Loading...For the second month in a row, I find myself looking to the rectory for spiritual inspiration.
The long-delayed repainting work began yesterday and continued today with much scraping and cleaning. Some of the bricks, which have been in their assigned places since about 1880, are seeing the light of day for the first time in at least 25 years.
Already, though, other workers are coming along behind the scrapers to apply the undercoat of “conditioner.” (I speculate that it makes the bricks shinier and easier to comb, but perhaps I’m mistaken.) And so the actual structure of the house will once again be hidden beneath a protective outer layer.
Having some sort of outer layer is often not just desirable but essential. In the case of the rectory, the bricks are soft and would melt (slowly, one hopes) if not sealed against the weather. We also apply such protective layers to ourselves. The issue is less whether they should be there than how we choose them.
Even a casual review of modern culture and entertainment would suggest that sarcasm and irony are quite popular outer layers these days. If we don’t view anything too reverently, how can we be hurt if/when it lets us down? The trouble is that the cynic loses the capacity to recognize and respond to anything of genuine value. Everything bounces off equally, and any change beneath the surface is foreclosed.
Anger and a single-minded focus on a specific grievance is also a common outer layer. In this political season, this has been on frequent display both on the right and on the left. Having a unifying, systematic way of viewing the world and the actions of others can seem attractive. This is, in fact, one thing that religious faith offers us. The difference with religion is the awareness that the justice and righteousness that the believer seeks belong not to him or her, but to God. The believer is only ever an imperfect reflector of the will of the One who judges all.
And perhaps imperfection is the key to a holier and more fruitful – though also more vulnerable – outer surface. An outer layer of love and compassion must be porous. The needs and sorrows of the world cannot simply bounce off, and cannot always be assigned a value based on some simple, black-and-white system. Allowing the deep longing of the world to pass into our hearts enables us to respond from the fullness of our faith, but also risks allowing it to linger and change us. That seems like a good description of what God did for us in Jesus. Can we do any less in response?
The new paint job will soon be done. May it be both durable and beautiful. And may we find the grace to say the same of our own outer layers.
Blessings
Howie+
