Reflection on the Rule: Christian Social Transformation

CHRISTIAN SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION — Praying and working for the coming of the Kingdom of God in metropolitan Richmond.

Do we Christians transform our society?

How do we do that? By sheer force of will? Collective osmosis? Wishful thinking?

Before we become agents of transformation, agents of change, change is required on our part. “Become the change you want to see.” (who said that?) This change comes at a personal level, a molecular, individual level. It involves changing our minds, our hearts, and our behavior, too.

Beginning with our minds, let’s think about our notions of community. What does it mean to you? Community used to mean a group of interacting people, living in some proximity (i.e. space, time, or relationship). It usually refers to a social unit larger than a household that shares common values and has social cohesion. In this time of social media, our digital virtual connections begin to surpass or usurp realtime face-time with our neighbors. We have the possibility of “friending” those who we like, while flaming or conveniently ignoring those we don’t.

Examining our hearts, what do we find? Isolation that is inherent in our digital platforms sneaks up on us. “Me? Lonely? Are you kidding? I have 500+ friends on FB and 637 connections on LinkedIn. Don’t tell me I’m not connected!” To function well in a fully engaged manner, our hearts need to be tuned to both vertical and horizontal frequencies. That is, vibrating on a north-south axis, from the heights of heaven into the depths of our soul. As well as cultivating a horizontal awareness and love of all that surrounds us — in the form of people, places and things.

Now we come to our behavior. This is how our beliefs and intentions manifest themselves in the “real world.” Thoughts and beliefs that are not reflected in some sort of action bear little fruit. We are called to act, but, at the same time, often our actions are constricted, limited by our experiences, fears and failures. 

Jesus brought radical possibility into play with His ministry. He came to set us free from our constraints. And He is waiting to see what we will do with our precious possibility. I’m thinking we could all benefit from an inside-out approach to this transformation process…from inside: get clear, get thinking, and then, get working outside…and see how the Kingdom of God emerges in our own small corner of metropolitan Richmond.

This is Kingdom building, one brick at a time. May it ever be so.

Richard Rumble

October 2013

The work-around the work

There’s such a close connection between location and vocation. Listening to my friend Ben one morning as he shared an experience of his formation where he came to grips with feelings emerging from deep within, I realized just how challenging it is to do a deep dive into the interior realm. It takes courage to go there. And it certainly takes guts to come back out and share whatever you uncovered. Recovered. Or discovered.

So…how does location connect with vocation? Vocation is a calling. If we are listening and paying attention, a response is elicited. Just like the physical universe, for every action there is a reaction. What exactly is the Call? Something you hear? Feel? See?

How do we react when we get the call? Are we flat-footed? Or sure-footed?

Frequently, the locus of the Call lies embedded deeply within our selves. But who possesses the topographical map of their own soul? Over what inner distance or terrain does that Call have to travel before it registers in our consciousness?

Vocation can be cerebral, abstract, remote. Location is visceral, physical, concrete. Let’s look at some of the ways we interpret or discern where we are standing.

Here’s a short list of nine innate intelligences which are very useful for locating where we are:

• Linguistic: the use of verbal language.
• Musical: create, communicate meaning made out of sound.
• Logical: use, appreciate abstract relationships.
• Spatial: perceive, transform, create images from memory.
• Kinesthetic: use all or part of the body to create, solve problems.
• Interpersonal: recognize, make distinctions about others feelings, intentions.
• Intrapersonal: distinguish meaning among one’s own feelings.
• Natural: distinguish among, classify, use features of the environment.
• Existential: raise philosophical questions regarding life’s meaning.

Whichever way you prefer to roll, identifying or recognizing a nudge is a critical first step in responding to your call. The more familiar you become with how you tick, the quicker you may be to react to the prompting of your call.

For ages, sailors have attached small strips of cloth to sails and stays on their boats. These flexible flags of fabric are known as “tell-tales,” and they indicate the presence (or absence) of the wind. Of course, since no one can actually see the wind, these tiny tools prove very useful in sailing, as well as moving oneself from point A to point B.

