Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Corn!



Do all little girls go through a unicorn phase? I know I did. I must have been five or six... I don't remember how it came into my possession - but I was the proud owner of a porcelain music box with a rearing white unicorn atop its smooth round pedestal. I loved to turn the little brass key on the underside of the box, then prop it on the white wooden windowsill in my bedroom - and watch it twirl round and round in the sunlight, its music wafting out the door and down the dark hallway into the dining room.


Audrey acquired the luminous "Corn" - as she calls him - from Nanny. She loves to put him in her butterfly net. They travel everywhere together, Corn and Audrey. And when we leave the house to run errands she drags her blankets into the car and makes a nest for Corn so that he can rest snugly while we drive around town because, "He really has to take a resty time! Otherwise, he'll be cranky."

Monday, March 7, 2011

Two Sisters; Part the First: the Go-getter

Image: John Singer Sargent, "Venetian Interior"

“Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met him: but Mary sat [still] in the house.” ~John 11.20

When Lazarus of Bethany – beloved brother to Mary and Martha, and friend of Christ – becomes gravely ill, and one doctor after another has wrung his hands in despondency, telling his sisters bleakly not to hope, both women know just what to do: they must call Jesus. They know Jesus is no ordinary friend – He is a Prophet, sent from God - and they believe His very Presence at the sickbed of their brother will heal him instantly. Thus they waste no time engaging a messenger: “Lord, the one whom you love is sick,” says he to Jesus.

They are simple words - yet robust in meaning: for they convey, with startling acuity, the sisters' profound confidence in Christ's love for their brother - a love so deep they need not mention him by name.

Then, after the message has been sent – what can they do but wait?

It is uncertain how much time elapses before Christ's arrival, but one can imagine what this waiting may have been like. Two sisters taking turns - Mary blotting her brother’s brow with a cool, wet cloth while Martha watches at the window, sweeps the stair. one ear cocked to the road, straining for some sound or signal of His approach… Hours pass, morning is swallowed up by afternoon, but still there is no sign of Christ. By break of day, Lazarus has grown worse; he is groaning and sighing and telling his sisters he cannot hold on.

Do they exchange anxious looks? Or avert each other’s eyes, choosing, instead, to ply their brother with assurances: “He is coming; He is coming. You must hold on.”

But Lazarus cannot hold on. By the time the sun has crested in the hazy, cloudless sky – it is too late. Lazarus's limbs have all gone slack, and he is resting – not in sleep, but in death. Midst their numbness and bafflement, their heart-hurt and weeping, these sisters must wrap Lazarus in a burial shroud; they must array themselves in grieving garments and attend his body to the tomb.

Three long days pass by with agonizing slowness. They may as well have been years.

Do the sisters privately exchange possible reasons as to why their Friend and Savior did not come? Surely they try to be generous; try not to give in to dark thoughts - yet all the while their feelings of disappointment mingle with feelings of betrayal, perhaps even deep, deep despair, as the question sinks deeper into the deepest hollows of their souls: why, oh! -- why hadn’t He come?

Meanwhile amongst the mourners there is a buzz: “Look; see? This man Jesus - He is not the Christ; He cannot be.” “Would the Savior of the World abandon His friends in their hour of greatest need?” “Would He who is said to be capable of anything do absolutely nothing to help those He claims to love?”

It isn’t until the morning of the fourth day that Christ is spotted on the road – “He is coming! He is coming!” someone shouts, “He is near to Bethany! He is on His way to the door!”

And it is precisely here, at this moment of great tension, that the essential differences between Martha and Mary are dramatically expressed. John tells us, “Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met him: but Mary sat [still] in the house.” The distinction is subtle but profound: “Martha…went and met…but Mary sat still…” (11.20, italics mine).

In the core of her person, Martha has interpreted her brother’s death as an accident which could have been avoided; an error which she must take it upon herself to rectify. In this small act of leaving home, Martha reveals herself to be the quintessential go-getter –literally leaving her house full of guests to go and get - first Jesus, and later Mary.

