Diary of a Theologian

Old Clothes

 It was a morning cooler than usual. Like me, she is an early riser; unlike me, she takes long walks to get there. As happens also in church, in the coffee shop we have our regular seats. We know each other’s name but don’t talk much. On this morning, as she gathered up her things to go, I noted her interesting jacket. Yes, she said; she showed me the back as well—it was covered with small embroidery, rather fancy for the Katy Trail. “I’ve had it for 30 years but mostly it just hung in my closet. Then I said to myself, When do I think I’m going to wear it? After I’m dead?” So, being very clearly alive, she is wearing it.

I had some T-shirts from 40 or 50 years ago—three of them even older than that. I had seldom worn them. They were mementos of places I had been and places my in-laws had been (as in, “they got to see the Galapagos, I got the T-shirt”). (Though I do like the T-shirt.) How many times had I moved these basically unworn garments? I can think of at least six. After the last, I decided to start wearing them. They are wearing out now, one by one being turned into rags.

What had I been waiting for? It was foolish not to enjoy them, foolish to think that they were mementos that should be eternally preserved. 

On the other hand, there was great enjoyment had by my coffee shop companion as she wore that nice jacket. Had she worn it out earlier, she would have missed this current satisfaction. It was like a piece of the last century that suddenly appeared, aglow with the crisp lustre of being new while simultaneously being a gift of the past; it was like two different periods of her life being present at the same time. 

 Then I realized the same: when I wear that Galapagos T-shirt, I am bringing my wife’s parents back into the present moment, remembering their love of archeology and biological science while also remembering their love of a rather young son-in-law and of our fledgling children.

 A guy in line at that coffee shop asked me if I had been to the Galapagos. “No,” I grinned; “my wife’s parents gave me the T-shirt.” He had lived in Ecuador and said that, while he didn’t have the T-shirt, he had seen the Galapagos. They are, to all reports, worth seeing.

But more important, I think, than traveling to visit interesting places, is the work of putting our lives together as a coherent thing. It’s so easy to think of our lives as a bunch of episodes that happen to have followed one after another, but what is it that knits our whole life together? How can each of our lives be (by God’s grace) one narrative, one story? Maybe it is good to save some things—not for ever, but for future use. We won’t use them after we’re dead! There is likely something in your closet right now that you could bring out and start wearing.

Putting the pieces of your life together is part of the work of being a pilgrim, whether you do it in Spain or in Texas or somewhere else. What is God doing with your life? What is the story that holds your life together? It’s a good question to ask.    

 And there might be a clue waiting for you in your closet. 

Resurrection: The Gift of Home

    It was a Wednesday evening parish supper, and short people were present, some up in arms, others toddling or darting about. Many of the tall people addressed them by name. The short people clearly felt at home in the parish hall: it was just a normal part of their lives, an ordinary thing. This church space was theirs as much as anyone else’s.
    As I write this, an old childhood memory emerges: potluck suppers at church. My brother and I got to eat whatever we wanted. We had to exhibit reasonable behavior, but we were also free to go around and sit where we wanted and also to walk into other rooms. The church was ours; we knew it; we were at home.
    I’ve seen this in several churches lately, the reappearance of short people. I call them “short people” to make a point: children are not “the future”; they are, just like everyone else, part of the church of the present. Once upon a time, my church had a children’s sermon after the Gospel. We called it “the sermon for short people.”
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    The sense of being at home in a church is a gift that keeps on giving. As life gets complicated, as difficulties increase, it is good to have two homes. It is good to have a family where one is “at home.” It helps to have also a church home, a place where you are known by name, where you know the rooms, where you learn how to be a friend with your other friends. I have long thought that it is a shame that the Society of Friends is a particular church. Every church should know that it is a society of friends, a home base in a complicated world.
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    As we all know sorrowfully, the complications of the world do not stay “out there”: they enter families and churches as well, not to mention our own hearts. No family is perfect, every church falls short, and every heart is pierced by sin. The resurrection of Jesus is the way God chose to give the created world back to us. The resurrection remakes the world into what God always intended it to be. Thus, God’s resurrection gifts include families and churches and hearts of flesh. Resurrection is God bringing us to home.
    How precious is the knowledge that it’s there for us: not just on Sunday, but every day; not just on this Sunday, but every Sunday of the year.
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    The Center of the Universe. I was rescheduling something with a friend in a different time zone, which was complicated by my just assuming that of course he would know that by 3 p.m. I meant 3 p.m. Central! After it was sorted out, he noted how we naturally put ourselves at our center. An Uber driver had once told him about a question his young daughter asked: “Daddy, why do you put on the turn signal? You know which way you're going!”
    Dear reader, now you know why Dallas drivers never use turn signals. Being the center of all things, they know where they’re going.
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    Out & About, Web-wise. I worked through some thoughts about the resurrection body and “defects” in a recent piece, “Resurrection Scars,” for the website of the Human Life Review: https://humanlifereview.com/ resurrection-scars/