Where are the tell-tales in your soul? Have you discovered them? In sensing the teasing touch of RUAH (God’s breath) on your shoulder, can you tell where that Wind is coming from? And where you are heading? Make your map. Get a fix. Mark your location. Press on… and into your calling.

Richard Rumble
August 2013

No direction home...

Waiting on Wednesday

Thumbnail of my future. What's next?

Off road, into adventure

Whoa. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I do know when. A couple of weeks ago I had this dream. I dreamt I found a field. I left the road I was on, and turned into this field. I was excited — because I knew that somewhere in this particular field, there was treasure. All I had to do was dig in the right spot, and I would find it.

The shift happened. This is how a wanderer turned into an adventurer. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe I experienced an epiphany of sorts. Maybe just a change in perception. But at a fundamental level, something shifted. Something changed. And possibility, although always out there, came within reach. Amazing!

Since about age 18, I have known myself to be in the wilderness, wandering for almost as long as Moses, feeling every bit as clueless as the lost tribes of Israel as they looked for their promised land. “What kind of season is this, Lord?” I wondered. I wandered. And wandered some more. I had been out there so long I thought I might as well apply for a permanent address.

The lesson might be about understanding where the kingdom lies: is it without, or, within? The kingdom of God lies all around us. So obvious and yet so not. With unmatched, gentle humor, I think God is often hiding things from us in plain sight.

The message to me is: Go on! Just go in. Sure, it takes courage. The reverse of the same kind of courage that called Peter to step out over the gunwhale of all that was familiar to him and start that slip-sliding water walk to the One he loved.

Step out, or, go in…just DO something, for God’s sake! And, for our own sake. Because in the searching comes the finding. In the knocking comes the answering. And the power lies in the process of full engagement. As long as I remain living only in my head, my life is on cruise control — zipping along, safely encased in my mind, I am totally removed from any meaningful engagement in the landscape of my life. How sad and how sterile.

The frightened steward in Matthew’s telling of the talents parable took his talent and buried it in his own backyard. I think that jar of his probably held three cups of wildflower seed, which, had it been scattered over the fertile soil, might have yielded a yard of glory and a riot of delight.

My field is the treasure. I just pray that the soil is good.

Richard Rumble
May 2013

In third place (and loving it)

For the past month, I have listened to some powerful conversations taking place all around me. The range of topics spans remarkable breadths — everything from burning bushes to bus rapid transit.

One factor that made these conversations exceptional was the eclectic variety of folks engaged in the talking — young, old, black, white, men, women, city folk and county folk. How did this come to happen? How do we make space to engage in important conversations? And where do we find the room to listen?

You may think it depends on the presenting issue. And I’ll agree that an issue is a first factor of engagement. But next, it becomes a question of space — head space, heart space, and, finally, meeting space.

What does good listening space look like? Or feel like? It can happen in something called called “third place.”

Here’s how that’s defined in Wikipedia: “The third place (also known as third space) is a term used in the concept of community building to refer to social surroundings separate from the two usual social environments of home and the workplace.

“In his influential book The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg (1989, 1991) argues that third places are important for civil society, democracy, civic engagement, and establishing feelings of a sense of place.

“Oldenburg calls one’s ‘first place’ the home and those that one lives with. The ‘second place’ is the workplace — where people may actually spend most of their time. Third places, then, are ‘anchors’ of community life and facilitate and foster broader, more creative interaction. All societies already have informal meeting places; what is new in modern times is the intentionality of seeking them out as vital to current societal needs.

“Oldenburg suggests the following hallmarks of a true ‘third place’: Free or inexpensive | Food and drink, while not essential, are important | Highly accessible: proximate for many (walking distance) | Involve regulars – those who habitually congregate there | Welcoming and comfortable | Both new friends and old should be found there.”

Some of these attributes are the hallmarks of monastic hospitality. Most of them are covered in our Rule of Life here at Richmond Hill.

Come up, come in, say a prayer, have a cup of coffee. Slip into third place. And let’s talk about transforming this metropolitan City of ours.

