Last week, I was walking home for lunch when an ambulance passed me. It moved slowly over the dirt road, not an emergency. Still it’s always disconcerting to have an ambulance on your street. The other side of the spectrum from the old Publishers Sweepstakes commercials when Ed McMahon showed up at someone’s door with seven-foot long check for a million dollars.
The yellow sun was high in the Montana sky. The air was calm. A few slight wisps of clouds against the blue. The spring daffodils on the side of the road were drooping, giving way to summer’s bluebells. As I got closer to home, I watched the paramedics rolling my neighbor out of the ambulance and into his house. My neighbor is a kind, retired physician from Portland. He’d been battling serious illness for over a year. The last weeks were especially hard. It was clear that they were bringing him back to pass away in the comfort of his home surrounded by family.
As I passed their house, I heard a piercing cry. My two-month old son was telling the world that he was ready to be fed again. I pictured usually-smiling mouth stretched in a squall. All of the joy, love, anger, and sadness that life would require wrapped up in that little body.
The juxtaposition between birth and death was striking. Some ancient theologians described the process of life as going out from and then returning to the Divine. Plato and Aristotle both espoused versions of the concept. Christian theologians tied the theory to Jesus’s parable in Luke 19:12 and the King Solomon’s Song of Songs.
I’m writing this in the Salt Lake City airport. Travelers go past. Different races, faiths, and destinations. They recheck their itineraries. Contemplating the challenges and joys that they will face upon reaching their destination. I read the German mystic Meister Eckhart’s statement that “All created things have flowed out of God’s will.” Then imagine the travelers as souls departing the Divine for their time on Earth. Each going to their own personal destination to confront their own individual challenges and joys. Eventually to return, discuss their trip with the heavenly father, and be judged upon their actions.
The yellow sun was high in the Montana sky. The air was calm. A few slight wisps of clouds against the blue. The spring daffodils on the side of the road were drooping, giving way to summer’s bluebells. As I got closer to home, I watched the paramedics rolling my neighbor out of the ambulance and into his house. My neighbor is a kind, retired physician from Portland. He’d been battling serious illness for over a year. The last weeks were especially hard. It was clear that they were bringing him back to pass away in the comfort of his home surrounded by family.
As I passed their house, I heard a piercing cry. My two-month old son was telling the world that he was ready to be fed again. I pictured usually-smiling mouth stretched in a squall. All of the joy, love, anger, and sadness that life would require wrapped up in that little body.
The juxtaposition between birth and death was striking. Some ancient theologians described the process of life as going out from and then returning to the Divine. Plato and Aristotle both espoused versions of the concept. Christian theologians tied the theory to Jesus’s parable in Luke 19:12 and the King Solomon’s Song of Songs.
I’m writing this in the Salt Lake City airport. Travelers go past. Different races, faiths, and destinations. They recheck their itineraries. Contemplating the challenges and joys that they will face upon reaching their destination. I read the German mystic Meister Eckhart’s statement that “All created things have flowed out of God’s will.” Then imagine the travelers as souls departing the Divine for their time on Earth. Each going to their own personal destination to confront their own individual challenges and joys. Eventually to return, discuss their trip with the heavenly father, and be judged upon their actions.
- Did you remember the reason for your trip?
- Did you stay true to that purpose?
- Did you follow the signs and teachings that were sent to guide you?
- How did you act when confronted with the adversities of life?
- How did you serve your fellow human beings?
Anyone contemplating how they would respond to those questions should be filled with trepidation. Human existence is by definition cloaked in failings and sin. We do the best that we can, knowing it can never truly be enough.
However, the words of Psalm 145 give comfort. "The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love. The Lord is good to all, compassionate to every creature." Psalm 145:8-9
The return to the Divine may be terrifying, but it will be more filled with joy and love than anything we can imagine.
However, the words of Psalm 145 give comfort. "The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love. The Lord is good to all, compassionate to every creature." Psalm 145:8-9
The return to the Divine may be terrifying, but it will be more filled with joy and love than anything we can imagine.
No comments:
Post a Comment