It may be a bit of a stretch but, on rare occasions, the word that is used for “went and met” connotes a hostile meeting, such as in Matthew 8.28 when the same word is used to describe Jesus’ encounter with two demon-possessed men who are described as “exceedingly fierce.”

Thus it is tempting to consider whether there may have been a note of hostility in Martha’s countenance when she rushed to meet Jesus. Could her first words of address - "Lord if you had been here our brother would not have died." - been laced with reproach? Might she have spoken them as an an accusation? “Lord if you had been here our brother would not have died!”

Significantly, after she speaks, Martha does not wait for Christ to answer. Instead, she says, “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you” (John 11.22). Pause a moment, and consider: what is Martha is really saying? Is this an expression of faith in Christ? Perhaps, in part.

But there is an idiomatic expression we “post-moderns” use to describe this kind of language: we call it passive-aggressive. Martha doesn’t come out and bluntly ask Jesus to perform a miracle; instead, she insinuates and implies. This could be because she doubts Christ's ability to grant her request; or perhaps she simply does not want to humble herself by asking Him for something she feels He should have done in the first place.

Then Christ says something remarkable: “Your brother will rise again.” Notably absent in Martha’s reply is any sense of wonder, awe, or gratitude. She does not respond in faith and submission – as do most recipients of revelation. In fact, Martha says nothing to indicate that she believes Christ is actually speaking to her present situation. “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day,” she says (italics mine).

It is the tone we have all taken when some poor soul tries to tell us something we’ve heard a thousand times and are sure we already know. We are polite but insincere: “I know…”

Martha assumes – without asking for clarification – that the resurrection to which Christ is referring will occur on “the last day,” the Day of Reckoning, when the Messiah returns to judge the world. Tragically, Martha does not really hear a single word Jesus is saying. In one sense, one could argue that she does not hear because she is not really listening; but in another, more heartbreaking sense, Martha literally cannot hear Christ - or even begin to grasp His purpose for her situation - because she is so utterly absorbed in her own.

But Christ – who knows Martha’s thoughts and motives before she herself does – is unrelenting in His pursuit of Martha's heart: “I am the resurrection and the life,” says Jesus, “He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"

Christ's words are like a provocation, inciting Martha to believe that He is, in fact, the Son of God. But Martha’s reply is remote, even guarded: "Yes, Lord," she says, “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.” Martha gives intellectual assent to the idea that Christ is the Messiah and Savior of the world; but the Christ Who stands before her does not touch her personally; He does not penetrate into the world of her present pains and hardships.

If we put ourselves in her situation, this is not so hard to understand: for from Martha’s limited perspective, Christ has failed her. The gulf between her expectations and His provision is too wide, she cannot cross it. The burden of her suffering is too immense – she cannot lift or leave it. And so, like the rich young ruler whose great wealth crippled Him from following Jesus, Martha walks away. She walks away from the Living God of the Universe, and calls her sister, “saying secretly, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you’” (John 11.28).

Notice that Scripture does not say that Christ calls for Mary; instead, it says that Martha tells Mary that Christ has called her. But could Martha’s retrieval of Mary been a contrivance? Could this errand, this act of going and getting Mary, have been, for Martha, the last in a long string of tactics to get Christ to resurrect her brother? “Christ may have been unwilling to grant my request," I imagine her thinking bitterly, "but surely He will not deny my sister hers. For I know how much He loves her."

Here, perhaps, lies the real tragedy in the story of Lazarus and his sisters: for it is not Christ's failure to arrive in time, but Martha's failure to trust Him - and to believe that He loves her, no matter what circumstances may say.

