Sermon: Marking Time, Fulfilled Time

[ previous | index | next ]

Marking Time, Fulfilled Time

By Charles Rush

May 29, 2005

freshman year in college Provost Wilson addressed us on day one saying "Take a look to your left and right and say hello, the chances are that person won't be here next semester." Turns out he was right. There was one guy on our hall that probably realized that he was flunking badly but he couldn't bring himself to actually confront this because his father cut out of the model of the Soldier played by Robert Duvall in the Great Santini.

Every day after Thanksgiving, while the rest of us were doing double time, you would see him in his room teaching himself to juggle. You'd leave for class, he was juggling. You'd come back to the room at night from the library, his door was still open, juggling. I remember the morning, heading out to the last final exam for a class that we both had together, seeing his door open, him juggling. I was going to say something to him about being late but I didn't. Out in the parking lot next to our dorm I ran past this strapping man with a grim and determined look on his face, his wife sitting in the front seat. I knew in a moment it was his father and that he wouldn't be coming to the exam. And I was glad as hell that I wouldn't be in the dorm to watch them pack up.

He was just marking time and marking time is spiritually deadening. I think of a woman who was waiting for a month for her husband to actually move out of the house who said, 'every day is like lead… every exchange is like dead'.

It is waking up after an anxiety dream at 4 a.m. and not being able to go back to sleep at mid-life and beyond, laying there watching the clock, waiting for the BBC to come one, wondering at what hour walking or jogging might look like appropriate behavior rather than attract the attention of the police.

Marking time is sitting on the Garden State Parkway in the summer in August with a broken air conditioner and nothing on the radio, with lots of fellow motorists honking their horn…

Marking time is three children, a little bit sick, a little bit tired, all screaming in various states of distress at 4 p.m. and your spouse is not going to be home for another two hours.

Marking time is the glazed expression at 7 p.m. that certain commuters get in mid-winter on their way home when the routine of their lives has taken on the constriction of jail and they feel utterly resigned and tamed.

Some of us spend a lot of our lives, more or less, marking time. We are just waiting for something out there to open up that will present some possibility. At my age, I regularly hear from other men that they are just waiting for their number to come in, so that they can either retire or do something that they would find more fulfilling once they can afford it. At some level they know that they have made a spiritually dangerous Faustian gamble with their lives because we only get one ride around this track and the world could change out there and you might not be able to actually do half of the things you dream about 'out there' while you are taking care of the responsibilities you have assumed right now that just aren't doing it for you spiritually.

Marking time is spiritually deadening. The Greeks had two words for 'time' and this type of time they called 'chronos'. We get the word chronology from it. It is the sequential passing from one moment to the next, like the hour glass here. It simply happens one way and we cannot take it back. But they would also use that word when they were describing that aspect of our lives that is simply marking time. They used it for daily chores, for routines, for commercial travel, for all of those things that make up the background of our lives.

But they had another word for time. It is Kairos. Kairos is pregnant time. Kairos is spiritually rich time. And when the writers told the stories of Jesus, they found themselves using this word quite a lot. When Jesus talked about the life of grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation, he spoke of spiritually rich moments in our lives. He used to say that the Kingdom of God is about to break out around us. Spiritually rich moments are full of promise, expectation, hope, joy, fulfillment.

You may wonder why I picked these passages out since we usually use them at Christmas time. The author of Luke used this concept of fulfilled time to describe the birth of John the Baptist to Elizabeth and Zecheriah. They didn't think they could have children and Zecheriah even said so out loud, so his mouth was shut miraculously by God until, in the fullness of time, his wife did give birth. And then you have that sense that your life is actually full of blessing.

Really, I think that in many ways we actually have that experience in our culture right around this time of year. As parents, we pretty regularly feel that way at graduation, perhaps most especially at college graduation. I know when my oldest daughter graduated from college, I'm standing there in the grand University Chapel watching the full parade of academic plumage- and academics really do have great plumage. I'm standing there in my sporty bow tie with a host of other Southern Episcopalian Father's in their sporty bow ties, listening to the oration in Latin, a little pomp and circumstance is appropriate to the occasion. They call out my daughters name and her little sister lets out a holler. I'm thinking to myself "What a beautiful young woman. She's warm and witty, intelligent and educated." And I'm thinking to myself, "You know, I'm still married and I'm pretty happy and healthy." My wife reaches over and holds my hand. It is one of those silent gestures that means, "We did our job. We did a good job." She's getting a little misty. I'm a little verklempft. We actually got to see the day. We are living a blessing. That is fulfilled time. That is spiritually rich. You are swept over with a fundamental sense of gratitude.

