Hear me

Hear my teaching, O my people; 

incline your ears to the words of my mouth.

I will open my mouth in a parable; 

I will declare the mysteries of ancient times.

That which we have heard and known,

and what our forefathers have told us, 

we will not hide from their children.

We will recount to generations to come

the praiseworthy deeds and the power of the Lord, 

and the wonderful works he has done.

He gave his decrees to Jacob

and established a law for Israel, 

which he commanded them to teach their children;

That the generations to come might know,

and the children yet unborn; 

that they in their turn might tell it to their children;

So that they might put their trust in God, 

and not forget the deeds of God,

but keep his commandments;

And not be like their forefathers,

a stubborn and rebellious generation, 

a generation whose heart was not steadfast,

and whose spirit was not faithful to God.

-Psalm 78:1-8

I’ve spent some wonderful time in recent months in the most remarkable kind of renewal one can discover in my time of life: reacquainting with a very close childhood friend who I really haven’t known in six decades. We were inseparable as early and middle schoolers, but during adolescence, our paths diverged completely and seemingly forever. I stayed in New Orleans, and he moved away all his life, and we just never reconnected. All I knew was that he was living a far different life than mine in a distant place and seldom returned to visit.

Then, he quietly moved back home. I heard he was back in town, and one of us reached out for lunch. Now we take walks. We spend some entertaining and unhurried time reliving all our childhood remembrances, laughing and joking; in more reflective moments, we trace our personal journeys that proceeded along such starkly contrasting paths over the past 60 years. I’ve discovered how two inseparable childhood friends can choose such unalike life paths at 20 and 40 and 50, yet still be the same essential friends again much later in life just as they were at 12, no matter the scale of intervening life circumstances. I assume many people have reconnected with old childhood friends like this and discovered the same possibility. 

In this case, as different as geography and other life decisions have been for us, neither of these factors was the major deviating impetus in our lives’ unfolding these past years. My friend’s life calling has been guided devotedly by a religious doctrine with which I had no previous knowledge or comprehension. It’s what I would call “off track.” He’s spent hours explaining it to me, and I still don’t really understand it. It’s certainly not Christianity 101 or Hindu or Muslim or any other of the world’s “major religions.” He explains it as a kind of combination of all of those and none of those. There’s some aspect of the idea of reincarnation in the mix, and he’s tried to enlighten that part of it to me, but the core focus, he explained, is simply this: God compels us to love one another completely without conditions. 

When he first said this, I pushed back: “How is that different? In my Chistian faith, loving your neighbor no matter how much he aggravates you is fundamental.”

“Well, do you?” he asked me. “Are those words that you truly and honestly live by every day, or words you repeat on Sundays because it’s important to remember to just keep trying?” So here I must admit - that question kind of stopped me. His simple point was that knowing and reminding yourself, and trying to live your life one way, is not the same as really and truly doing so. Obviously. 

He has given me numerous examples of what loving others without conditions has meant in his life over the years. Hearing his stories, I believe this is someone who truly and honestly does not experience or feel hate, prejudice, partisanship, bias or discrimination. He is at peace and comfortable with anyone and everyone, including people whose political, societal or behavioral standards would be enough for me to sneer and vent and complain over endlessly. I know I waste too much time doing all of that, reflexively, compulsively. Meanwhile, my friend is in no hurry, no one is ever in his way. He doesn’t grumble or murmur or protest. He laughs a lot. He has no regrets nor distresses, and he respects everyone he meets and remembers, including even one or two old fifth-grade tormentors and bullies we loathed together back in the day. 

So, I have discovered that for this old friend, loving one another truly is about as unsullied, uncomplicated and complete as it is for anyone I’ve ever known. I do not understand the well from which the water of his being has been drawn, but I know his life has a grace and charity and calmness and composure that I envy and can only hope to find myself one day. He is now my teacher – and his first lesson is that I still have so much to learn. That this would be him – that same raucous, riotous, mischievous friend of so many years ago – is astonishing, inexplicable, humbling - but mostly, also, just so enormously gratifying. 

Gracious God, when I recall how unconditionally you share your love with us, I am compelled to keep trying. Keep me focused on your example. Amen

Pentecost