Richard Rumble
April 2013

Hearting our heading

Last month at Thursday Montage (an informal gathering of artists in the Richmond Hill art space), Andrew Terry shared his banner—an art object he made 6-7 years ago—that articulated for him a unique understanding of where he was/is headed.

He mapped his call. He “pictured” his idea, his longing, his place. Andrew might tell you he is not an artist, but he used these artist tools: imagination, hands, heart—and he created a map of his own making. He devised a vision, if not a place, of where he is heading. And he pondered it in his heart.

When his seminary studies were complete, Andrew received two wonderful job offers. How did he pick the place where he is? He went with what was in his heart. And the banner helped him see it clearly.

So, can hearting have an impact on heading? How do we pay attention to our interior signs? (Is this a personal showing of prophecy?)

Who planted the desire in our hearts in the first place?  It can take a lifetime to figure out what is there. That task is not easy. With all that's going on around us it is hard to pay attention to what's going on within.

Sometimes, there is the possibility of a leaping heart, as in “my heart leapt at” the sound of her voice, or the sight of his smile—the sight or sound of something we know to be significant comes from deep within our core. We may not have ever seen it or heard it before, but when we do experience it, we recognize it immediately as holding some big significance for us.

If we cannot find the feeling firsthand, there are other means to point our way. Words, story, or poetry often can carry the clues to where we are heading, by showing us what touches our heart.

What about hurt? Does hurting affect hearting? Sometimes it does. Hurt and pain can point to the end of a road. The hurt from an aching heart can be a big indicator of loss.

And loss can point us in the direction of found.

Hearting helps with heading. It serves to balance logic with emotion. It gets us to the neighborhood of where we want to go. If you operate with “I’ll know it when I see it,” then drawing close is almost as good as being there. For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he (Proverbs 23:7). But Goethe says it best: “Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.”

Richard Rumble
February 2013

Epiphany: Walking into the light

In the aftermath of the holidays I’ve been walking. Literally, through the neighborhood on Church Hill, using “Map My Walk” (my first “app”) to chart my way as I go out each morning into the chill dawn of a new day. But also figuratively, as I navigate a major redesign and overhaul of our Richmond Hill web site.

With this web project I’ve come into a wilderness of the unknown, along with a few well-known traveling companions: Fear, Doubt and Uncertainty. Worse than the persistent, annoying comments coming from a 5-year-old in the backseat during a long car trip, these companions have replaced “Are we there yet?” with “You are so lost!” and “You'll never get out of this alive.”

I wonder as I walk. Where will this path take me? Where am I headed?

Ever notice, as we walk through our lives, how often it’s hard to know exactly where we are headed?

Sure, you can tell whether you’re going up or down a hill, and the sun provides helpful clues — is this East? West? North? Or South? These clues are good for telling you where you are. But what about where you are going? What journey are you taking?

Journeying is a process. As I’ve said before, the kind of journey is important. Is this a pilgrimage? Or are you wayfaring? What about transformation? It too is a process, and can share many aspects of both pilgrimage and wayfaring. Perhaps transformation is our destination, and pilgrimage or wayfaring are merely the means by which we reach that final goal.

Journeys are not to be taken without direction, or, without  asking for direction(s). Who we ask and who we listen to can impact the outcome of each and any journey.

I subscribe to the Word of the Day. It is a daily affirmation appearing in my inbox from Gratefulness.org. What showed up on the Winter Solstice last month were these words from scholar and political theorist John Schaar: “The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made. And the activity of making them changes both the maker and the destination.”

I find this to be helpful advice — what it lacks in clear direction it makes up for in encouragement to press on. Prayer also limits the chatter from my foes in the backseat of my mind. You simply can’t beat a good Celtic blessing like this:

O God, make clear to us each road.
O God, make safe to us each steep;
When we stumble, hold us;
When we fall, lift us up.
When we are hard-pressed with evil, deliver us;
and bring us at last to Your glory.

May God bless and keep you safe as you journey into the light of this new year.

