I do detect in the quotidian, meaning daily or ordinary, rhythms of writing a stage that might be described as parturient, or in labor, about to produce or come forth with an idea or discovery. And it always seems that just when daily life seems most unbarable, stretching before me like a prison sentence, when I seem most dead on the inside, reduced to mindlessness, bitter tears or both, that what is inmost breaks forth, and I realize that what had seemed "dead time" was actually a period of gestation.
[The Christian perspective] views the human body as our God-given means to salvation, for beyond the cross God has effected resurrection. . . . We must look for blessings to come from unlikely, everyday places - out of Galilee, as it were - and not in spectacular events, such as the coming of a comet.
It is precisely these thankless, boring, repetitive tasks that are hardest for the workaholic or utilitarian mind to appreciate, and God knows that being rendered completely mindless as we toil is what allows us to approach the temple of holy leisure. . . . I recall that as a college student I sometimes worked as a teacher's aide in a kindergarten and was interested to note that one of the most popular play areas for both boys and girls was a sink in a corner of the room. . . . The children delighted in filling, emptying, and refilling plastic bowls, cups, and glasses, watching bubbles form as they pressed objects deeper into the sink or tried to get others to stay afloat. It is difficult for adults to be so at play with daily tasks in the world.
The contemplative is me recognizes the sacred potential in the mundane task, even as the terminally busy go-getter resents the necessity of repetition. But, as Soren Kierkegaard reminds us, "Repetition is reality, and it is the seriousness of life. . . repetition is the daily bread which satisfies with benediction." Repetition is both as ordinary and necessary as bread, and the very stuff of ecstasy. (pp. 363-365)
"Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46)My daughter taught me how to love animals. I have never been a real fan, seeing them as mostly inconvenient. It is in those inconveniences that animals show one of their most endearing qualities: comic relief. It is difficult when the goats eat the box of nails I'm trying to work with down at the barn. It is hard when the cats follow me back and forth from the garage, hoping for something to eat. It is annoying when one of the dogs refuses to stop barking at other dogs miles and miles away. However, in these things there is also humor as I try to deal with them.
The animals delight in following us around. They are full of curiosity or their own needs. Caring for them and dealing with them slows me down. At times I resent the interference. I am in a hurry to get to something "important." The animals have different priorities. Their dependence is endearing. Their simple lives even compelling.
When a person shares their "testimony" in church, I expect to hear about some earth-shattering event that brought them to an awareness of God and their need for a Savior. In practice, however, salvation happens in the cracks of life, in between the main events. Salvation is more about everyday living that about remarkable occurrences, just like marriage is more about everyday living than a wedding or an anniversary. It is not that special occasions and powerful moments are unimportant. They just are built on the base of everyday things. Marriage is built on everyday kisses and hugs, work around the house, changing diapers, feeding animals, etc. Salvation also occurs in these everyday matters when they are received with faith and gratitude. "The very stuff of ecstasy" as Norris writes.
I suppose that the humility necessary to come to Jesus is found in this appreciation of the everyday. "The faith of a child" transcends workaholic or utilitarian.concerns. For adults trying to "get somewhere," children can be exasperating. For children trying to play, adults can be exasperating. It is not that God never wants me to focus on something in work, but as often as not, he plans for rather mindless work to open up time for me to look beyond my occupation and play or rest in him. Workaholics and utilitarians are narrow and see very little of life or of God. "They will never enter my rest," God might say when I am caught in these attitudes. (Hebrews 3:11)
"Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" What a common place! A place with no history and no future! The same question comes about repetitious, mundane activity. Can any good come from it? Jesus encourages me to "look at the birds in the air" or teaches me that "the kingdom of God is like a woman kneading dough." Embedded in the everyday is the voice and wisdom of God, if I will just play with him.
Lord, give me today my daily bread. I don't just want something to eat, but the everyday life that builds and supports my life with you. Let my heart be attuned to your wonder and wisdom in all you have made and all I get to do. Amen.
I feel a thrill about going to work and knowing God will meet me in the mundane. I easily forget that so much of his joy and peace come through these "mindless" activities. In them I can be mindful of him and his ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment