAKY HEART

 An Hasidic folk tale tells the story of a Rabbi who is asked the following question by a pupil concerning Deuteronomy 6:6 -- "And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart." "Why," asked the pupil," is it said this way? Why are we told to put these words upon our heart? Why are we not told to place them in our heart?"

To this the Rabbi answered that it is not within man's power to place divine teachings directly in his heart. "All we can do is place them on the surface of the heart so that when the heart breaks, they will drop in."

God never forces himself upon us. God makes himself aware of his presence. And that presence bears upon us. But there is never any forcefulness on God's part to make his will and his ways our will and our ways. God is simply like the lover who hangs around waiting for us to open up, or, in the Rabbi's words, for our heart to open up.

But as the Rabbi intimates, our heart often only opens up to God when it has been broken. A heart that does not ache, that feels no pain, is not likely to be open to anyone, even God.  But where there is an ache, there is an opening. The pain is symptomatic of a deeper hurt. But to get to that deeper hurt, we first have to acknowledge the ache, the pain, in our heart. And that is not as easy as it may seem or sound. For if you are like me, you and I are very adept at refusing to admit that we hurt, whatever the hurt. Yes, we like sympathy; but we have also been trained to gut it out.

Admitting that we are in pain, that we ache and hurt, is a sign of weakness, so we are told. But that is not true. It is a sign of strength. It is only in our weakness that we are made strong. It is only through our recognition that we can't go it alone or do it alone or even suffer alone that we become strong. Jesus cried.

Yes, even the Son of God had to have his heart broken -- by disciples who would rather sleep than support him in his hour of need, by family that would rather laugh at his "foolishness" than love him for who he was, by friends who deserted him rather than desired to be with him at the last. And into that broken heart came the strength and love of the Father.

For strength comes from not just inner fortitude but from others. But for others to get into our hearts and lives, we have to open up to them. And that opening comes in and through the heart. Others, like God, lie on the surface of our heart, waiting for an opening, even if only a slight crack. And when the crack appears, they rush in to help us ease the ache and pain.

It is only when we finally realize that we need another that we open up. Why we wait until we are in so much pain to do so is beyond me. But we are in charge. We control our heart.  It is comforting to know that God and others are hanging around, if you will, waiting for the opening in our hearts. But that seems such a waste, doesn't it, especially when they could already be in there.

IMAGING SIN

My old English professor reminded us that whenever we desire to use an analogy, that “an analogy always limps”. In other words, analogies only go so far but they never ever really hit the nail on the head, analogously speaking, of course. Thus, two analogies: one alluded to several blogs back and this one. The former one first.

To liken a community to a jigsaw puzzle is an analogy but one that pretty much holds true, at least in my humble opinion. (You may disagree, of course). For any community to be a community, it must be held together, like a jigsaw puzzle; and when anyone, any piece of that community is not present, it is less of a community. And when each one is tied to others who are tied to others, the stronger that community. In any community to which we belong, therefore, we are all parts of the puzzle, analogously speaking, but, nevertheless, true.

Just as we can image community as a jigsaw puzzle, so, I believe, we can image sin as a brick wall. Image it this way: the world is one solid brick wall and each one of us is a brick in the wall; and, contrary to what Pink Floyd thinks and sings, we are more than “just another brick in the wall.” We are a very important and vital brick in the wall no matter where in that wall/world we find ourselves at any moment in time.

The problem, of course, both when it comes to life itself and, in this instance, sin, we hardly ever understand just how important and vital a brick in the wall each one of us is. That’s the first image: each one of us as a brick in the wall we call the world. Now imagine removing any brick from that wall, any brick anywhere. What happens to that wall? It becomes weaker. It becomes weakest at the point from where the brick was removed. But the whole wall becomes weaker, even at the furthest ends of the wall. It’s sort of a domino effect, to use another analogy.

That’s what sin is like. Sin is selfishness. It is doing what we know will hurt others and even hurt ourselves even if we do not perceive or believe that to be the truth. But it is indeed the truth. The reason why community is weakened is that when we sin, we pull ourselves out of the community and go it and do it our way, a way that is contrary to the health and life of that community.

