H,
It has been a minute. I would like to say that I was busy doing something grand or worthwhile, but everything can seem like that if we want it to. Most of the time, I fear, I am just engaged in the rat race. I am just trying to leave some indelible mark on sand near an ocean. I am the captain of futility, and the major of despair.
I have always said I hate the feeling of living on earth, the glare of the sun, the hopelessness of the darkest spots and the effort it takes to not go mad as we roll boulders up slanted mountains. I have this lie I tell myself, and like the best lies there is some truth there, about being a pilgrim upon the earth. My version of events, however, is more about giving up than remembering the face of heaven.
I am always trying to remember to stay awake and not slide into the rhythm of things. In this season of lent, a lot of stories about Jesus are in the ether for me. I am reading through Mark, somewhat haphazardly. You encounter this active Jesus, living and breathing and doing good. There is not a hint of conformity or compromise in him. I think of this a lot. Is this the model we are following? We know the end of the story. Why do we act like we are making it up as we go along?
It comes down to this: we go on and on about how the perfect metaphor for living as the world is being a rat on a wheel. We run and the wheel spins, but we do not go anywhere. We say the rats have to stop being on the wheel. We then say there is a rat race going on and we must not be part of it. We say we do not want any part of the wheel or the race. But we then we go out and act like rats on a wheel in a pointless race. We say no to the rat race and then whisper: “let us be rats.” To be accepted, understood, ‘loved’ and celebrated, we make the ultimate compromise. We act like the things we are re-made to end. We must learn to disconnect. We must learn to not be rats.