I read a disturbing story this week from Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr. When he was doing ministry in a prison in New Mexico where he lives, he spoke to one of the social workers who worked in one of the prisons he ministered to. She told him how, in her first year at the prison, when Mothers' Day came around, all the inmates asked her to get cards for them to send to their mothers for the special day. Everyone wanted one, and she struggled to keep up with the demand. Later in the year, when Fathers' Day was due to come around, she decided she had better be prepared. So, she bought a whole box of Fathers' Day cards in preparation for the requests that she was sure would come. But, not one prisoners asked her for a Fathers' Day card. Years later, the full box still sits in her office. She realised at that moment how deep the father-inflicted wounds went in these men. Richard Rohr finished this story by asking whether our prisons would be nearly so full if our society taught men how to be good fathers.

 

Sabbath  

I don't know when we began to believe that being busy was better than resting, that busy people are somehow more important, and that being exhausted was somehow noble. I suspect it goes back to a thing called the "Protestant Work Ethic" which proclaimed, among other things, that "the devil finds work for idle hands". It seems that our world has become obsessed with busy-ness, with working long hours and with not resting enough. We fill our time with all sorts of stuff to do, afraid that we might end up being bored if we don't, and we live with a constant soundtrack of noise, because we can no longer stand the silence. Try asking people to observe a whole minute of silence next time you're in church and see how that goes down!

Perhaps I'm preaching only to myself, but I don't think so. I see the stress on faces as I walk down the street. I read the statistics that show that our relationships are breaking under the strain. I can still remember the days when shops closed at one o'clock on Saturdays and were not open on Sundays at all, so I can't help but see the difference now that shopping is almost 24/7!

 

 

 

Here in South Africa winter is in full swing. We are just approaching the coldest part of our year (which, granted, is not nearly as cold as other parts of the globe), and the world around us is dormant. Trees are bare, and the whole countryside is tinged with brown. The world as I know it has entered a little death.
In ages past winter was a frightening time of year. Resources were scarce, food was hard to come by, and illness frequently led to real death. The 'little death' of winter was a time when life was under threat, and it took every bit of faith to believe that the world would come alive again. But, come alive it did - as it always does. Although I am fortunate enough to live in a time when the fears of winter are small and insignificant, and although I enjoy the winter months in Africa, I still long for the outbreak of new life - the resurrection - that awaits the Spring. The world is in a little death, but the resurrection is not far off.

 

FOOD FOR THE ROAD
Life Lessons from the Lord's Table