Richard Rumble
January 2013

Walking the Kingdom Walk

A while back in the Fall, I was enjoying some good conversation with Henry Simmons. We were discussing differences between pilgrimage and wayfaring: how the pilgrim knows where s(he)’s heading, but often wayfarers don’t know until they arrive. “Ah, yes,” said Henry. “But remember now, the pilgrim is different on their return.”

This got me to thinking about Advent and the Three Kings. They took a risky journey at great expense. They brought forth their gifts and paid their hommage to a most humble King. Who changed who? And how was life for them upon the return to their kingdoms?

Picturing myself in that story, I decided to write a song about that pilgrimage. I called it Walking the Kingdom Walk. Here’s how it goes:

Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind

Was I coming?  Was I going?
I don’t know—it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load

Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk

Was I coming?  Was I going?
I don’t know — maybe You’ll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine

Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!

Was I giving?  Or receiving?
I don’t know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer

Was I giving?  Or receiving?
It’s both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.

Reflection on the Rule: Prayer

PRAYER—Practicing a spiritual discipline that includes daily prayer for metropolitan Richmond in concert with the Richmond Hill Community.

What is this all about? Practicing a discipline? Or, disciplining a practice? Let’s break it down and see if we can get a handle on this important rule.

There are many kinds of prayer. In our tradition, the list can run long. According to Richard Foster, a Quaker who writes deeply and eloquently on both the subject of prayer and spiritual discipline, there are at least 21 categories of prayer. If that seems as daunting to you as it does to me, let me mention that Annie LaMott has boiled down all prayer to three singular words: Help! Thanks! Wow!

Categorically, that rolls up into petition, gratitude and praise. And that pretty much covers all the bases. How does this broad covering of prayer work into the Richmond Hill Rule of Life? Our rule provides us a framework which delineates some very concrete specifics—pointing to key boundaries of person, time and place.

First, the boundary of person. This is a spiritual discipline, involving not only the body, but the mind and soul as well. It could be akin to soul calisthenics—regular, rigorous exercise, played however you like—or, you could be quiet and yoga-like. The most important factor is your engagement.

The second boundary is time. This rule calls for practice daily, engaging in prayer at least once every 24 hours. Of course you can increase the frequency if you like and if you are able. Monks have a tradition of praying the Hours. They took the 24 hours that make a day and divided by 3 (in deference to the Holy Trinity). This yields eight 3-hour periods, designated “Hours”: I. Vigils (12 am - 3 am), II. Lauds (3 am - 6 am), III. Prime (6 am - 9 am), IV. Terce (9 am - 12 pm), V. Sext (12 pm - 3 pm), VI. None (3 pm - 6 pm), VII. Vespers (6 pm - 9 pm), VIII. Compline (9 pm - 12 pm). Here at Richmond Hill, we offer our prayers for the City at three times: 7 am, noon, and 6 pm, seven days of the week.

The last boundary is place. We pray specifically for the geography of this metropolitan area called Richmond. Metropolitan Richmond forms a single city of more than 1.3 million people, divided into 11 jurisdictions.

The next time you visit Richmond Hill, I invite you to pick up the Rule of Life and Weekly Prayer Cycle. This tiny pamphlet puts us all on the same page as we join together in praying for the healing of metropolitan Richmond (“Help!”), for the welfare of all our citizens (“Thanks!”), and for the establishment of God's order in our community (“Wow!”).

Amen!

Richard Rumble
November 2012

Reflection on the Rule: Hospitality

HOSPITALITY—Living one’s life in service to others, in a commitment to welcome guests in love and a spirit of prayer.


Of the twelve Rules that bind us together as a community and keep us going up here at Richmond Hill, this is a biggie. I happen to think this rule is one powerful catalytic converter that can help bring about change and transformation in the City.

Hospitality’s Latin root is “hospes,” meaning “to have power over.” In its own quiet way, hospitality can be quite powerful. I’m not surprised to see “hospital” at root in there as well — since this is a word that brings transforming healing with it wherever it is present.