How often, when tragedy strikes – or some relationship or hard-wrought endeavor, which I have deemed vitally important to my life – “fails” do I run direct to Jesus and demand reparations, begging Him to right the wrong, settle the misunderstanding, amend the oversight, and undo what has been done instead of trusting that the same God who spoke the universe into existence may just have a plan which - in all perfectness - He is in the process of unfolding?

"Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent that you may believe” (John 11:15).

"...to the intent that you may believe." God always has a purpose in every pain; and His purpose is always good. Rarely does He answer in the way we expect - but He always answers, and if we are willing to wait on Him, He will bring about a result that exceeds even our wildest expectations.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Springing for Spring



It isn't autumn season; quite the opposite, in fact, but one look at this evening's sunset and I was all whoops and cheers - dumb-founded and awe-struck, and driven to reread these lovely lines by Hopkins, in his aptly named poem, Hurrahing for Harvest. It begs repeating:

"Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, willful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world wielding shoulder
Majestic as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! –
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet."

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The Love Month


They say February is the Love Month. For us, it was the month of sickness and fatigue...as well as endless loads of laundry. Perhaps the one upside is that I got a lot of pictures of the girls in their pajamas; nevertheless, I am welcoming the season of Spring with open arms.

Friday, February 25, 2011

i really love my blankie

A Lovely Man


It was getting close to the time of Nanny's arrival. Aud helped me pick the blocks up off the carpet and, yes, even mop the floor - at least, she did a marvelous job sloshing water around as if this were the most important thing in the world. I was carrying a stack of clean towels downstairs when I found her sitting on the bottom step, stacking magnets. "Audrey," I said, "will you go ask Da to carry the vacuum down?" "Sure," she said, and scampered up the steps two at a time. "DA," I heard her call, "Mommy wants to know if you can carry the vacuum downstairs to Nanny's room!" Dutch said he would and Audrey threw up an enthusiastic yip. "Oh, Hessel," she said, in as grown up a voice as I've heard her affect, "you're such a lovely man!"

Monday, February 14, 2011

a recipe for love





celery + onions + cornbread + birds = love

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

A Gift from Bennett's Millinery

One Saturday in January Audrey and I went to the Library Sale. In half an hour I had filled my bag with biographies of Isak Dinesen and Willa Cather, a history of the Third Reich, and a two-volume copy of the Gulag Archipelego. Audrey found a pristine hard-cover edition of "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and was swimming in happiness. We exited the building like a couple of hummingbirds just come in from a field full of wildflowers. It was then we noticed an antique shop across the street, its front window filled with enormous conch shells and white coral specimens so big they looked like ancient pieces of driftwood. We went inside and wandered through the musty rooms. Hanging against a wood-planked wall, on a crooked nail, were several old hats. One of them, a creamy white one with costume jewels stitched onto the bill, caught Audrey's eye. "Oh, may I see it, Mom? May I try it on?" I could not but comply. "Oh, please can you get it for me, Mom - for my birthday? For March 'Teen?" I turned the hat upside down. It had three tags - the first said it was a Frances & Walter Helkin hat. The second, that it was from Bennett's Millinery in Evanston, Illinois; best of all the hat was stamped with a seal that read: "Melusine Registered; Made in Czechoslavakia." I considered that a Melusine hat from Bennett's Millinery is probably an uncommon request from a three-year-old, and when I walked out of the store the hat was tied up with string, in a box under my arm. Upon returning home I shoved the box onto a shelf in my closet... today someone spied the box and opened it... She very much liked what she saw.

Christ, the Shepherd and Bridegroom of our souls


“When Jacob saw Rachel daughter of Laban, his mother’s brother, and Laban’s sheep, he went over and rolled the stone away from the mouth of the well and watered his uncle’s sheep."

It is a familiar story, this story of Jacob’s first encounter with his future bride; and as a story it has been passed down for generations, from father to son and mother to daughter, for generations.

