October 15, 2000

Douglas S. Long

North Raleigh United Church

Every morning, I get up early enough to read the paper. I start with the first page… and I read all the way through to the comics, and I stop. I always hope that there will be at least one comic strip that actually amuses me. Dilbert is my current best hope. I read it last.

In truth, I've always liked comic strips that led you to do a little thinking…

Peanuts, in its prime, Calvin and Hobbes, and there was a time that Ziggy, that chunky, big nosed, bald headed character, was at the top of my list the comic charts.

Ziggy would occasionally lumber into the realm of philosophy.

I remember one particular Ziggy strip from years ago:

...frame after frame shows him climbing a treacherous mountain. He finally reaches the top, where he finds the hermit whose wisdom he is seeking.

"O great wiseman," he utters... "tell me the secret of life."

To which the hermit replies...

"Life is doin’stuff... as opposed to death, which is not doin’ stuff."

(Hard to argue with that, and it begs this question… Are we doin' anything? )

How many times, though, have we been presented with that 'isolated wise one' scene?

… in literature... in the comics... on commercials... (An advertisement from a couple of years ago comes to mind in which the hermit claims "life is a sport... drink it up." More deep secrets.)

But the motif is all too familiar...

...the hermit who lives in rugged isolation in order to get at, figure out, discern, meditate upon,

...the very essence of the meaning of life...

...the idea of the wiseman, or woman... (actually in the myth of our culture it’s usually a man, more specifically a religious hermit)... but anyway, the myth hinges on the fact that the wise one is aged, exotic, and in a far off place.

I wonder though, if knowledge is not to be sought closer to home…. much closer. Frederick Buechner says the proper way to understand life is to listen very carefully to our own living.

"Listen to your life," he advises, "see it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because, in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace."

********

I had arrived on time to pick up Jessica, my daughter, and her friend, who were floating a section of the Neuse River this past Friday afternoon---

I had arrived on time… but they had not. By my calculations they were 4 and 1/2 hours into a trip that could be done, with moderate paddling, in 3 hours. I had specifically arranged the pick-up time so Jessica and her friend would be the one waiting for me. The best of plans… It was a river run that Jessica had taken several times already this summer… so, they'd be here momentarily. … but now, sitting by the water's edge, I found myself with some time to kill.

Time to kill. (Life to squander? …Doin' stuff? …Doin' nothing.)

It was a beautiful afternoon, a drop dead gorgeous day, with clear blue skies, you remember, just two days ago, bright warm sunshine , temperature in the mid- 70's. Perfect.

I sat on a rock outcropping just downstream from the bridge on Buffaloe Road. The cars on the bridge had begun to slow and traffic backed up in the 5:30 rush hour. I occasionally heard the voice of an occupant of one of the cars as it passed, window to their private world open.. How interesting that the bridge blocked the engine noise, but the voices, from a higher source, threw themselves over the railing and down to me. I pondered it briefly… listening to these persons who had not a clue that their voices carried like amplifiers over the water's surface. Amusing myself with musings… I had time to kill.

On the one hand I was enjoying the beauty of the day. On the other, my anxiety surrounding Jessica's whereabouts was growing. Gorgeous day, gorgeous stretch of river. …somewhere upon which my daughter and her friend were upstream.

I had an extra kayak on my car parked behind me- but no paddle. Not good thinking.

Denise waited for us back at the house. We were to be there by 6:00, but I had no phone to call her either. I could only wait. So… I waited.

I watched the wonders of a pilleated woodpecker, flaming red crown blazing in the autumn sun, … saw a kingfisher in flight, a turtle basking on a distant log. Beautiful. All beautiful. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof…"

My mind swung back to Jessica… Where in this beautiful world was she? Had she, in a joyous moment of exuberance flung herself happily off of a rock (as she is apt to do) and into the river, which surprised her with an unseen boulder just beneath its welcoming surface? Had her friend somehow managed to break an arm?

A mind may be a terrible thing to waste… but an active mind can also be a terrible thing to entertain. Why, oh why, had I ever watched the movie "Deliverance."?

Only 15 minutes late… I had some time to kill.

From my rock perch I gazed into the water and saw, for the first time in that now lengthening wait, not the river at all, but the clear reflection of all my surroundings upon it. There was a tree behind me which hung over the bank and my head enough to, in the water's reflection, block a portion of the reflection of the trees on the other side, all of which blocked a portion of the blue sky above, which I was observing by looking below… in the water's edge.

How full this picture! I began counting the different aspects of this moment I could focus on-

The water, the reflection in it, the different levels of focus- the near tree, the far trees, the sky… (all in the reflection). There were other levels of focus…

…my own breathing,

…my mind as I was contemplating this,

…the synapses of nerve and electrical impulse.

I thought of Plato's cave… of the commonality of my experience at this moment with all those who have preceded me in the human journey who have had similar moments of magic and mystery and sacred solitude-

And, as always, an occupational hazard, I thought of my next sermon… of this time, in that time… even as I now remember that time in this time… All of life, in every moment.