Culture today is so hectic and fast-paced, it seems we rarely have time for hospitality any more. Many of us are hustling so hard to make ends meet, no one is ever home to experience hospitality, much less to teach it to our children. We’ve come to regard it as a nice option, forgetting that in the culture of our nomadic ancestors, hospitality was a law that helped them survive the treacherous climate of the desert they inhabited.

These days, many of us inhabit virtual deserts, where we live isolated lives, locked in routines and locked in our cars. Cut off from living community, we invest our time and energy in constructing and maintaining virtual community, where Facebook replaces face time.

Hospitality is simply not digital. It is an analog, real-time art form. What makes it work is not just smiling, opening the door, or putting good food on the table. Or doing the dishes. Or cleaning up after someone departs. All of these are important actions, but, if rendered merely out of habit, they become perfunctory and superficial. Hardly the stuff of effective, transformative change.

Hospitality works its magic in the anticipation of arrival. Hospitable posture is modeled for us in scripture by both Mary and Martha, as well as the prodigal son’s father. It is all about believing in abundance. And being willing to share with others from the outpouring of grace we have experienced in our own lives. It anticipates another’s needs, graciously meeting them, often before they are spoken or even known.

Hospitality is an affirmation of grace. It is the joy of giving—whether that gift be food, water, rest, or a kind word. It’s all good. And it all works toward transforming change. Sometimes, all that is required is opening one’s eyes, ear, or hand. At the root of these gestures is the open heart, and that, dear friends, is the real agent of change.

Richard Rumble
October 2012

Life, neat & tidy — or, down to earth?

Lord, why is this life of mine so messy?  I’d like to think that if it were up to me, my life would be neat and tidy. Actually, there is precious little in my life that would pass for neat and tidy. So, what’s this big attraction I have for neatness?  

Neatness means no surprises, nothing unexpected. It demonstrates how well one has matters firmly in hand. Master of one’s fate. Living large and in charge.

Neatness is about no uncertainty showing. No rough edges. No turned up corners. No fuss, no muss. Neat may be tidy, but it’s not real life. 

Neatness is about appearances. It is all about control, and control of this life is an illusion.

Neatness as a life philosophy may be over-rated. 

Why?  Because, life is a messy business. You want a clear explanations — a solid understanding of what’s going on around you?   So sorry, dude, I can’t help you there. 

Dear Lord, keep me humble. 

Humble. The root of this is humus, the Latin word meaning earth. From this we get the concept of humility.

Humility. Grounded. Down to earth becomes of the earth. Of the earth means close to the ground, and that would be heading in a direction opposite to those lofty regions where pride dwells.  Ah, pride — that high opinion of one self, so richly deserved.

When pride takes a pounding, it hurts. We feel brought low. Grounded. As painful as this comedown can be, when it happens, often it can be a very good thing. 

Grounded is where the foundation is. Staying grounded helps keeps one in touch with one’s roots. How is healthy growth possible when one is cut off from one’s roots? 

We are born with a desire to ascend to the heights. How are we to cope with the strong desire for upward mobility? We live caught in a pull between the earthy and the heavenly, rising and falling. Riding up and down, living one’s life on a yo-yo string.

In high school, I was taught the lesson that a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, and our culture certainly admires and encourages this tendency. But a single-minded focus on ascendency is not in keeping with living a well-balanced life. 

Living well requires us to live with tension. Feet squarely on the ground, careful not to get too puffed up. If any part of us is to ascend, let it be our eyes, our prayers and our praise.

Richard Rumble

September 2012

The turning point

As we run down the road, how do we adjust the trajectory of our lives? What’s it like for you? Quick! Turn here! Or, shoot, I missed it… guess I’d better turn around and go back?

Perhaps the question is determined by who is driving the vehicle. Who sits in the driver’s seat? And, who came up with this particular destination in the first place?

What we are talking about here is navigation. Global positioning. In our world of OnStar, MapQuest and smart phones, one need not remain directionally challenged. But how about spiritual direction? Where does one find the spiritual GPS app to help you along your spiritual journey?