Whenever we commit a crime, for instance, we hurt the community. We weaken the wall. It happens automatically whether we intended it or not. Not all sins are crimes, of course. But all sins are hurtful. They break down relationships with those around us. They weaken community and they weaken the wall – even to the furthest ends of the wall. For instance, whenever we individually waste resources, or whenever we as small parts of the wall waste resources, others at other parts of the wall (in other words, our world) are affected and affected adversely. We can feed the world on the food we waste.

The world has always been a village: another analogy.  It is even more so today.  None of us, individually or collectively, must ever forget or take for granted how vital we are to the life of the rest of the wall.  We do so, are doing so, at our own and the wall’s peril.

THE BEST DATE NIGHT EVER

Over the years whenever I have done pre-marriage counseling, I have used a tool called “The Pre-marriage Awareness Inventory”.  It is a series of over one hundred questions that randomly deal with issues that confront every couple: new beginnings, conflict, friends, finances, sexual issues, religion and the like. The couple individually completes the inventory and then we discuss the issues that have been raised. I tell them it is not a pass-fail exam but a tool to deal with issues that are now arising or will eventually arise throughout their marriage.

One of the questions asks how often they will go out on a date after they have been married. They are given these choices: “once a week or more”, “twice a month”, “once a month”, and “less than once a month”. The point, of course, is not how often they would take time to be by themselves, especially after the kids are born, but that there is a need to make and take that time on a regular basis.

Although I did not do the pre-marriage counseling for my daughter and her husband, I knew the priest who did the counseling did address this issue. I did, however, doing my “duty” as father of the bride put my two-cent’s worth in when we were talking about their life together after marriage. I stressed the importance of “date night” never really explaining what that meant other than that they needed to get out together on a regular basis, however they defined “regular”.

All this is a long preface to the conversation Tracy, our newly-married daughter, had with her mother. It was a Saturday morning and Tracy called just to check in as she is wont to do. She reported that she and her husband had gone out on a date the night before to Lowe’s. When they returned home, he said to her, “This was the best night ever!” When I heard that, I said to myself, “Really? The best date night ever going to a giant hardware store?” Well, I suppose so.

Yes, Tracy and Da’Mon love their home and are truly homebodies. They’ve spent most of their free time doing things around the house. Thus, it does make sense that going to Lowe’s might be considered a date, certainly from Da’Mon’s point of view. “Might” is the operative word here. Arlena wisely did not ask Tracy how she felt about this “best date night ever”. After all, they did get out of the house together, did they not?

Of course that is precisely the point. Each of us and each couple have to live life as is best for each of us. My assumption is that most people think Arlena and I live a dull and boring life. But it is our life and one with which we are completely happy. If Tracy and Da’Mon want to consider a trip to Lowe’s after a hard week of work a “date”, well then, it is indeed a date. Who am I, who is anyone, to judge?

In fact, I find it rather refreshing. If the question every came up on “Family Feud”, the television show, about “What’s the best place to go on a date?”, I doubt if anyone would respond, “Go to Lowe’s”. That is, of course, assuming that Tracy and Da’Mon were not contestants.

WE’RE ALL A PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

For a dozen years while I was serving in West Virginia I led the Senior High Camp at the Peterkin Conference Center. Every year my staff and I spent about ten days with around 100 high school students teaching them some basic principles of daily Christian living. It was always an exhausting but also exhilarating experience and certainly a privilege.

One year our theme was “Community”. As a way of introducing that theme to the campers, my staff and I, the night before the camp began, put together a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle. As I recall, it was a large forest scene. Once we had the puzzle together, we divided it into ten sections and placed the pieces into envelopes, one for each small group of campers we had formed. Each of us led a small group of about nine or ten.

The next morning when the program began, we gathered in the pavilion and separated into our groups. The task for each group was to put together the pieces they found in their envelope. When all the groups had finished, one person from ach group took the completed puzzle section to the center of the gathering. Then those gathered put together the completed puzzle.

