I wept for my Father

The first time I wept for my father was when he died. He died with only his wife and two of his three sons by his side and his older sister. There was no one else in his life. No funeral, no memorial was held. The Chaplin of the local Armed Forces base, the one he retired out of, came and led us in a short prayer for him.

        I wept of what had become of his life. In the end, he was alone. Those who gathered to witness his passing had done so mostly out of obligation.

Most of my life the relationship with my father has been as complicated as it was strained. As a young child I remember being almost ecstatic when he came home from work. Then, life changed. The structure of the army, that had kept him functional, had been replaced with the anesthetic of alcohol. It did not take long for him to deteriorate into the mayhem of alcoholism. By the time I was seven I knew we were in trouble.

        My father has been a target of my derision and pity for most of my life. My father was not a passive participant in this process. There were glimpses of compassion, I realized he was a damaged soul. This was a result of coming terms with my own addiction to alcohol and other drugs. I realized that if I did not choose that life, perhaps my father had not chosen it either. Yet, I knew my life had been irrevocably altered through my experiences with him. I resented him for the hardships that had become more than visitors in my life.

Most recently, I wept on Remembrance Day. To say my father survived the Second World War would use a broad definition of ‘survive’. He had been in a vehicular accident and had been left for dead. It was only when the body recovery unit came to collect him that it was realized that he was still alive. He had suffered a massive brain injury. What other traumas he experienced I have no idea. The man that came home was not the same man that went to fight. Of course, that was before my time. I never knew either man. 

       He did talk of one incident. Of a young boy who had discovered a carelessly overlooked landmine as a training facility had been closed. The young boy had died playing with it. It has been only recently that I have appreciated that when he came to talk of the traumas that he would have experienced, this incident with the boy was first and foremost. I am sure there was so much else. 

        Much of my resentment with my father arose out of who he had become. Slowly, he deteriorated into a bitter, angry, and violent man. This overshadowed the times he did show up in my life to make a contribution. What was remarkable about him, was that despite however he might have been a mess at any given time, he pulled his act together whenever a young child was in the room. Perhaps it was the memories of when life was not so difficult for him. 

        Perhaps it is age. Perhaps it is understanding that I have less sunsets to enjoy. But I grieve not for the loss of my father, but for the loss he would have experienced. As awful as parts of my life may have seemed, it must have been worse for him.

        Today I prayed for him. I am not sure if it does anything. Does it bring comfort to his soul? I don't know. In the first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes of being ‘baptized for the dead.' Perhaps my prayer has been a salve to his soul, maybe to my soul. Another step forward as I trudge the road of recovery, restoration, and righteousness. 

What has changed? 

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

They collapse and fall, but we rise and stand upright.

Psalm 20.7 & 8

Well the election is over. Most of you who will read this will be disappointed in the results. I am. I think there is good reason to be anxious. There are those for whom life will become harder. For this I have no doubt. 

            For me, the biggest concern are those of us who claim a citizenship in the Kingdom of God thinking that a man, or a woman for that matter, elected to any office would be God’s appointment. While Paul tells us to not resist our authorities, this should not be construed that God has chosen that person. What God has appointed is the idea of governance.  The authority at that time was the Roman Empire. Their brutality was remarkable. In the same passage in Romans (13.1-7), he also writes, “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad.” Although God has appointed the authority of governments, our obedience, our allegiance is to God and his Kingdom.

So what has changed?

In reality, nothing. Life may become easier for some, more difficult for others, and more dangerous for others. Yet, nothing stands in my way of what is important. Nothing stops me from acting in love towards my neighbours. Nothing.

            A few days ago, I posted a comment:

“As the world fights to figure everything out. I’ll be holding doors for strangers, letting people cut in front of me in traffic, keeping babies entertained in grocery lines, stopping to talk to someone who is lonely, tipping generously, sharing food, giving children a thumbs-up, being patient with sales clerks, smiling at passersby. WHY? Because I will not stand to live in a world where love is invisible.

            Be kind to a stranger, give grace to people who may be having a bad day, be forgiving with yourself. If you can’t find kindness, BE kindness.”

          

Nothing has changed. In fact, if anything the need for me to be kind and loving has become even more important. But nothing has changed in what I am to do in the world.

            We can, and must, still speak up for those who are considered the least. Going Old Testament, I can, “Do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow's cause.” Isa 1.17 This is beyond politics. 

Anyway, that is my opinion.

The Parable of the Long Spoons 

One day a man said to God, “God, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like.”

God showed the man two doors. Inside the first one, in the middle of the room, was a large round table with many dishes of wonderful food. It smelled delicious and made the man’s mouth water, but the people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles and though each found it possible to reach whatever they wanted, because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. Although the man looked at God questionly, wondering at his cruelty, God simply said, “You have seen Hell now I will show you heaven.”

Behind the second door, the room appeared exactly the same. There was the same large round table with many dishes of wonderful food that made the man’s mouth water. The people had the same long-handled spoons, but they were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The man said, “I don’t understand.”

God smiled. “It is simple,” he said. “Love only requires one skill. These people learned early on to share and feed one another. While those in the other room thought only of how they could feed themselves.”

– attributed to Rabbi Haim of Romshishok