April 2020 - Measured Musings

startling

Jesus asked her, “Why are you crying? Who are you looking for?” She thought he was the gardener and said, “Sir, if you have taken his body away, please tell me, so I can go and get him.” Then Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him, “Rabboni.” The Aramaic word “Rabboni” means “Teacher.” John 20:15-16

It’s easy to take for granted the periodic patterns that follow a seasonal cycle. As a chill descends upon a summer in full bloom, I delight in the fall of color that leads to a barren twig, because I know that spring is coming. In the lull of winter’s rest, however, I often miss those first few buds, and the transformation from what looks like death to life appears almost instantaneous. But the surprise of what is not surprising at all is a wonder in itself. And the mystery of what is not mysterious to me is the nature of Easter.

Like when an image, idea, insight appears suddenly out of nowhere, seemingly outside the neurons of my brain, I can only marvel at the thought and contemplate its source. Or when I describe particle-wave duality, explain Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, teach statistical mechanics, the words may sound a little flat, and yet inspire awe in the open-minded.

It requires a bit of imagination to reason through data that is foreign to our everyday observations. What was it like to see blood and water flow from the side of the one who was pierced, to see that body placed in a tomb, to see a stone rolled in front of the entrance, to see that same one standing in front of you saying your name? A unique sequence of events composed as a study of true love and presented as a model of new life.

interlude

When they came together in Galilee, he said to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised to life.” And the disciples were filled with grief. Matthew 17:22-23

Every day as the sun goes down, as daylight fades into darkness, as time is ascribed a new unique number, we experience an end. In the regularity of this finality, we may have lost a sense of reflection, mourning, or celebration commemorating the passing of what is finished. The monotony of this end followed by a beginning in the split second of midnight, doesn’t leave much space for us to experience the in-between, to feel the vacuum of nothingness, the void of consuming silence, the emptiness of waiting. There is no gap to wonder about all that will not or might yet be.

In contrast is an end for which there is a noticeable interval before the realization of a start. Here we find ourselves left wordless in this awkward interlude of a sabbath rest. A Holy Saturday that will not play out as it could, leaving us to find comfort as the masses would, convinced we will never again feel as we should, after losing the only one we knew who was good. A day to wallow in the darkness of death, secured by the seal of a stone, and guarded from the burglary of a grave. A day to wrestle with the foolishness of faith and a senseless foretelling buried deep within.

good

Now my soul is troubled. What should I say – Father, save me from this hour? But that is why I came to this hour. John 12:27

While traversing the surface of life covered with hills and valleys, I’ve experienced “rock bottom” many times. Each perceived a new limit, assumed to be the absolute lowest. It is impossible, however, for me to distinguish between a local or global minimum. Only a full view of the landscape can reveal the true nature of a state.

But from the perspective of any bottom – the only way out is up. This ascent requires energy gained from an external source or transferred through heat and collisions. A journey that can be delightful when marked by the warmth of a gentle touch, or painful when scarred by the sting of a hot tempered blow. Only a handful will experience a view from the top or height attainable in the time allotted. Outliers striving beyond their limits to achieve a goal, follow a vision, pursue an ambition knowing the effort will be rewarded by a glimpse of grandeur forever etched in their mind, inscribed in their heart, engraved in their soul.

The awe of an hour, revealed in context of a troubling question, rationalized in hope of a purposeful plan, doubted in view of deep personal pain. Such was the road to the cross. Palm branches fashioned into whips, loyal followers converted into betrayers, royal blessings turned into crucifixion. A Friday that was only “good” in view of the true meaning of the word. Complete, whole, lacking nothing – a perfection echoed from the beginning and finding fulfillment in an end.

reflection

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

Unpredictable, unknown, uncertain – it is impossible to find affirmation in negation. When change is more rapid than adaptation, transitions more abrupt than response, consequences more sudden than reaction, it’s easy to get lost in the unprecedented.

Ambiguity has clouded my vision, isolation has dulled my perception, worry has blurred my judgement, and I feel overwhelmed by an exponential growth of dread. How long will routine remain hidden, obscured, concealed by the crisis of a moment?

But when I look in the mirror, I am struck by the one who is present, holding my gaze, standing face to face. This reflection that exists here and now cannot tell me if I am stuck, have reverted, or am evolving. This impression that is immediate before me does not know the time of day, which season, or what year. And yet it appears – quiet, still, fixed – recognizing this one who is known, and finding hope in the part that is seen.