on frittering, dry spells and gentle blessings......

In countless ways we could honestly say, "Creation is going to hell." There are signs of decay, greed, war and conflict everywhere. At the very same time, however, we could equally proclaim that, "There are miracles and blessings saturating every moment, too." Could it be that this is what the old preacher, Qoheleth, meant at the start of Ecclesiastes: What has been will be again, what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun?

My hunch is that the seasoned "collector of words" (one meaning of Qoheleth) was articulating a mystical, paradoxical truth. One one level, the teacher was reminding us that creation operates in a cyclical way. There is life and there is death, there are births and there are funerals, there is wind and calm, sun and moon, summer and winter, day and night etc. What has taken place in nature once, will take place again - and again and again. For there is a rhythm and an order underneath and within everything that exists under the sun. Recognizing this truth is essential for wisdom. Chapter three of Ecclesiastes amplifies this foundational insight:

To everything there is a season and a time and purpose for everything under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what 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 mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, 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 for war, and a time for peace.

Often this is as far as the text is developed: sometimes it supports a world weary worldview. A one-dimensional heart regularly confuses cynicism with wisdom. How many times have the words of Jesus, "You will always have the poor with you" been used to excuse injustice within the status quo? On another level, however, this passage suggests that built into the order of creation is also wonder, joy, birth, letting go, dancing, feasting and so much more. To be sure, there is always boredom, tedium and even oppression. And, there are also miracles, times of ecstasy and liberation. One of my favorite texts in the totality of the Scriptures is Isaiah 55: 

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,

and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;

listen, so that you may live...

Seek the Lord while he may be found,

call upon him while he is near;

let the wicked forsake their way,

and the unrighteous their thoughts;

let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them,

and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy,

and be led back in peace.

The challenge - the quest - the heart of our journey - is to let go of enough of our expectations so that we might hear and trust the thoughts of the Holy One whose ways are not our ways. Whose heart is not one-dimensional and cynical, but ever rich with creativity and compassion. Rosemerry Wathola Trommer put it like this in her poem: But You Thought You Knew What a Sign Looked Like.

Open your hands, lift them.
—William Stafford, “Today”

The parking space beside the store when you
were late. The man who showed up just in time
to hold the door when you were juggling five
big packages. The spider plant that grew—
though you forgot to water it. The new
nest in the tree outside your window. Chime
of distant church bells when you’re lonely. Rhyme
of friendship. Apples. Sky a trove of blue.

And who’s to say these miracles are less
significant than burning bushes, loaves
and fishes, steps on water. We are blessed
by marvels wearing ordinary clothes—
how easily we’re fooled by simple dress—

Oranges. Water. Leaves. Bread. Crows.

As I have written recently, I have been feeling like I'm frittering away time. Not all of it, to be sure, and not completely. But in a profound way, the past few months have felt like I'm treading water rather than nourishing my heart. Or living through an emotional, creative and spiritual dry spell. When that insight caught my attention, and it took a number of weeks to burn through my haze, I still didn't really shift gears. I knew something within was passing away - I trusted that something new was going to be born, too - but it was not going to be fully of my own doing. Like a mother in the early stages of labor, there was just nothing I could do to advance the intensity of my contractions. Instead, my work was to breathe - and keep breathing deeply - and let creation do its designated work.

And slowly a few clues have started to come into focus: new connections, new possibilities, new songs, new prayers, new life. Trusting these paradoxical blessings of the birthing process, yesterday I tore up a patch of weeds and grass in a raised flower bed that has laid dormant for 11 years. Like one of Israel's ancient prophets, I needed to embody externally what I sensed was taking place within. Today I planted wild flowers there. After all, we've only been talking about doing this for what... a decade? And now it is coming to pass: all things in their time, yes? When the student is ready, the Buddha will appear. Clearly our frittering is not for nought. Nor are our dry spells the end of the story. For to everything there is a season - and a purpose, too - for all things under heaven. Be gentle with yourselves, ok? Life is hard enough without crucifying ourselves with expectations.