I'm Closed Now
April 28, 2008
You can't cut time with your tired
scissors. Pablo Neruda
And Jesus withdrew to a solitary place to
pray. Gospel of Mark
One of the ways to express the spiritual
crisis of our time is to say that most of us
have an address but cannot be found
there. Henri Nouwen
Jesus is a PR-department's nightmare. In
the middle of his busy schedule (healing,
teaching, and caring), with a lot of people
clamoring for his attention ("and the whole
town gathered at the door"), he withdraws
to a solitary place to pray.
His disciples, not understanding, and genuinely put out, hunt him down. When they find him, they exclaim, "Jesus, what are you doing here. . .doing NOTHING?!? Do you want to be a good Messiah, or not? Get back down there! People are counting on you down there. What will people think? Jesus, we need to get you to a time-management seminar. You could accomplish so much more!" (Actually, that's all a slightly loose translation of Mark's Gospel, chapter one.)
The literal translation sounds familiar, even to our modern ears, "Jesus, everyone is looking for you!" We've all heard some variation of this show of displeasure. Implying, "You have some nerve, saying NO."
This way of thinking preys on two temptations. One, it assumes that we derive our worth and value from what we do, or produce. Therefore, we are motivated to be indispensable.
Two, we assume that rest (or Sabbath or withdrawing) is wasteful, and should inflame guilt. ("Shouldn't you be doing something worthwhile with your time?" we hear the inner-voice nag.)
Like I said, Jesus needs a spin-doctor. Listen to his response:
The disciples said, "Everyone is looking for you."
Jesus replied, "Then let us go somewhere else."
Here's the bottom line: For Jesus, withdrawing is not optional. It is intentional and essential.
I give (relate, care, listen, serve) wholeheartedly if I am at home in my own skin. When I am in the daily-life-hubbub, I can lose sight of that. Although, I do sooo enjoy the adrenalin rush from being needed. When I give in to the "should" of being all things to all people, when I give up the need to withdraw for rest and renewal, I lose the rhythm of life that feeds my soul.
In withdrawing Jesus is saying to his disciples, "Do you see that clump of people? Do you know why I have any power in that clump? Because I regularly say NO, to withdraw to a place where I listen to a different voice-my Father's voice-about my identity."
I know from personal experience that if I don't say no, no will be said for me by default, and I will end up saying no to the people I love the most.
When Dwight Eisenhower was president, he stood at a meeting of the cabinet and said, "This meeting is adjourned."
"But Mr. President, there is still much work to be done. We need to extend the meeting."
"The meeting is adjourned because I promised my grandson I would play football with him at 3:30. It is 3:30."
"But Mr. President, some of this business cannot wait."
"Gentlemen, I can give you reasons why we are adjourning. I could never offer a good reason to my grandson why I would miss my commitment to play football."
We miss the point if we see this as a means to an end. I'll rest so that I'll be more productive when I return. I'll be rewarded. I'll benefit. As if we still have the sense of control, as if we can manufacture meaning by how we orchestrate our lives.
We miss the point if we assume that the power of Sabbath is in the program or method. Whether we choose meditation, observing Shabbat, walking the dog, Centering Prayer, soaking in a hot bath, yoga, praying the Divine Hours, Taize prayer, walking a labyrinth, or an afternoon napping in a hammock, it begins with this: it is enough to withdraw. The power of the story in the Gospel of Mark is the verb. Withdrew. There is nothing overtly spiritual or spectacular here. It is a sign on the door, "I'm closed now."
I love Susan Shaw's take on all of this, "The most helpful thing I grasped while waitressing was that some tables are my responsibility and some are not. A waitress gets overwhelmed if she has too many tables, and no one gets good service. In my life, I have certain things to take care of: my children, my relationships, my work, myself, and one or two causes. That's it. Other things are not my table. I would go nuts if I tried to take care of everyone, if I tried to make everybody do the right thing. If I went through my life without ever learning to say, "Sorry, that's not my table, Hon," I would burn out and be no good to anybody. I need to have a surly waitress inside myself that I can call on when it seems everyone in the world is waving an empty coffee cup in my direction. My Inner Waitress looks over at them, keeping her six plates balanced and her feet moving, and says, "Sorry, Hon, not my table."