I’m surprised how I have consistently embarked on significant life journeys with no solid idea where I was going. I’ve yet to do that in a car. I mean really, who gets in a car, fires up the ignition, puts it in gear, and then says “I have no clue where I'm going. I guess  I'll know it when I see it?” But I must confess, that is exactly what I’ve done — with college, with careers, wives, and children.

How do we know which way to turn?

The basic question is one of pilgrimage vs. wayfaring. There is a difference. Pilgrimage is linear, with a well-defined beginning, middle and end. The pilgrim’s journey is one of the road. Sure, there might be hardship and sacrifice, but you always know where you are going.

Wayfaring is far less specific. You set out, unsure of the exact end, but you’ll know it when you see it. Wayfaring is like traversing the deep blue ocean. Think Christopher Columbus.

It’s not as though one must choose one way over the other to get around in this life. But I believe we have an innate preference for how we like to journey.

The clearest model of this dichotomy I’ve seen is the labyrinth. Here at Richmond Hill, we have one, and it’s called the Jerusalem Mile. There is no right or wrong way to walk the Mile. Nothing to it but to do it. Step up, step in, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and guess what? You will arrive at the center.

The object lesson here is two-fold. One, you have to show up.  And two, you must engage the process. Along the way, there will be reversals, switchbacks, and headings directly away from your goal. Just like real life.

But, if you stay faithful and stay the course, regardless of how many times you get turned around, you will reach your destination. Keeping some Scripture in the glove compartment is also a good idea. Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. —(Psalm 119:105)

Richard Rumble
August 2012

God willing

Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done …

I wonder. For all the times the Lord's Prayer is prayed, by me and millions of other folks, how does God’s will get done? Each and every time we say that prayer, at the outset, we delineate a far reaching goal: connecting the coming of the Kingdom with successfully doing our Lord’s will.

Are wishing and willing connected? Where is the tipping point between wishing that something might happen and willing to make it so?  To that end, I believe we each have parts to play, key roles, in the fulfillment of our Maker’s master plan.

Some years ago, I visited my parents while they lived in their old house at the end of 52nd Street in Virginia Beach. Across the street from the house is Crystal Lake, where my Dad kept a sailboat moored. There was a nice breeze blowing and he invited me to go for a sail with him. Once we were underway out on the lake he asked if I’d like to take a turn at the helm. “Sure!” I replied as I clambered aft to the tiller.

As I sat back there, tiller in hand, suddenly I was unsure about what had to happen next. Where was the wind that was keeping us moving? How does one stay in its flow? “Mind your point of sail,” my father kept admonishing me. “Right, Dad,” I replied. “Uh, what’s a point of sail?”

“Look off the bow of the boat; what do you see?” he said. “Just a bunch of trees on the far side of the lake,” I replied. “That is not specific enough to be helpful. Pick one that's distinctive and head for it,” he suggested. “What if I pick the wrong one?” I said.

“There is no wrong one – just make your choice. That establishes your heading. Once you have a direction, then you can make whatever adjustments necessary to keep you on course. Understand?” he asked.

“I get it!”

And thus I received my first sailing lesson, plus, an incredibly valuable life lesson. Picking and choosing are integral components in navigating the waters of our existence. And as God’s children, we are endowed with the capacity of free will. This capacity can be used for good, or ill – it’s up to us to decide.

This responsibility can be heavy at times. At other times, it can be exhilarating.

I have not seen God’s final chart or plan for the Kingdom, but I believe we must move on anyway, often sailing by the seat of our pants. When it comes to taking action, the only tell-tale on which  I can rely is this: “Will this build up the Kingdom? Or, tear it down?” In God’s grand scheme, am I saying yes? Or no?

I’m wishing for yes. And God willing, may it be so.

Richard Rumble
June 2012

High expectations

Hope. And expectation. Are these words synonyms? Or do they define different ends of the same spectrum? How are they connected? Which of these is under our control? What lessons do these words, these concepts teach us?

