“You live long enough you understand prayers can be answered on a different frequency than the one you were listening for. We all have to find a story to live by and live inside, or we couldn’t endure the certainty of suffering. That’s how it seems to me.”
Noe Crowe - in Nial Williams’ This is Happiness (pg. 372)
When I was a pastor in Aberdeen we would regularly have visitors come into the office who lived on the streets or close to the streets. They were searching for financial help for rent or gasoline or a phone plan or a meal or a bus ticket out of town. We tried to help but never knew exactly how to help. We sometimes gave gas vouchers or grocery store gift cards. We would make direct payments to the utility company or to landlords. We would join with other congregations and help with a few nights at a hotel for families needing some rest and shelter. More often then not I found myself saying, “Sorry, we can’t help at this time.”
When I had the time and the emotional energy I would listen to their stories. They were stories filled with pain and bad decisions and of being done wrong. They were stories of suffering and sin and abuse. There was mental illness and all kinds of substance abuse and I could never fully discern fact from fiction although I certainly made my judgements. We wanted to help with immediate needs like food and shelter and safety but we also wanted to help long term. I started to keep a file of people who came in, what their basic needs were, how (or if) we helped and when and how to follow up with them. Some became friends, some were reunited with their children, some even lived in our house as they tried to recover from their addiction. But most did not. Most remained names and faces I would see a few times a year in my office and around town.
The makeshift intake form we created had a question that asked, “What are your current spiritual needs?” One gentleman simply wrote the word: “Hope.”
I remember a particularly wonderful Easter celebration. The pews were full(er). The music, exceptional. God’s Spirit met us in the preaching of the word. Jesus was there just as he promised as we gathered in his name. Kids of all ages hunted for eggs and we ate plenty of cake and cookies after the service. We had Easter dinner with friends. I was filled with hope.
On Easter Monday when the kids were at school and Katie was at work, I went for a walk around town. The buildings were still dilapidated. The sidewalks were cracked and uneven with tufts of weeds and grass infiltrating the cement. Young men in soiled clothes wandered around aimlessly. A woman who had been in my office several times paced back and forth in front of the D&R Theater talking to herself or to someone in her mind or to no one or to everyone, I’m not sure.
The day before I declared, and believed (and still do), that the resurrection of Jesus was the beginning of the restoration of all things. I probably quoted Samwise Gamgee from Lord of the Rings about how “everything sad is going to come untrue.” But, as I walked around town on Monday nothing appeared to be restored and everything still looked truly sad. I wondered, and not for the first time nor the last, why I bothered to tell the same stories year after year if nothing seemed to change?
A few weeks ago, Katie and I went to see Hadestown at the Des Moines Center for the Performing Arts. It was the traveling Broadway cast. The show and the musicians and the set and the singers were amazing. It is the story of the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. In case your are as rusty as I was on your mythology the gist of the story is (spoiler alert, though it was first written 3000+ years ago, so you’ve had time) that Orpheus falls in love with Eurydice, they marry, and she ends up dying (it happens in different ways depending on the author). Eurydice goes to the underworld where Hades is king. Orpheus loves her so much he decides to go to the underworld to rescue her. Hades, inspired by their love, agrees to let Eurydice go but only if they pass a test. Orpheus has to lead her out of the darkness of the underworld but he isn’t allowed to look back and see if she is following him. If he looks back she will be imprisoned in Hades forever. Well, as you can imagine, they get steps away from escape and Orpheus begins to doubt that Eurydice is still following him and right before they reach the top he glances back to see if she is there and loses her forever. The Greeks really knew how to warm your heart, didn’t they?
Hermes, the narrator, tells us in the opening song:
It’s an old song…
It’s a sad song,
It’s a sad tale, it’s a tragedy,
It’s a sad song,
We gonna sing it anyway.
I read the myth before we went to see the show. I knew how the story would end even if Hermes didn’t warn us at the beginning. Part of me wanted to shout, “Don’t look back, you moron, you’re almost there!” right at the climactic moment. But, doubt creeps in and Orpheus looks back. And he loses her, again.
At the end of the show, Hermes comes back out and sings the final song.
A'ight
It’s an old song
It's an old tale from way back when
It's an old song
And that is how it ends
That’s how it goes
Don't ask why, brother, don't ask how
He could have come so close
The song was written long ago
And that is how it goes
It's a sad song
It's a sad tale
It's a tragedy
It's a sad song
But we sing it anyway
'Cause here’s the thing
To know how it ends
And still begin to sing it again
As if it might turn out this time
I learned that from a friend of mine
See, Orpheus was a poor boy
But he had a gift to give
He could make you see how the world could be
In spite of the way that it is
Hermes tells the story again “as if it might turn out this time.” Telling the story is an act of defiance, resiliency. Hermes has the courage to hope. “To know how it ends/And still begin to sing it again/As if it might turn out this time.”
Today is Good Friday. The day Jesus was crucified, dead and buried. The day Jesus himself went to the world of the dead. On Sunday we will gather in our churches and declare that unlike Eurydice, Jesus made it out.
Christ is Risen. He is Risen Indeed.
And we will sing our songs and I will declare in some way or another that the resurrection of Jesus is the beginning of the restoration of all things.
Come Monday though, my guess is downtown Aberdeen will look much the same as it did a few years ago. As will most other places. The Russian army will continue to wage war on the Ukrainians. Americans will still too often be judged by the color of their skin. Afghan refugees will still need safe places to go. Young girls all over the world will still be kidnapped and trafficked. Republicans and Democrats will still hate each other and cable news will still propagate vile caricatures and half truths set on deepening the divide.
I am going to tell the story on Sunday again, anyway.
I will tell it as if it might turn out this time. I am sure it always does, often in ways we cannot measure. In other ways, it hasn’t turned out yet. There is still plenty that needs to be restored and plenty that remains truly sad. There is little that you and I can do to make a dent in any of the major struggles of our times, or at least a noticeable dent. But, I am sure there are plenty of people in your life who could use a little hope. And they don’t have to be on the streets or near the streets. They probably live in your house, or your neighborhood, or sit in your classroom, or come to your practice or work in your office or go to your church.
Come Easter Monday, let’s have the courage to hope and to act on that hope.
The last stanza of Hadestown ends with this.
It's an old tale from way back when
And we're gonna sing it again and again
We're gonna sing it again
And we will. We will sing again on Sunday with the confidence that our song turns out different. Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Comments