But I did think of this time. I needed to work on my sermon. Why not now?

I thought of the baptism of Kathryn. I pictured the joy and fullness of Brian and Jennifer, and of their wider family… saw the others of you that have recently been blessed with children… I thought of Hannah last week… of Mason who will be baptized Thanksgiving… I thought of all these newborns, gifts to us all.

And, just as poignantly, thought of you, Kathy… struggling with a terminally ill mother… and Suzanne, your father is dying… and Jean Bawden and her father. Linda, I thought of your sister-in-law and your family's loss.

I thought of how many of us are in that 'middle generation' caring for both our children and, in varying degree, of our parents. I thought of the circle of life.

…and I thought of Victoria, who has come face to face with the reality this week that she is mortal. What a shocking blessing that is.

What a gift life is… What a gift time… What a wonder, not to be squandered.

We don't need to climb a mountain to find a holy hermit.

"Listen to your life," says Buechner, "see it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because, in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace."

...All moments are key moments, and life itself is grace, that even in the most routine and ordinary day there is about our living all the mystery to be learned, reflected on, assimilated and marveled at... in our work, with our families, celebrations, holidays, angers and frustrations, laughter and love...

We don’t have to travel to the rugged mountain top to discern the secrets of life’s meaning...

...It’s all around us and within us in all of living...

... if we listen carefully...

If we listen carefully, everything speaks to us of the holy centrality of life itself.

I was still on the water's edge.. waiting for my daughter… when I promise you I was more full of all these thoughts than I can articulate…

…when at that very moment… I am not making a bit of this up… I heard tires squeal at an intersection just beyond my seeing, blocked by the trees on the far side of the river. The screeching tires were followed by the unmistakable sound of metal crashing into metal.

Just like that- just that quickly- with no expectation at all- life, for persons that may have just crossed the bridge above me… life had changed. How drastically I do not know.

All the beauty around me was momentarily paralyzed. My mind raced to the discord in our world,

…of the USS Cole, of why we would have a ship of that magnitude in the Middle East to begin with, of military might and the posture of war.

…Discord, destruction, and the ugliness of hate. Of young sailors, men and women, swept away forever.

…I thought of your presence with us this morning, Steve. …Of People of Faith Against the Death Penalty. ¹  …of the society we make up which still eliminates fellow humans from existence… not cars crashing accidentally, but premeditated and carefully deliberated destruction of lives… forever. Forever.

…And I thought of other discord, pale in comparison of the prior two, but fresh on my heart and mind, …of recently being called non-Christian for including all people at God's table.

When does the hate ever stop? (Thank you, Nancy.)When does the discord end?

The Genesis account, of the essence of life and human history… begins with God and chaos.

It is not an account of creation 'ex nihilo,' creation 'out of nothing,' but God ordering the present chaos. Everett Fox, captures the poetry of the Hebrew text in his translation... (Schocken Bible)

At the beginning of God’s creating

of the heaven’s and the earth,

when the earth was wild and waste,

darkness over the face of the Ocean,

rushing-spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters--

...the earth was wild and waste... chaos.. and God, rushing spirit, breathed order from the discord... Life.. Creation...

How is it, we wonder, on this day that we have baptized Kathryn Ann, …how is it, we wonder from the disorder and spiritual imperfection of our own lives that something as perfect and beautiful as a new-born baby comes?

We participate with God in creation.

I say an infant in its purity and innocence is the very image of God... the creation story all over... order from the chaos... the image of God made flesh... made fresh.

Where were you 2 years ago Kathryn?

.........Silly question? ....I don’t think so.

Who brought your being into existence?

Where did you come from, little one?

Only a year or so ago you were not... yet now you share being as fully as

any of us... younger

and more innocently, but all the same.... alive!

Life… is a gift.

Abraham Heschel, the eminent Jewish philosopher said it simply, but oh so profoundly...

Just to be is a blessing.

Just to live is holy.

If I had Kathryn here with me now I’d hold her up for you to see... the very image of God... pure and sweet, and incredibly vulnerable... but also soon capable of choice, creative, free!

In time that image will tarnish, fade beneath a tough skin of independence and dirt from wandering in the gardens of freedom... but the image is there... still... still within each of us... no matter how thick the skin...

Incredible gift, Life… to all the children of God.

I was still on the water's edge, with no paddle and no phone, I listened as the sirens came and went. I was waiting for my daughter… who, though more frustrating than ever, had become more precious than ever,… as had the time that I was no longer killing.

It was now 6:00 p.m. 30 minutes past our appointed meeting time. My time was transformed into prayer. …for people in a car I could hear but not see, for sailors caught in systems of hate, for death row inmates caught in systems of inequity… I prayed for infants with all of life ahead of them and parents of some of you with most of their lives now spent, and I prayed for you and me…

…and I celebrated when, 10 minutes later, in the distance upstream, I saw two kayaks round the bend.

Just to be is a blessing.

Just to live is holy.

And here we are… miracle of miracle… here we are.

Amen.

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