How Do I Stand Before God & Humanity? Ruminations of a recently retired priest
For the third time I leave a Sunday worship service feeling empty… until I find myself rapt in a radiant Renaissance painting and realize I have been asking the wrong question.
What was I seeking when I drove forty five minutes to Los Alamos, New Mexico to attend a church service last Sunday? What was I seeking the previous week when I attended worship services at two vastly different Santa Fe Episcopal churches?
The driving question continues to evolve. Three weeks ago my question was, “Why should I go to Church?” One week later the question morphed, “To which Church should I go?” Another Sunday rises and I add another Church visit to the data pool still asking, “To which Church should I go?” And for the third time I leave a worship service feeling empty… until I find myself rapt in a radiant Renaissance painting and realize I have been asking the wrong question.
The question is not, “How does this or that place of worship conform to my eccentricities and support the notions of who and how I think I am?”
The question is, “Now that I am a retired priest, stripped of my pious preferences, place and pulpit, how do I stand before God and humanity?”
Leaving the third Sunday service in the big pine country of the Pajarito Plateau I wind my way along marbled canyon walls whose form and rhythm paint a geometric foreground for panoramic glimpses of rugged peaks and table mesas stitched in un-spun-silk cloud threads. Like a bighorn sheep I cling to the steep and rocky terrain while spying on the sweeping grandiosity. My heart beats wide as my unguarded eyes inhale the glory. But there is a wrinkle.
Descending from the birthplace of humanity’s clouded World War II accomplishment (the Manhattan Project), to the rarified foothills of the Sangre de Christo (the Blood of Christ) Mountains, my wrestling mind tilts to overload. Exposed and defenseless, I surrender. I cannot hold the horror and the beauty together. Another narrow turn and peace replaces my emptiness with a flood of tears. Here I am, a bit of 13.8 billion year old star dust, a stroke of Michelangelo’s brush on the famed Sistine Chapel ceiling, an integral part of it all as well as an insignificant smudge. I take it all in and have no part of it.
Again the question evolves. Who is the wee bit of 13.8 billion year old star dust? Who is the painterly brush stroke in ‘The Last Judgment?’ Who is it that attends three worship services squinting with skepticism, “How does this one suit me?” OOOPS
Now that I am a retired priest, stripped of my pious preferences, place and pulpit, how do I stand before God and humanity? Like a bighorn sheep I cling to life’s steep and rocky terrain (wash dishes, fret over the next ‘some assembly required’ project, wait forever on hold for customer service) while keeping my eyes peeled for glimpses of the sweeping grandiosity of God.
Am I not seeking the self same thing as the great crowds of Jews and nonJews, poor and posh, crippled and competent, endowed and inept folks who stopped whatever they were doing, tied their sandals and set out traipsing across the dusty desert to follow a prophet named Jesus two thousand years ago?
Am I not like my ancestors, hoping against hope for freedom from whatever enslaves, dishonors or oppresses me, even when it means walking away from my pious preferences and predilections?
Am I not like my ancestors, compelled by the deepest longing of my heart to swallow my well worn habits, tie on my sandals and set out stumbling through the wilderness?
And, am I not astonished as I listen to Jesus turn the world upside down when, from the heights of the Pajarito Plateau he proclaims; It is not the people who are content, satisfied, cunning, fulfilled, ruthless, successful or admired for their momentous achievements who are blessed. It is not people, such as I am, who declare, “I have answered my call and lived in right relationship with God and my congregation” who are blessed because, believing we have ‘made it’ we long for nothing more.
Dauntless Jesus declares the poor, the mourners, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and the persecuted; all of us who long for something more are blessed. Here is the thing. It is the ache of longing for something more that is the fragrant bud of blessing because blessing is not born of fullness. Blessing blooms in emptiness.
Lacking the means to eat or care for our family, we long for food and shelter, we long for God’s blessing. And Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor, the hungry and the meek.” When brokenhearted we cry in anguish for what is lost, we long for something more, we long for God’s blessing. And Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn.” Even if we are plump with power, privilege and praise, when we feel empty and admit we long for something more, for God’s blessing, Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart,” because blessing is not born of fullness. Blessing blooms in emptiness. (See Jesus’ Litany of Blessings below).
Circling back to my evolving question, “Now that I am a retired priest, stripped of my pious preferences, place and pulpit, how do I stand before God and humanity?” I believe the answer is simple. Naked. Naked and empty handed. Stripped of who and how I have come to experience my self with God and people my hands are empty and my heart longs for something more. All I can do is stand naked before God and stretch out my empty hand to humanity.
Matthew 5:1–12
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
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