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done. Book of Genesis
His disciples, not understanding, and genuinely put out, hunt him down. When they find him, they exclaim, "Jesus, what are you doing here. . .doing NOTHING?!? Do you want to be a good Messiah, or not? Get back down there! People are counting on you down there. What will people think? Jesus, we need to get you to a time-management seminar. You could accomplish so much more!" (Actually, that's all a slightly loose translation of Mark's Gospel, chapter one.)
The literal translation sounds familiar, even to our modern ears, "Jesus, everyone is looking for you!" We've all heard some variation of this show of displeasure. Implying, "You have some nerve, saying NO."
This way of thinking preys on two temptations. One, it assumes that we derive our worth and value from what we do, or produce. Therefore, we are motivated to be indispensable.
Two, we assume that rest (or Sabbath or withdrawing) is wasteful, and should inflame guilt. ("Shouldn't you be doing something worthwhile with your time?" we hear the inner-voice nag.)
Like I said, Jesus needs a spin-doctor. Listen to his response:
The disciples said, "Everyone is looking for you."
Jesus replied, "Then let us go somewhere else."
Here's the bottom line: For Jesus, withdrawing is not optional. It is intentional and essential.
I give (relate, care, listen, serve) wholeheartedly if I am at home in my own skin. When I am in the daily-life-hubbub, I can lose sight of that. Although, I do sooo enjoy the adrenalin rush from being needed. When I give in to the "should" of being all things to all people, when I give up the need to withdraw for rest and renewal, I lose the rhythm of life that feeds my soul.
In withdrawing Jesus is saying to his disciples, "Do you see that clump of people? Do you know why I have any power in that clump? Because I regularly say NO, to withdraw to a place where I listen to a different voice-my Father's voice-about my identity."
I know from personal experience that if I don't say no, no will be said for me by default, and I will end up saying no to the people I love the most.
When Dwight Eisenhower was president, he stood at a meeting of the cabinet and said, "This meeting is adjourned."
"But Mr. President, there is still much work to be done. We need to extend the meeting."
"The meeting is adjourned because I promised my grandson I would play football with him at 3:30. It is 3:30."
"But Mr. President, some of this business cannot wait."
"Gentlemen, I can give you reasons why we are adjourning. I could never offer a good reason to my grandson why I would miss my commitment to play football."
We miss the point if we see this as a means to an end. I'll rest so that I'll be more productive when I return. I'll be rewarded. I'll benefit. As if we still have the sense of control, as if we can manufacture meaning by how we orchestrate our lives.
We miss the point if we assume that the power of Sabbath is in the program or method. Whether we choose meditation, observing Shabbat, walking the dog, Centering Prayer, soaking in a hot bath, yoga, praying the Divine Hours, Taize prayer, walking a labyrinth, or an afternoon napping in a hammock, it begins with this: it is enough to withdraw. The power of the story in the Gospel of Mark is the verb. Withdrew. There is nothing overtly spiritual or spectacular here. It is a sign on the door, "I'm closed now."
I love Susan Shaw's take on all of this, "The most helpful thing I grasped while waitressing was that some tables are my responsibility and some are not. A waitress gets overwhelmed if she has too many tables, and no one gets good service. In my life, I have certain things to take care of: my children, my relationships, my work, myself, and one or two causes. That's it. Other things are not my table. I would go nuts if I tried to take care of everyone, if I tried to make everybody do the right thing. If I went through my life without ever learning to say, "Sorry, that's not my table, Hon," I would burn out and be no good to anybody. I need to have a surly waitress inside myself that I can call on when it seems everyone in the world is waving an empty coffee cup in my direction. My Inner Waitress looks over at them, keeping her six plates balanced and her feet moving, and says, "Sorry, Hon, not my table."
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done. Book of Genesis
Poems / Prayers
Praying
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but a doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Mary Oliver
Slow me down, Lord
Ease the pounding of my heart by the quieting of my mind.
Steady my hurried pace with a vision of the eternal reach of time.
Give me, amid the confusion of the day, the calmness of the everlasting hills.
Break the tensions of my nerves and muscles with the soothing music of the singing streams that live in my memory.
Help me to know the magical, restoring power of sleep.
Teach me the art of taking minute vacations
-- of slowing down to look at a flower, to chat with a friend, to pat a dog, to read a few lines from a good book.
Slow me down, Lord, and inspire me to send my roots deep into the soil of life's enduring values that I may grow toward the stars of my greater destiny.
Amen.
Wilferd Arlan Peterson
Peace,
Terry Hershey
