Towel

I was thinking about Rev. Martin Bell today as I wandered in the woods. He came to mind as I journeyed further into muck and mess than I had time or attire for. I'm not sure what drives me forward at such times. Everything logical says to turn around, but there is my curiosity drive, or the sense that it will be better around this curve, or plain stubbornness that turns me (and the dog) into filthy messes.

As I cursed myself for going further than I should, Martin popped into my mind. He was the epitome of what happens to preachers when they slog through muck for too long.

Martin Bell wrote The Way of the Wolf and anyone who went to camp in the 80s has probably heard Barrington Bunny https://peacefullyharsh.com/tag/barrington-bunny/ I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

He moved to St. Ignace and came out of retirement to baptize Elijah. He died not long after we moved to Alaska and I am sorry I didn't get to say good-bye. 

Like many faithful preachers, he was odd. I'm always a bit worried that someday I will pull a "towel". My great memory of him is from a workshop he attended with Kirt. Kirt came home to tell me about this guy who showed up (Martin Bell) with a towel and said to the presenter that life was a lot like a towel. She looked at him and said, "I don't know what you mean by that Martin." 

There is something weird that happens when you are paid to pay attention to life and try to see what good news God is working or breathing into it. There are times I look with great clarity into the horrifying mess of humanity and creation. The darkness is so great when you sit with folks and look into the abuse, terror, and grief of existence. My job is not to sugarcoat or deny any of it or pretend like God is the great fixer. My job is to sit in the darkness with folks and see.

Pablo Picasso, 1911, The Poet (Le poète), Céret, oil on linen, 131.2 × 89.5 cm,
The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice

Here's why pastors become weird. On our good days, we're a bit like Picasso. We realize we can't look straight on into life, the darkness is too great, we have to approach it from every angle and perspective. Somewhere, from one of those angles, will come a glimpse of grace, love, and hope. It's not like putting a spin on a bad situation to make it good, but looking deeply into life for connections with what is the eternal good. 

Some of my connections become a bit abstract because clarity feels like it dismisses the depth and complexity of pain in this world. Some of my connections are just plain weird because my brain is weird. 

I'm thankful for Martin. 

I'm thankful for all the campers I told about the bunny who realized what a gift he was and all he could give to the world including his life. 

I'm thankful for that horrifying line, 
"Next morning, the field mice found their little boy, asleep in the snow, warm and snug beneath the furry carcass of a dead bunny. Their relief and excitement was so great that they didn't even think to question where the bunny had come from." 
That would never pass in a kids' story anymore. Too morbid, too weird. 

I'm thankful for our proclamation at each evening prayer, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."