Before I go on a journey,
particularly if it involves airplane travel, I take time to find a novel to
take along. I try to find a piece of fiction that is engaging and is long
enough to last through long waits in airports. It is sometimes read while on
the plane. I can read for hours, completely at home in the story. Time passes
quickly and is enjoyable.
Matt Haig, in his book, Notes on a Nervous Planet, writes:
In a world that can get too
much, a world where we are running out of mind space, fictional worlds are
essential. They can be an escape from reality, yes, but not an escape from the
truth. Quite the opposite. In the “real” world, I used to struggle with fitting
in. The codes you had to follow. The lies you had to tell. The laughs you had
to fake. Fiction felt not like an escape from truth but a release into it. Even
if its was a truth with monsters or talks of bears, there was always some kind
of truth there. A truth that could keep you sane, or at least you you.
For me reading was never an
antisocial activity. It was deeply social. It was the most profound kind of
socializing there was. A deep connection to the imagination of another human
being. A way to connect without the many filters society normally demands.
Reading … is important because
it gives you room to exist beyond the reality you’re given. It is how humans
merge. How minds connect. Dreams. Empathy. Understanding. Escape.
Reading is love in action.
(-pg238-9)
Reading is love in action. Haig
describes for me what the long readings of the Lent cycle and Holy Week are all
about. Jesus is into the telling of parables – stories wherein we are released
into truth- we experience a deep connection to the imagination of God; a room
beyond our known and experienced reality. A place of possibilities and hope.
Love in action. We are surrounded by God’s expansive imagination and truth in the
parable of the fig tree. The parable of the prodigal son. The Passion narrative.
I don’t know about you, but
every time I come to the story of the prodigal son, I fall into it in a
different place. I hear and experience new truths, learning much about myself
as a human being and where I am in life and my relationships with others. I
become aware of where I am stuck in not living God’s covenant fully. The
prodigal son parable is like falling into a therapy session. And because I know
the story and the characters it feels like a safe place to wander because at
the conclusion of the story, I always come away with feeling that the reading
is love in action – big love, God love.
I have a good friend who explores
scripture by imagining themself in the Gospel story. They insert themself in
the story as they are in their everyday life. While in the story they talk with
the characters, work alongside them, and participate in whatever is going on.
When my friend talks about these journeys I am amazed with the deep
conversations they have with Jesus. My friend often says, “So, I asked Jesus
about that.” Then they tell me about what wisdom they encountered; the truth
that was present. They drop themselves into the story with the expectation that
their experience with Jesus will change them - their perspective, their understanding,
their capacity; their ability to love and be loved. What a powerful way to
enter the Gospel --- God’s story.
Haig, in his writing, draws
on his experience of mental illness and depression. The reading of fiction is
one of the ways he finds healing and wholeness. He writes, “Find a good
book. And sit down and read it. There will be times in our life when you’ll
feel lost and confused. The way back to yourself is through reading. I want to
remember that. The more you read, the more you will know how to find your way
through those difficult times.” _pg266
We have a good book. In fact,
we have many good books, all in one book – the Bible. This year, the focus is
on the Book of Luke and Luke’s telling of the Gospel story. Luke is a master
storyteller. His characters are everyday people, living everyday lives, with
everyday emotions. The stories are understandably human. What appear to be very
human stories are waiting for us to fall into them – to read and relax into
truth. What we find is that the stories, while being very human, are rich with
the presence of God.
This year, as I relaxed into
the story of the prodigal son, and walked around in it, I rested at the gate of
the farm. The prodigal son returns: I saw him coming down the road. The father whoops
and hollers loudly when he sees the son. Shortly thereafter there is a whole
lot of commotion. Large groups of birds are disturbed and fly in circling
masses. Hired hands scurry all over the farm gathering the fixings to host a celebration,
a party with food and dancing. People from the neighbouring countryside are
issued invitations, as the word spreads people start streaming to the farm. At
the gate I see and hear the makings of a party. There is movement and work all
over the estate, along with the noise of that work. I smell the food cooking. The
dust from the road catches in my throat as it swirls behind carts and wagons. It
seems everyone has heard about the party --- except for an oblivious older son,
who doesn’t realize until he pretty much stumbles in the door of the farmhouse.
It is impossible to believe that he had no idea, that his senses missed it all.
How did he miss the excitement and enthusiasm, the commotion and the
preparation?
This is when Truth joins me
at the fence post and taps me on the shoulder and asks me, “are you oblivious?”
I pause because I cast my
gaze on the party at hand. I saw the son come home. I felt the joy of the
father and the love given to the returning son. I was present in the commotion.
I witnessed the daftness of the elder son.
Truth, has not let go of my
shoulder, and whispers, “To what are you oblivious? What is God doing? Where is
love? Where is there rejoicing? Where is there extravagant hospitality?” Truth whispers
it as fact, I am oblivious even though I pride myself on being keenly
observant.
Truth turns and stands in
front of me and looking me in the eye, looking deep inside and repeats, “what are
you missing?”
In this later half of Lent, Truth asks me to
step away from being preoccupied in work and daily tasks, being consumed by
world crisis, from being self-absorbed, and to pay attention to a present God
who is hosting welcome home parties all over the neighbourhood, inviting me to come,
and use my hands to participate with excitement and enthusiasm in the commotion
and preparation for the celebrations.
Truth has spoken to me
through the Gospel story.
This Sunday in Lent we are
given a gift of story. I encourage you to return to story of the prodigal son and
the rejoicing father, Luke 15 starting at verse 11, place yourself in the story,
be released into truth – and find what Truth says to you. Pick up the Gospel of
Luke, sit down and read it. As you read, find the way back to yourself, make
deep connections in all relationships, be healed by the presence of God, and be
inspired by love in action, to be God’s love in action.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.