Today
I arrived at church late, harried, and impatient. It is no small task
to get two kids under four years old fed, dressed and out the door to
get to 8:30 mass. I was annoyed that mass is switched to 8:30 am in the
summer, instead of the more reasonable 9:15 start for Sunday School
during the rest of the year. I was annoyed that I forgot K’s bottle and
had to drive back home for it. I was annoyed that I was late and, as
usual, that annoyance spilled over to blaming others. Who is in the
nursery? Why are there announcements before church? Why can’t I get
myself settled down in peace? And, why didn’t I have another cup of
coffee, for God’s sake, because I am already starting a caffeine
withdrawal headache?
Suffice it to say that I really, really needed some peace and quiet and
here I was at church. Honestly, I could have found peace and quiet
better at home, with the baby napping (as she needed to do at this
moment) and the 3 year-old playing with her toys. I could have had my
second cup of coffee, or done some yoga, or even read morning prayer
from the Book of Common Prayer. Why am I bothering to get to church? I
am not getting what I need.
Thank God for that thought, because it brought me pause and brought me
out of my self-pitying reverie. I knew right away that I was leading
myself down a dead-end road. I did drop the kids off at the nursery
and, although I missed the entrance and first hymn, I got to settle down. I know the answer to my own question of
“why am I going to church?”, at least the “official” answer. I go to
church to be in community with others, especially other Christians. I
go to share in the mystery of Christ--except that sometimes it doesn’t
feel very mysterious. Sometimes it feels tedious and mundane and it’s
not the fault of the priest, the choir, the setting. It’s in my own
heart.
This is a new feeling for me, although it’s probably familiar to many
other people. See, I’m one of those people who love church. I didn’t
always love it, but for the last year I’ve approached the Episcopal
church with the fervor unique to new converts. I look forward to it all
week, I go on “special holy days”, I sometimes go to Wednesday mass if
I’ll miss Sunday. But, today I wasn’t feeling it. The peace I needed was eluding me; I couldn’t get out of my own
way enough to find it. I knew enough to
pray for patience, as tears of anxiety and frustration welled in my
eyes.
God delivered the patience, of course. I think that for each person
there is one crucial lesson that we learn throughout our entire life.
For me, that lesson is, “Linda, it’s NOT about YOU!” I have learned it
when dealing with horses, family, children, students, co-workers and
now I am learning it about church. Obviously, I am a slow learner,
because it keeps coming back to me. The readings today brought that
point home, for sure.
The Old Testament reading was 2 Kings 5. Please excuse my non-academic
paraphrase of it. There is this important warrior, Naaman, who has
leprosy. His slave girl tells him to go to her prophet, Elisha, to be
cured. So, he packs up his important stuff to go to Israel. The king
of Israel is mad because he thinks Naaman is trying to pick a fight with
him. Again, the king thinks this is about him, when it is clearly
someone who just needs some help. Elisha takes on the problem, but he
doesn’t meet with Naaman individually. Instead, he sends out a
messenger, saying, “Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh
will be restored and you shall be clean.” OK, great, right? Elisha
helped out the guy and now he can get better.
But, Naaman is mad because Elisha doesn’t bother to meet with him
himself. And, it seems silly to be told to wash in the river Jordan,
when there are much better rivers at home in Damascus. Shouldn’t Naaman
have to do something bigger and more meaningful to be saved? Here, the
light bulb clicks on for me. Naaman is insulted because things aren’t
big and mysterious enough for him, even though the healing he needs is
just within reach. Just like I am impatient and anxious because things
didn’t quite go my way this morning, even though the patience I need is
just within reach.
Anyway, Naaman takes the advice of another lowly servant, bathes in the
river and is cured. Glory to God! When he puts away his own notions
of how things should happen and realizes “it’s not all about him”, he
actually gets everything he needs. I get a lesson from his example and
start to settle down and listen. Here’s the funny thing I realize:
once I accept that “it’s not about me and my needs”, my needs are
magically met. Those words are an incantation of sorts, that change my perspective from focused on what I desire to a wider focus. The wider focus allows me to see that I actually have what I need. When the priest gives us the peace of God, I actually feel it surrounding me.
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