I think it must have been sometime on Wednesday night, perhaps after finishing choir rehearsal at All Saints’, that this strange feeling of being caught in the midst of rapid change suddenly filled my head.
It was a familiar sense that seems to arrive unexpectedly, and I wonder if it has something to do with the change in seasons – from summer to fall, etc. It may be some form of spring fever, or it could be growing anxious anticipation about my move in two weeks. It also could be that I’ve settled fully into Lent mode and have started to finally sink into some semblance of a spiritual discipline of nightly silence.
Whatever it is, it seemed to briefly leave yesterday, but it has returned again this morning as I got a sense of the pleasantly cool – not cold – almost spring air coming into my apartment.
On Wednesday night, I seemed to be wrapped up in many thoughts of my mortality, and Lent seems to be the perfect time to bear this in mind: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
There was a funny poster up in our workroom at the office that said something like “Lenten greeting cards; an idea who’s time has not yet come . . .” and then featured several examples, including my favorite that said, “If you think you’re life’s a bust, just remember: you are dust!” with a picture of a guy who’d received the imposition of ashes and says something like, “Ummm . . . Thanks.”
I also had to raise an eyebrow to a sign that comes around every year at this time at Taco Bell saying, “Great Tastes During Lent!” and features pictures of calorie-laden burritos and other tasty snacks. Seems to defeat the purpose, I think.
As much as we laugh at it, Lent really does seem to be kind of a downer. We sang funeral music for the Ash Wednesday service at All Saints’, and even more funeral music is coming when we sing for Evensong this coming Sunday night. One of the pieces has lyrics singing, “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not here . . .” Is Lent really supposed to be focused on death? I remember many years ago when I wandered over to a Good Friday service at All Saints’, and they were singing the Fauré Requiem in the context of a liturgy. It was a Requiem Mass, and I was like, “A Requiem Mass for whom? Jesus?” It didn’t make any sense.
The other night I was talking to a friend, and he thought my thinking was very misguided when I told him that I seemed to be increasingly aware of my own mortality as I’m approaching my 30th birthday in a few months. He told me I was a long way from a midlife crisis. But these decade changes are not easy things, and we really don’t ever know when our lives will be taken from us.
Just last night, another friend and I were discussing the relative insignificance of our lives as we were enjoying drinks and appetizers. We were discussing theories about the September 11th attacks, and how increasing evidence points to the attacks being led by people in very high levels of power, for reasons that are still very unclear. I was relaying to him the hierarchy of silencing by the government, going from least severe to most severe: ignore, marginalize, ridicule, entrap, threaten, kill. There may be other intermediate steps, but these are pretty basic. His response was to remind me that our individual lives are not unlike how we humans treat bugs - creatures whose lives can be at ended anyone’s whim and at a moment’s notice.
These ponderings also have to lead me to ask questions of my own about my relationship with God and whether or not I perceive a lack of something in my life as a punishment – or worse – as a curse. Examining these types of things really forces me to think through these patterns of negative thinking to arrive at something that is not only healthier, but also more accurate.
Recently, I was reading in Rowan William’s A Ray of Darkness where he made the observation that one of the difficulties of commitment comes when we realize we only have finite choices with our lives, and that makes finding our calling to be our authentic selves something that can be quite challenging. Making a commitment to something means giving up some other alternatives as they arise that may be more attractive. This was not too different from a sermon from our Dean I heard recently about asking ourselves what things in our life would we be willing to die for: is there anything you are that committed to? If not, there are some serious issues that need to be worked out.
There is a lot of wisdom in thinking that death is something that makes every moment of our life something to be treasured as precious and holy, and in a way, these periods where I sense this sort of rapid-fire transition seem to be time-warps towards a finality of some sort. And I’ve surprised myself that I seem to be seeking out change so much - wanting to jump into it and ride it like a wave to see where it takes me.
So, this then is a time to be a little sad about things that are ending and some of the experiences I’ll be leaving behind. Transitions are not easy, and neither is the choice to change. I wonder if I’ll have the strength to embrace the chaos that is coming? Change sometimes comes at a high price? Am I ready to pay it? Will it be worth it in the end? I hope my answer to these questions is yes.
I'd better know my answer - I only have one more week.
