Gifts

 

Good Friday morning, good citizens of the cosmos. It's the third day of Hanukkah and the second day of Kwanzaa. It's also the third day of Christmas, being the Feast of St. John, apostle and evangelist, son of Zebedee, one of the Sons of Thunder, and the self-proclaimed "disciple whom Jesus loved."

It is no small thing for me to say that I am still being transformed by the experience of being in his cell - a cave - high above the waters of the island of Patmos where he was exiled. I can't explain the experience, except to say this: Standing there, surrounded by the hard rock, there was no doubt in my mind that this was a "thin place" where he experienced the visions recounted in the Book of Revelation.

It is said that John probably died there, in that cave, an "extremely old" man, the only one of The Twelve who did not die a martyr’s death. Well, not on the cross. But, he was in exile and lived a very sparse existence, alone with his memories and his visions and, perhaps, his faithful scribe Prochorus.

To have been spared that suffering was a gift of sorts, as well as the gift his visions were to The Church. So, perhaps he was, indeed, the "Beloved Disciple," although it's hard for me to think of God doling out or withholding torture and suffering depending on one's status in the "inner circle" of the disciples of Jesus.

I've been thinking a lot, since Christmas Day, about gifts. I am overwhelmed by the generosity of my beloved as well as our friends and neighbors. I'm at a stage in life where I really don't need too many things. Material gifts are lovely and appreciated but my needs are fewer these days.

I'm remembering something Jack Spong repeated that a retired bishop had once said to him. "The older I get, the more deeply I believe but the fewer beliefs I have." That seems to apply to my faith life and lots of other things in my life, across the board.

The things I believe, I believe deeply and strongly and they sustain me. This is most especially true about the sacraments - not so much the sacramental rites but the Two Great Sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist.

It seems to be en vogue these days, in some circles, to play fast and loose theological games with The Sacraments. I am discovering that holding onto a mystery is a strange, wonderful gift that becomes more precious as one faces more nearly into the mystery of life and death.

It was a real gift to be able to visit with our guests and have a conversation at the Christmas table after dinner. That's because I planned a menu that was pretty basic and simple and didn't require too much tending. In the past, I've spent more time in the kitchen than in the living room and then felt resentful after everyone left, and Ms. Conroy filled me in on all the "news" from everyone that I missed because I was, well, in the kitchen.

Experience is a gift if you can learn from it and use it, and not let regret or anger or resentment cloud your ability to see with "the eyes of your heart". You can throw your hands up in the air and say, "Well, I'm done with that. Never again." Or you can ask, "What can I change that will make it better, so that doesn't happen again?"

I guess I'm a slow learner because I still make mistakes. I still get baited in conversations that should not happen. I don't stop them before they make me angry because (1) it's beyond being just a disagreement, it's stupidity and (2) it's not an appropriate conversation for a "mixed-church-non-church" gathering.

But, I'm learning to listen more carefully to my gut and not allow myself to get hooked by certain people who seem to love to bait an argument. I think those are the moments when I return to the kitchen for just a few moments to tend to the carrots or put the bread in to warm. Or, just change the subject.

I'm finally learning to be a responsible guest. How about that? It's a little gift I'm learning to give myself, which, like St. John's revelations, turns out to be a gift to others.

The thing about some gifts is that they don't often look like gifts when they first arrive. I'm sure St. John didn't consider his cave, deserted, sparse, bleak, desolate, and very high up on the windy hill, to be anything more than a place of punishment where he could live out his last days. Alone. Exiled. Not able to evangelize and tell The Greatest Story of Jesus and His Love to anyone.

Except, he turned his barren, isolated cave into a spiritual haven and was able to evangelize through his visions and words in print form in order to build up the church he could not see, which was yet to come, in part because of his visions.

As Carrie Fisher once said, “Sometimes you can only find Heaven by slowly backing away from Hell.”

She also said, "“Happy is one of the many things I'm likely to be over the course of a day and certainly over the course of a lifetime. But I think if you have the expectation that you're going to be happy throughout your life--more to the point, if you have a need to be comfortable all the time--well, among other things, you have the makings of a classic drug addict or alcoholic.”

I think Ms. Fisher's experience is a real gift. Someday, I'm going to grow up and be more like that. And, it will be a real gift.

Off I go then, into this beautiful, cold, crisp new day. I'm trying to ignore the sounds of the duck hunters off the marsh. I don't have any wisdom about what to do with my distress about that.

I'm choosing to rejoice that some of the ducks seem to be smarter than the hunters and have found refuge in some of the places in front of people's homes where they seem to know the hunters can't shoot.

It's a great gift of practical wisdom for the Third Day of Christmas, the Third Day of Hanukkah, and the Second Day of Kwanzaa. I suspect it even brings a smile to St. John's lips.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.