The initial point we wanted to make by this exercise was that it takes many pieces fitted together to make community. Each piece is important and each piece is joined to others. What turned out to be rather providential for us was that one piece in the center of the puzzle turned up missing.  – the point being that until that piece was found and put into place, the community would not be whole. The next day the piece was found and the completed puzzle was kept in a special place and each day we began our sessions gathered around that puzzle.

At the end of the camp at the traditional closing campfire we gave each camper a reminder of what we had been talking and reflecting about over those ten days. What we did was take the puzzle apart, glue sections, about four pieces, together, glue a piece of yarn to it and made a necklace. As we moved from the comfier to the closing Eucharist, we placed a necklace over the head of each camper.

My staff and I each received one as well. I still have mine thirty years later. It is not only a fond memory of that camp long ago, but it still a reminder to me of what it means to be a part of a community, a reminder that each of us is an essential part, that the community is less, is not whole, when we are not part of it, for whatever reason we may not be a part.

Living in community is often puzzling, no pun intended. We often wonder what our part is, how valuable we are, whether anyone in the community would miss us if we were not there, did not take a part, whether they would even care – all kinds of puzzling questions to ponder. In any community – family, church, workplace, neighborhood, etc. – we are all part of the puzzle, an essential, important and vital part. We are tied, connected, to one another and must be if the communities to which we belong are to survive and grow. We must never forget that. I hope those campers from long ago have not. I know I have not and trust I never will.

RETIREMENT

Retirement: what a wonderful word! I wondered what it really means and even if there is a good definition to the notion. My dictionary doesn’t go down that road. It simply says that retirement is the noun for the verb retire. It defines that word this way: “1a leave office or employment, esp. because of age b cause (a person) to do this 2 withdraw; go away; retreat 3 seek seclusion or shelter  4 go to bed”.

Let’s see. I have left office or, rather, left my office at the church. It is empty and ready for my successor to fill it with his books and memorabilia he has been carted around throughout his ministry.  But my new office is filled with what was in my old office. I have not left my office but I am unemployed. No more pay checks coming in; only pension and social security.

And yes, I have retired because of age. It’s not that I am so incapacitated that I can no longer do the ministry required of a priest. It is simply that it was time, time to move on to the next phase of my life, whatever that phase will entail. Part of the joy, and I suspect, the fear in retiring is learning what life will bring once you no longer have a daily ministry to which you have been called to fulfill.

Fortunately, looking at that definition again, no one forced me to retire. The Senior Warden, the Vestry, even the Bishop did not coming calling and say to me, “Bill, it’s time to call it a career.” It was my choice, but it was also time, even if the powers to be never said that it was. It was time, after over 44 years as a priest, to retire from fulltime active ministry and move on with my life.

The second definition of retire is to withdraw, go away, retreat. Well, for better or worse, to the dismay of some, perhaps, I know I am not going away. A vacation now and then, visits to children and grandchildren, hanging out with siblings, yes. Otherwise, you can find me at our home in Cranberry Township. I am not withdrawing from the world, even if that might seem mighty tempting at times. However, I might go on a retreat now and again but never in a retreat-from-the-world mode of existence.

As for seeking seclusion and shelter, personally I had my fill of that many years ago in my twelve years of seminary living. Don’t get me wrong. That was, for me, a wonderful and needed time in my life. The friends I made during that time are like brothers to me because of and in spite of the secluded and sheltered life we had to lead. But that was in a different time and in a very different world than is ours today.

One thing I am looking forward to in retirement is going to bed – whenever I choose, getting up whenever I choose, taking a nap whenever I choose. For me “going to bed” is shorthand for being able, God and health – and my Beloved Wife – willing, to be free to do whatever I want to do: no schedule, no clock, no calendar. Yes, my calendar is already filling up, as all retirees soon discover. But it is being filled with what I choose to place there. All that said, for whatever it is worth, as I look at my clock, I deem that it is now time to take a nap.