Last week, we had a baptism at one of our services. As you know, one of the best things I get to do is hold these babies and walk them up the aisle. I had this precious little child and out of the corner of my eye, I see both of the grandmother's just welling up with tears. That is just a great day, a great time of life when you see your children doing well, up and on their own. And you get to see your very own grandchild. There is just something inherently wonderful and blessed about babies. I think of that wonderful and simple image in Isaiah that says, "you will build houses and inhabit them" because you will be in peace and not overrun by chaos and terror. And then it says, "you will live to see your children's children." 3000 years ago that was old age and you were only 40. That is the fullness of time. That is spiritually rich time.

I've been thinking about these matters this past week because my son is back home from a year long tour of duty in Afghanistan. It is a fairly deep emotional and spiritual relief. You send them off into harms way and it is worrisome, an undercurrent that is always with you. So many of you would ask me about him and his wife during the year and around town. And we prayed for them in church and every day at home and if I forgot my daughter would scold me in front of the Almighty, "Dad, don't forget Ian." So many people sent them packages for which I am deeply grateful. One night we get a call at 4 a.m. I don't even wake up, partly because the phone is turned off in the bedroom and you can barely hear it in the kitchen. But Kate can hear it, she reaches over me and snatches it up. It is Ian calling from Ireland on his way home. And he is finally back here now, as we say in religious circles, an answer to prayer. I was thinking of that earlier this week when the two of us were standing in the soft rain and the really cold creek fly fishing at dawn. It was one of those simple things that we do that I had been dreaming about, and just envisioning during the last very long year, and suddenly, we were there doing it.

I always think that when people who have been ill get back to Church for the first time after we have been praying for them, usually to say thank you. You can feel them filled with that emotion of gratitude for support, sometimes for just being alive. It is always a blessing. That is Kairos time, that is fulfillment, spiritually rich.

Spiritually rich moments fill us with a visceral gratitude that we lived to see this moment. They are the moments that catch you up short about how wonderful our lives can actually be, like the first time you were giddy in love or watching the birth of your child. There is an embedded awe and wonder to the world that is resident all around us but sometimes it just blooms right before us and some gratitude gets right into our bones, as it should.

This is the way we come fully alive. One of the ways you know that is talking to people who are facing their imminent end. I saw Warren Zevon being interviewed just before he died. I think he was on the David Letterman show and Letterman is not a deep man, nor is his show the place for any kind of serious reflection. But Warren Zevon has a terminal disease and finally, Dave asked him had any advice to share after going through this. He paused for a moment and said, "Enjoy the taste of every bite of your sandwich." Caught everyone up for a moment. What Warren was saying, was 'be aware of the spiritual richness of your living.' Really live.

And it strikes me, on this Memorial Day weekend, that this is what we actually owe those that have died before us that we might be here today. It is a difficult thing to express succinctly because it is complex. War is horrible. And many people have died needlessly because we lack maturity to settle our differences short of resorting to violence. And yet, there is nobility to those that were willing to make such extraordinary sacrifices.

I was mildly surprised that this was so articulately captured in the movie "Saving Private Ryan". All during the movie, as this platoon searches the front lines for one soldier so they can ship him home, the guys keep saying, "He had better be worth it." And when they finally find him, and several of them die, getting him out of battle, they tell him, "Your life better be worth it."

Of course, that line haunts him for the rest of his life because we all know, deep in our hearts, that none of us is worth it. And at the end of his life, when he is an old man, he goes back to Normandy to visit their graves, and is overcome with emotion, and turns to his wife and says, "Tell me I was a good man." Tell me that my life was worth it, that I really lived, and was really grateful, and that I honored their sacrifice. There really is some spiritual sense in which we should all reflect on ourselves in that way.

And in the process, we become people who are a blessing to others. We become generative. I love those few times during the year that we actually get to bless people in Church. Last week, we had our confirmands all hold hands, had their families and their mentors lay hands on them, and we blessed them in prayer. Here they are in the beginning of teenage angst- most of them have had a bad year, most of them have as much self-doubt as they will have in their teen years that year; some of them are confused, some of them withdrawn, some just angry or distant; some just won't pay attention; some are catty and mean. All of them, of course, are endearing, sometimes kind and respectful and athletic and insightful, but it is generally not an easy year… So in addition to the other things parents have thought during the year- from being ready to sell them to lock them away- here we all are joining our hands and our hearts in blessing. We are releasing the positive spiritual energy. Trust me it takes

They will still do incredibly foolish things when they are in High School and college. But our job is to collectively give them a solid backboard they can bounce their ball off. Our job is to be people of blessing and positive energy for the next generation. That is what we get to do in a time of peace that others could not do because they were caught in an era of conflict and war. And truth be told, that is all they asked of us.

Don't just mark time, make time. Make time count. And, in the wonderful words of St. Paul, cultivate a life of gratitude. Pass the blessing on. Honor the great cloud of witnesses that surround us and live in the spiritually rich way regularly tastes the sandwich. And may peace be with you as you go. Amen.