The Hermitage
April 22, 2019
As I sat on the veranda this morning, drinking my tea and watching the birds, I read Mary Oliver’s poem “White Heron Rises over Blackwater.”
Inspired, I began to ponder thought with which she opened her poem,
I wonder what I will accomplish today.
I probably won’t venture out of the Hermitage, so mostly it will be the usual mundane things;
...put away the dishes I washed last night
...prepare a new week of meds and supplements
...write my usual letter, chosen at random from my prayer list
...prepare for my upcoming trip
...take a nap?
Quite frankly, the day will be “wasted.”
I drifted through memories that arose.
...days when I used to spend eight, ten, even fourteen hours in “work.”
…days, even as far back as college, when I would awaken after only four or five hours of sleep.
Were those “productive?” Ecclesiastes says not. Hence the title of today’s meditation.
Have I ever done anything that would count as “productive?” How about
...after I retired--time spent with Andrea in our recliners, content with the love filled silence, time marked only by the never ceasing movement of my foot.
...time spent with children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren when nothing remarkable “happened.”
And, in natural progression, I wondered what scripture had to say about it.
I searched for the scripture about the legacy we leave behind. I found it in Sirach, Chapter 44. A Hymn in Honor of our Ancestors, especially verses eight through ten.
In contrast with David’s take on life, Sirach is filled with hope. Rich or famous matters not. And with the New Testament addition of our sure and certain knowledge of Jesus, we have certitude something lies beyond the veil.
I am beginning to realize how many of my meditations are circular. I’m obviously wishing God would give me a concrete picture of my mission in these latter years. I can deal really well with chaos. Not so much with uncertainty.
In the final analysis, I may not know with much confidence what lies ahead for my earthly days, but I know God proclaims it is far from the “meaninglessness” David so eloquently expounds.
And yet, in one sense at least, The Teacher is right.
As I put pen to paper (pardon the euphemism) it is 12:43pm on Holy Monday, April 22nd, 2019. God has not promised me 12:45, or even 12:44.
So how long is it going to take for me to be content with just “being” instead of having to validate my existence by “doing.”
Till then....
Thanks for journeying with me.
Epilogue
I realize my reference to Mary Oliver’s poem is probably disconcerting since it’s out of context for you. But I believe it’s important for you to know how I get to where I am in these ramblings. I would say “I’m sorry,” except I’m really not.
Another vague reference is to the day being wasted. The thought comes from “As Bread That is Broken” by Peter G. van Breeman (Dimensions Books, 1974) read long ago, that asserts “prayer is a waste of time.” Sounds nihilistic, but what is really meant is that prayer cannot be measured in terms of usefulness.