Jacob, son of Isaac, grandson of Abraham, flees his father’s house and journeys to the land of his mother’s people, where he hopes to find a wife. Along the way he stops to rest, using a rock for a pillow, and dreams an uncommon dream in which he sees a stairway, thronged with angels. There, at the top of the stair, stands the Lord, the God over all Creation: "I am the God of your father Abraham,” the Lord says, “and the God of Isaac. …I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go…I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised” (Gen. 28:13-15).

The next day Jacob arrives on the outskirts of a country he has never visited, but which he knows is the country of his mother’s brother, a man called Laban. He sees a well in a field, surrounded by three flocks of thirsty sheep. But the mouth of the well is blocked by a large stone. This, conceivably, does not surprise Jacob – as it was the custom of that time for shepherds to wait until all the flocks had been gathered before watering the sheep (Gen.29.3).

I imagine the sight of the shepherds roused Jacob’s interest, and inspired him to overcome whatever fatigue might have been slowing and stiffening his weary limbs. “Do you know a man called Laban, Nahor’s grandson?” he asks the shepherds, with some urgency. “Yes,” they say, “we know him. And here comes his daughter Rachel with the sheep.”

A coincidence? Perhaps. But Jacob recognizes in this chance encounter the providential guidance of a faithful God. For the moment his somnolent eyes fall onto Rachel’s lovely form it seems that a chill like a lightening rod passes through his being, electrifying him into spontaneous action: “he went over and rolled the stone away from the mouth of the well and watered his uncle’s sheep.”

I, too, when my somnolent eyes swept over this story, was electrified by certain narrative elements - elements which have always been there, but which, until recently, I had never "seen" before: a well, sealed behind an enormous stone; three flocks of thirsty sheep; and – most riveting of all – a shepherd, moved out of love for a woman he does not yet know, to apply all the force of his strength to roll away the stone and water the sheep which have been entrusted to her care.

A coincidence? Perhaps. Or could these details be strung together to foretell a different narrative? Could they stand like a flaming arrow, pointing to Jesus Christ, that great Shepherd and Bridegroom of our souls?

Indeed, in Jacob I see the distant echo of another Shepherd, a Heavenly One, who out of love for His bride – the church – entered history some two thousand years later, to live and die and roll away an infinitely larger stone so that His sheep could receive the water of everlasting life. Thus Jacob the man serves as a kind of type of Christ - the biographical details of his human life anticipate the coming of Christ, and his shortcomings as a human being underscore the need for His coming.

In the same way, in the character of Rachel – that outwardly beautiful but inwardly idolatrous woman – I see the bride of Christ.

Put another way, in the character of Rachel I see myself – a bride in need of cleansing (Eph. 5.25-27); a woman gripped by petty jealousies, and fear; deceived and deceiving; an unfaithful wife who would willingly cling to worthless idols rather than entrust herself completely to the loving care of a God whose faithfulness has been demonstrated countless times before.

"But Jacob loved her.” And so Christ loves us. Broken, misguided creatures though we are… He loves us; and like Jacob, who proved His love for Rachel by working fourteen years in her father's pastures, tending sheep that were not his own - so Jesus Christ has proven His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, He died for us. "I am the good shepherd," Jesus said on the night He was betrayed, "and the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep...No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord."

This, among an infinite number of other things, is what I love about the Word of God - for just as God breathed life into man so that he became a human being, so He breathes Christ into Scripture, making it a living thing through which Christ speaks to us across ages, in the precise and complicated circumstances in which we live.

"I am the good shepherd," says Jesus, "and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice."

O, Living Christ, attune my heart to the sound of your voice... May It be the guiding principle of my life, my strength in times of weakness, my consolation in despair; a light that shatters even the darkest darkness, bidding me onward and upward, into eternity.

“But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away.” ~Mark 16.4


*Photo by Peter Buncombe Photography*

Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Silas and Audrey Shoooow






All he wanted was a little space to eat his snack and watch his show. But this proved to be too much to ask. Way, way too much.

Thursday, February 3, 2011