conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

thursday mumblings

Abba John the Dwarf said, 'There was a spiritual old man who lived a secluded life. He was held in high estimation in the city and enjoyed a great reputation. He was told that a certain old man, at the point of death, was calling for him, to embrace him before he fell asleep. He thought to himself, if I go by day, men will run after me, giving me great honour, and I shall not be at peace in all that. So I will go in the evening in the darkness and I shall escape everyone's notice. But lo, two angels were sent by God with lamps to give him light. Then the whole city came out to see his glory. The more he wished to flee from glory, the more he was glorified. In this was accomplished that which is written: "He who humbles himself will be exalted." ' (Luke 14:11)

How do they do it? I mean, how do they do it? I sit here in the mornings and I look out my dining room windows at the world. People leave for work or walk their dogs. There aren't many people on this little cul de sac, so I cannot honestly say that I spend my mornings watching them. There just aren't that many people to watch. Now, the squirrels on the other hand are legion. So too are the bunnies. They are legion. Rodentia suburbana. Yep. We got 'em in spades here.

During Easter I have been including these odd little anecdotes or quotations from the desert fathers and mothers. John the Dwarf, Abba Lot, Amma Syncletica are all Christian rock stars. Some even had an entourage. It's quite an amazing collection of people...all eccentric in their way, defenders of the faith, low church, evangelical, sacramentalist hermits. Are these things possible? Can they exist in one person. Can it be that the desert fathers and mothers were the first post-moderns? And here we thought we were on to something.
I have moved. I am no longer in the dining room. I am on the back porch. The rodentia are ever-present. And now I can hear the birds as well. They are a chatty lot this morning.

I need to mow the lawn. Welcome to my tangential love affair with life.

Anyway, how do the saints do it? They would say that they do not. They may talk of discipline. They may talk of virtues. But in the end, they say that one does not do it. One is. One comes to terms with one's place in the cosmos...and that is often a decidedly different thing than one's "place in the world." One does not earn sainthood. Others recognize sainthood within us. One cannot advertise sainthood. Imagine the signs. Betty Q. Public, Saint...

It has a certain ring to it. I'll admit it. And the desert monastics invited it to some degree. They did not move out to wadi-land because of the real estate value. Some were protesters of a sort, peevish about the increasing place of empire in the life of the church. Some believed that they had received a word from the Holy Spirit to go out. Some followed teachers. Some simply grew tired of the rest of humanity.

I wonder what the desert mothers and fathers would think about the suburbs.

I realize that this post makes little to no sense. That's okay. I hope you don't mind. I woke up at 4:30 after a long day at the office. Our Council Meetings have been really good lately...lots of energy. I think we are actually getting things done. For those who go to such meetings (vestries, councils, boards), you know how rare actual work can be. But this group has been great. So, I come home tired and I wake up earlier than usual with my head spinning with notions about God, the world, and everything church. And I am still tired.

I am drinking coffee.
It is cold on the porch.

And I am still wondering how to be a saint. "Lord, I want to be a Christian in my heart." Right now I am just a poor facsimile. That's okay. It's what I got. But I am wondering if God ain't up to something again.

Bother.

Posted by tripp at May 3, 2007 05:36 AM