Monday, November 23, 2020 (today’s lectionary)
A place in time
When John the Revelator wrote, he wrote about what he saw and heard. As in much of the Bible, the particulars stand out.
I looked, and there was the lamb.
I heard a sound from heaven.
Time and space become moments and place. Universals become particular, and the more concrete and beautiful, the better. This is the stuff memories and myths are made of. When I hear a sermon I recall the stories, the framework on which the preacher hangs his ideas. And words matter most when my times with God are defined (liturgy) or unsettled (prayers in tongues maybe?).
I heard the sound of rushing water or a loud peal of thunder, like that of harpists playing their harps.
When I think of a person I generally think of their handshake, or their eyes, or how they smile.
Are we all that way, seized by particulars and held by them? And do we claim our place based on that? Here’s what Walter Brueggemann said, beginning a book on land:
Place is a space which has historical meanings, where some things have happened which are now remembered and which provide continuity and identity across generations. Place is space in which important words have been spoken which have established identity, defined vocation and envisioned destiny. Place is space in which vows have been exchanged, promises have been made, and demands have been issued …
Place is also a protest against an uncompromising pursuit of space. It is a declaration that our humanness cannot be found in escape, detachment, absence of commitment, and undefined freedom … A pursuit of space may be an escape from history, but yearning for a place is a decision to enter history with an identifiable people in an identifiable pilgrimage. (Brueggeman, The Land: The Place as Gift, Promise and Challenge in Biblical Faith, p. 4)
Give me some space! I bet we’ve all thought and sometimes said just those words. And also, “I need a place to land, a place to stand, a place to start from.” I’ve said that too, lots of times. And with the caveat that he’s still the sole owner, God grants both these gifts to all his kids.
The Lord’s are the earth and its fullness, the world and those who dwell in it. He founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers. Who can ascend the mountain of the Lord, and who may stand in his holy place?
Climb to the top of a lonely mountain. Walk a quarter mile and stand in the middle of a sun-filled yellow wheat field. Paddle a kayak over wave after wave along the shore to a rocky canal into a still, blue lagoon.
In Kentucky near the Abbey of Gethsemani I walked into a field of canola, yellow flowers in the spring, not far from Thomas Merton’s hermitage. I sat down and wrote awhile before going back to sit in the rocker on Merton’s porch. But that night I visited the local pharmacy, because my eyes were stinging and tearing and I could barely close them. Oh, well. I got some space, and made a place. And I remember that day with joy.
He shall receive a blessing from the Lord, a reward from God his savior. Stay awake!
(Revelation 14, Psalm 24, Matthew 24, Luke 21)
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