Sick day...

Today... is a sick day (damn it!) When I was a kid, I LOVED sick days when I could stay at home, watch TV with my mom or just read comic books and rest. And while I still love adult SNOW days - so quiet and gentle like an unexpected mini-retreat - I don't have much patience for sick days. But my wife said she'd kick my ass - gently and lovingly to be sure but still... - if I went to work today, so I am home.

And I've been thinking a lot about tears all morning: when they swell up within me, why I so often resist them and how hard it has been to simply let them come. About a hundred years ago, Dianne shared with me a poem by the Native American poet, Pat Mora, that taught her something about the wisdom of tears - and this was long before we moved to the desert and saw the way the earth spoke these truths. "Lesson 1" puts it like this:

The desert is powerless
when thunder shakes the hot air
and unfamiliar raindrops slide
on rocks, sand, mesquite,
when unfamiliar raindrops overwhelm
her, distort her face.
But after the storm, she breathes deeply,
caressed by a fresh sweet calm.
My Mother smiles rainbows.

When I feel shaken, powerless
to stop the bruising sadness,
I hear My Mother's whisper:

Mi'ja

don't fear your hot tears
cry away the storm, then listen, listen.

That is one thing I have come to trust about tears - I rarely understand them until after they flow - then, very much like the Sonoran desert, there is refreshment and a measure of wisdom and insight.

It seems that there is another element to tears, too: they open my heart to both the deep sadness that is all around us, and, they connect my heart to the possibility of compassion. With striking regularity I weep EVERY TIME I hear - or sing - this song by Mary Chapin Carpenter.

When she gets to the line, "And I can see by the way you're searching for something you can't even name - that you haven't been able to come to the table - I'm simply glad that you came..." I weep. I weep for all the sadness and hurt that still is locked away inside, I weep for those whom my religion pushes away from Christ's open table of grace, I weep for the wounds my country inflicts for good and for ill and sometimes I just weep because of the aching sorrow that haunts the world.

Curiously - and almost simultaneously though - I realize I am also weeping for the grace and joy that lives right alongside of the pain. Grace that I have tasted and touched, too. Such a paradox calls to mind some verses in scripture:

+ First from Psalm 126: they that sow in tears shall reap in joy; and the one who goes forth in weeping will bear precious seed and doubtless will return with rejoicing bringing bounty, too. Commentators suggest this was born from the time Israel's captivity in Babylon when the joy of release was ecstatic. It evokes that memory as a means of faith so that any experience of tragedy and tears can be named as only part of our reality. It will not last forever. Interestingly, some translators suggest this reading: they that sow in tears shall reap in songs of joy בְּרִנָּ֥ה. Certainly the intensity of music deepens both my sense of sorrow and gratitude...

+ Second there are these words from Ecclesiastes 3 and Matthew 5: they clearly remind me that weeping is not only part of the rhythm of sacred living, but one of the path's to God's comfort.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to reap that which is planted. A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing. A time to get and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace

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.

+ And then the insights of St. Paul in both Romans 12 and II Corinthians 6: Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another.

As I understand it, in Romans Paul's catalog involves his instruction in counter-cultural spirituality: a follower of Christ Jesus is NOT conformed to the world, but rather lives as one resurrecting the life of Jesus in her/his flesh. And part of this resurrection living has to do with compassion - sharing the wounds of others rather than ignoring them - yet moving towards joy at the same time: χαίρειν μετὰ χαιρόντων, κλαίειν μετὰ κλαιόντων.

And he repeats this commitment to paradoxical spirituality in II Corinthians: as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

I rather like the old translation that keeps everything active: ὡς λυπούμενοι ἀεὶ δὲ χαίροντες, ὡς πτωχοὶ πολλοὺς δὲ πλουτίζοντες, ὡς μηδὲν ἔχοντες καὶ πάντα κατέχοντες. As sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing and yet possessing all things.

NOTE: (about 5 hours later plus a nap) While watching TV it came to me: HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN THE MOST OBVIOUS SCRIPTURE? JESUS WEPT....

Hmmmmmm? Well, now it REALLY IS time to go back to being sick again...