A few years ago, someone left a dog at Saint John’s. It is a mystery how it got into the fully fenced playfield. The dog had no tag or chip. An incredibly friendly dog, his paws were sore and worn maybe from walking a long way on pavement or, more likely, from being chained on a concrete pad of some kind. Our business manager, Sally, took him home which eventually became his forever home. She named him George. He was a kind and loving animal. One weird thing is that he considered himself human. George sat on the couch like a human – on his rump with his legs spread out in front and his left paw on the armrest.
Another mystery is our church cat, Sassy. She’s been at Saint John’s more than 15 years. Sassy showed up one day and stayed. She’s in poor health and is not very kind or warm; she no longer hunts mice but instead sits around in the sun on the floor of the maintenance office, swears, spits, tells us what to do and says mean things about our mothers. I am sorry to report this past weekend George was sick. His vet diagnosed him with a terminal liver condition. He was put down. Sassy, on the other hand, is still alive. It’s not fair; not fair at all. God is just, truthful and faithful. God is great, glorious and incredibly forgiving. Fair, however, is perhaps not a suitable word to describe God. My thought is that God is just but not necessarily fair. When I say it is not fair that Sassy is alive and George is not, I base it on what I believe is morally right in human terms. George was a pleasant dog who was a good friend. Sassy is not. But God’s morality is different from mine. God knows what is right and what is wrong and quite often he does not consult me for my opinion on the way to run things. Someone close to me has had cancer pop up, again. I don’t think that is fair at all. And, frankly, I’m a little mad at God for letting this happen. Yet, I know that God heals and saves through the working of the Holy Spirit. I have faith that this will all turn out well and good. Yet, I’m still a little mad at what I perceive as the unfairness of the situation. Near the end of his life, Moses recited a poem to the Israelites as they were poised and ready to cross the river Jordan into the Promised Land. Moses said, “The Rock, his work is perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God, without deceit, just and upright is he; yet his degenerate children have dealt falsely with him, a perverse and crooked generation.” (Deuteronomy 32:4-5). The Rock, which is better translated as The Mountain, is defined as just. The Hebrew word translated as just, tsad-deek, is used to describe a judge or king who maintains the right and dispenses justice. In the Old Testament, this word is used for both punishing and rewarding. Every Good Friday, there’s a tugging at my heart that says this is not fair. It’s not fair at all that Jesus was crucified. But luckily, determining fairness is not up to me. -Fr. Marshall A suspicion I had about local Chula Vista drivers has been confirmed. We are driving distracted.
We moved to Eastlake, a suburb of Chula Vista, two years ago. I remember because we moved on my birthday. Things are different in Eastlake from Imperial Beach. We view driving as a sport. It's dangerous, frankly, and a source of concern in my morning prayers. Driving fast and seeing how many lane changes a car can make before stopping at a red light is one competitive event; the record I've counted is ten. More and more drivers that I observe are being distracted by their phones. On the way to Saint John's today, at each of eight green lights, there was at least one car that didn't go because they were distracted by their phone. I'm sure you've experienced this -- a line of cars is waiting for the light, it turns green, some cars go and one car doesn't because the driver is not looking at the light but at their phone. Twice today the distracted car was in a left turn lane. By the time they noticed (usually from the horn sound coming from the car behind them), they hit the gas, barely made the light on the yellow and the rest of the cars had to wait through another cycle. My suspicion about being distracted was confirmed by a recent article in Chula Vista's Star News. Officer Margarita Walker of Chula Vista's finest said that she's witnessed, “[People] talking on cell phones and texting; I’ve seen people facebooking while driving and sadly way too many selfies while driving.” Yes, that's right, people take selfies while driving. As a result, Chula Vista announced a crack down on distracted driving. Around 1,500 citations were given out last year. My morning count suggests we should be able to break that dubious record. Sgt. Jeffrey Meeks said, “Imagine driving for four or five seconds while blindfolded. That can be the effect of looking down to send a text message. In the average time it takes to check a text message – less than five seconds – a car travelling 60 mph will travel more than the length of a football field.” For most folks, driving is the most dangerous activity of the entire day. If we are distracted while doing that, how much more are we permitting ourselves to be distracted by lesser activities during the day. When Jesus went to the home of Mary and Martha, Luke writes, Mary sat at Jesus' feet, a first century phrase that means she was totally focused on Jesus. Meanwhile, Martha was cleaning up in the kitchen and got angry at Jesus because he was allowing Mary to "sit at his feet." We readers know that Mary had chosen not to be distracted but to focus on Jesus and the life to which he was calling her, a more focused way of living where she would know God's presence in every moment. In modern times, I imagine a text conversation between Martha and Jesus would go something like this. M: Hey, Jesus J: Hi, Martha. What’s up? M: Is Mary with you? J: Yep. M: Really, so she didn’t think I’d need help planning our next church event, and writing an article about it, or uploading photos of our trip to the website. Grrrrr… J: Martha, are you driving? M: Yes, Lord. J: Pull over and then we’ll talk. The lesson Jesus teaches Martha is to not fall into the distractions of life but instead to focus on the goodness that he brings into her life. But then, I have always supposed that distracted driving ends with meeting Jesus sooner than expected. -Fr. Marshall I love watching elephants. A zoo is not a real zoo without them. There is something calming about watching them eat, walk, pick things up with their trunks or just stand still. I don’t have statues or pictures of elephants around the house so this is not an obsession – I simply enjoy watching them be.