How important is it to have them present in one’s life? I mean, is there such a thing as a minimum daily requirement of hope? Or expectation? (“Honey, did you take your expectation today, like I told you?”) 

Can one live one’s life without one or the other (or both) of these words? How foundational are they to a healthy existence? (At this point, I’m wondering: can I write an entire article in the form of running questions?)

Recently, I heard the author and contemporary theologian Brian McLaren define expectation as: “Disappointment that hasn’t happened – yet.” I laughed when I heard this because I’ve lived this experience. I recognize it as a pattern in my life – generally with me being a primal instigator of much disappointment. And thereby earning the title of expectation spoiler extraordinaire.

So, are both hope and expectation fragile? Expectations certainly can be. But I think of hope as being more sturdy. Durable. Enduring. Not so lightly dashed. 

Perhaps sturdiness is all relative, and dependent on its respective source. Wishes and expectations come from within ourselves. And they can be so fragile. As such, have very little assurance of coming to be. Sometimes, hope, as a verb, is also ephemeral. Elusive. “Did I get that right? Gee, I hope so.”

But hope, as a noun, is a different thing altogether. Hope comes from without. We place our hope in things outside of our own selves. And hope is enduring. In the visual vernacular of Christianity, the virtue of hope is sometimes portrayed as an anchor. An anchor provides a safe mooring, preventing one from perilous drifting. 

In his first letter to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul wrote about the three virtues essential for a solid Christian life. “And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these  is love.” Faith is a gift. Love we can generate. And hope? We aspire to hope. To me, hope is a deep yearning for that far-off time or place where, in the wonderful words of Dame Julian of Norwich: “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

I have faith that place exists. And, I would so love to see it. Do I expect to get there? Dear God, I hope so.

Richard Rumble
May 2012

Chasing rabbits

Ah, the thrill of the chase! There's nothing quite like it, is there? We are born to pursue things in this life. To honor that inclination is a good thing. And to recognize how this tendency toward hot pursuit sometimes leads to frustration is a wise thing.

One Friday not too long ago, 35 middle school kids from Temple Beth Ahabah came up to Richmond Hill for a retreat weekend for their Confirmation class. Their energy and enthusiasm was inspiring. If there is such a thing as reincarnation (does God grant us spiritual Mulligans?), my wish might be to come back Jewish. I love how connected some Jews seem to be to life, to love, to each other.

For a long time I envied my Jewish friends for their seemingly effortless ease in playing games of worldly success. Were they smarter than me? More savvy? Somewhere along the line, a Jewish friend explained how his theology allowed for the love of God, but that love is all here now. For him, there was no afterlife. This is all there is. This is it. You get this one chance — you best make the most of it.

What? No after-life? The thought of an eternity with nothing going on was too much for me to handle.

Christians do believe in life hereafter, and that belief in Eternal Life shapes our choices. Choices in this world may have ramifications in the next. We live torn between realms, as if we're chasing two rabbits. I saw how liberating my friend's theology was — how it simplified things. His field of focus was limited to here  and now. What elegant simplicity.

When it comes to decision-making, I often struggle. How does one decide between a good thing, the right thing, and, the best thing to do? Deep down, I want to do the right thing, the best thing, the thing that God wants me to do. Or, that God needs me to do. How does one figure out which is which?

In the RUAH School of Spiritual Guidance, we devote a whole study section to discernment. (Ignatius of Loyola spent the second half of his life studying how to discern; we spent a weekend — it’s not much, but it's a start). We are not robots, programmed to execute God's will. We are not God's puppets, responding to the tug of a string in our soul. God endowed us with our own free will. And God is curious to see what we come up with. Seeking God's will is not a test, it is a dance.

We come to know and do the will of God through active engagement in a process of desiring, discerning, and choosing. George Herbert said it well, “Enrich, Lord, heart, hands, mouth   in me — with faith, with hope and charity, that I may run, rise, rest in Thee.”

Pursue the prey. And pray the pursuit. Ah, the thrill of the chase! There's nothing quite like it, is there?

Richard Rumble
April 2012