In seminary we had annual passes to the Oakland Zoo. A fraction of the San Diego Zoo, it nevertheless had elephants. Every morning, zoologists hide their food. Elephants spend hours searching for breakfast. Employees could just pile the food in one area but that’s not good for the mammoth beasts. Elephants are smart, curious and like to explore. They also need exercise. Hiding their food every day, and finding new places to hide it, keeps the elephants active, thinking and engaged in life. And it makes for a good zoo experience because guests get to watch them walk around, discern and eat. Hiding food is not unique to elephants and is done in many zoos for a variety of different species but all for the same reason; animals need to be mentally engaged and physically active. The only zoo I’ve ever hated was in Moscow, Russia. Our girls wanted to go see it – they’d never seen a zoo or any wild animal for that matter besides an occasional wild dog, rabbit or Russian wolf (which, by the way, you don’t want to mess with). Christi and I teared up several times during the exhibit. I have pictures if you want to be disgusted. The animals were in cages that were nothing more than aging painted train cars. We watched a polar bear walk the same pattern over and over and over and over rubbing up against the bars, turning, and rubbing along them on the other side. It’s like the body was alive but the brain was dead. There was a Russian brown bear, the pride and symbol of the people, with open sores on its worked-over body. It was angry and detached all at the same time. I have a photo of a monkey with a metal collar around its neck and a large chain attached to the center of the rail car. I was ashamed of being human and of giving money to this morally corrupt and horrible traveling group of humans and their enslaved animals. They would throw food to the animals within reach of the chains that held them. No searching or exploring for these animals. Back to happier thoughts of elephants… the pachyderms at the San Diego Safari Park are quite well cared for and, for lack of a better word, happy. The night before our Spring Break visit I had a weird and vivid dream. I think it was God talking to me but I’m still chewing on it. I asked God, as many of you have, too, “Why don’t you just tell me what you want me to know! Why make me pray, think, read the Bible, talk about the dream to other people, and write about it. Why not just tell me plainly.” And then I saw the elephants walking around looking for a hidden carrot or head of lettuce. I saw joy when one found a hidden cache of apples. And now, of course, you have figured out why I like the elephants so much; like me, they need to be challenged into using their minds, imagination, and muscles. God made us smart, curious and in need of daily exercise. Maybe God feeds us spiritual food in the way zoologists feed Elephants. We have to seek and find in order to be fed. Instead of slop buckets and chains around our necks – spiritually speaking, we have to explore and search for it. -Fr. Marshall Christi and I were given tickets to the IMAX Theater in Balboa Park. We went on Sunday afternoon with the intent of watching whatever was showing. She wanted to see National Parks and I wanted to see Jerusalem but we ended up watching Journey to Space. The best part for me was images from the Hubble telescope. To see the mysteries of deep space on such a large screen was powerful. It makes me appreciate the size and scope of God and God’s creation.
I’ve been introduced to a new word. It’s actually an ancient Hebrew word, “Tzintzum” (zimzum) which means to contract/constrict/condensate. These English definitions incorporate physics and chemistry as their basis and are used in childbirth, breathing and turning invisible vapor into visible water. Zimzum is a powerful concept. When used in talking about God, zimzum becomes cosmic. The theological notion of this word is that God contracted/constricted in order to create the physical world. Think of it like good parenting. Prior to children, “you-yourself” filled your entire life. In order to allow a child into your life, you had to contract and make room. I am amazed at families with multiple children because not only do the parents have to zimzum, but so does each child in order to make room for another sibling. Zimzum does not come natural to humans. We tend to do the opposite – we expand and take over everything. Like water in the bathtub, we spread out, covering everything. Imagine the couple that moves from a studio apartment to a three-bedroom house. It doesn’t take long to fill the house. Yet, zimzum is like the grandparents that occupy a 10,000 square foot home but choose to constrict into an 8 by 10 bedroom so that many others can have a roof over their heads. Theologically, this is what God did to make creation; except that the house is the size of the Boeing Everett Factory and the living space is the size of a mini-fridge. Imagine the zimzum it takes for God to be born as a human. It’s a little like Robin Williams’ cartoon portrayal of Aladdin describing what it’s like to live as a genie in a lamp. He said, “PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS!!! … Itty-bitty living space.” That’s zimzum for Jesus and explains why the tomb couldn’t stay occupied for too long. I wonder if Jesus upon ascending into heaven felt as if he could finally breathe again. Zimzum shows me the depth, length and breadth of God’s love. It is strange to imagine someone with phenomenal cosmic powers willingly constricting for a creation that will eventually turn against its creator. It takes a strangle type of love that is willing to take a huge volume of vapor and condense into a single drop of baptismal water. Or that the King of the Universe is willing to be born in a barn to humble parents and to eventually condense onto a cross. That is some kind of love. I think we are called to zimzum for one another. After all, Jesus said, “Deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow me.” Perhaps it is easier said, “Zimzum-like-me.” -Fr. Marshall |