Ah, faithful reader… if there are any! It has been a while since last I wrote.

The past two weeks have been a time of contemplation, of soul-searching; of discouragement and defeat and of exhaustion. Not a time that I normally am able to create or write. My mind, during these times, pulls in on itself choosing to go into hibernation in order to rejuvenate.

My friend, my pastor, has resigned her position. My church has lost a valuable asset. This happened a week ago, and I haven’t been able to write about it… haven’t known what to write about it.

And truth told, I’m still not sure what to say. I’m not sure what my future at my church is, if there is one, or what.

It has brought so much to light, the anger I feel towards others, the disappointment I feel that after so much work done over the past several years, we still don’t know how as a congregation to behave towards each other. I’m not sure if I have the energy to try again.

And yet, I got an email today from someone, from a person that has taken to posting a daily thought (or thoughts) to a list I’m on. This individual’s thoughts are usually of the “ho, hum” variety. But today, the thought seemed to speak right TO me.

It was about forgiveness. Forgiveness is something I’m no stranger too. By and large, I forgive almost as fast as I get angry. I almost NEVER carry anger past bedtime. And even when I do, it generally only takes a few days.

But, there are some noteable differences. Right now, I wonder if I’ll EVER forgive those I perceive as being behind our current difficulties at church. And while I usually have no problem appending to the previous sentence a statement like “Well, I KNOW I will.” Right now, I can’t do that.

I’ve forgiven most people in my life. I’ve forgiven all my childhood hurts. I only remember ONE person from that period who wronged me, and I can’t feel anything other than pity and sadness for him.

I’ve forgiven just about everyone from my teens. In deed, I’ve forgiven all individuals that harmed me then, but still need to work on forgiveness toward them as a group… it’s coming. Sometimes forgiving means leaving. Choosing to put something behind me by not putting myself in a position to remember. Because remembering can sometimes be a strong fuel.

Heck. I have even forgiven the man who raped me when I was 17. What he did was wrong, but in a funny sort of way, he did me a small favor.

But I’ve never forgiven the archbishop of Omaha. I know I should, but I hold that anger like a warm blanket around me. I’ve allowed it to morph into a hatred that transcends mere anger. I’ve allowed the anger towards “that monk” at Conception to moulder about my feet.

I’ve even forgiven the people at St. Meinrad, fellow students, who harbored such hate. I look at them, their memories in my mind, and know they never knew they hated me… which I guess is part of my anger towards them… but I’ve forgiven that. That was MY problem, not theirs… no, not really.

But now I look at these folks at my church. I resent them so. In fact, it may well be that I hate some of them.

“Forgive us our sins, as WE forgive those who have harmed us.”

Yeah, I know. It’s time to remember that the end can come… most likely WILL come like a thief; I’ll not know the hour of it’s coming. To be harboring the hatreds and angers then will be a costly burden to bear. Will God look in to my heart and say “Well, you’ve done so much right, and so much wrong… and frankly, I can forgive you all your wrong, Eric. But YOU said to forgive you to the degree you forgive others… and you haven’t forgiven others.”

I fear that. I don’t fear answering to God for who I am, who I love. I fear answering to God for whom I DON’T love. And that’s sad. Because MY God is not one to be feared. MY God is one to look at, gaze upon in wonder and awe. Because MY God is a baby in a manger who lived to show ME how to live.

So, once again, I vow. I swear I WILL find it in me to forgive that bishop, that monk. That group of students who, as individuals were human, but as a herd (yes, a herd) were less than human to me. I forgive them too.

And tomorrow, I guess, I’ll forgive that bishop, that monk and that herd again. And the day after. And the day after. And then, maybe someday someone or something will remind me to forgive them all over again… because it took a lot of work to come to hate them this much; it stands to reason, it’ll take a lot of work to put that hate aside. Who knows… perhaps in forgiving, I’ll come to forgive the Roman Catholic Church, as well.

And those folks at church. I’ll work at not letting my anger grow to something that is crippling. And I’ll work to forgive them, too.

I wonder if they’ll put as much effort into forgiving me?

This morning’s drive to work was marked by the dreary overcast so common to this time of year. Gray clouds lowered over the interstate; trees hunkered down, wrapped in the not-quite-fog, their empty arms upraised in praise, or perhaps surrender. My tires hummed on the damp pavement as I struggled to find the right fit, not too fast, not too slow.

My mind drifted back to the study at church last night, the study of the book of Hebrews. We summarized the past several weeks study as we wrapped up this interesting book, and we remarked on the appropriateness of some verses to our current situation at church. “We have much to say about this, but it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn. In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” We are, it was agreed, a vicious throng, devouring those who should be leading us, binding them in chains, leading them away into a captivity of spirit that lesser folks would shrink from.

Alas, our study didn’t lead to any solutions, just a gnawing sense that something has to change. We’ll overcome, we’ll move ahead, grow new membership, then repeat the whole process.

One of the church signs I watch for new kernels of enlightenment proclaimed the following:

Jesus – First

Others – Second

Yourself – Last

I thought about that. There’s reality in it, as there almost always is in the pithy little pericopes of thought these signs share. It also seemed to me how easy it is for us to get wrapped up in the first and third, but forget the second. Yet, when we put other’s first, above all else, we just naturally find ourselves putting Jesus first, after all.

This past Sunday it was again my job to organize the breakfast for our homeless constituents. I did something I hadn’t done the previous numerous times I’ve cooked… I turned over the serving to others.

And I left church feeling so unfed.

It dawned on me, it’s in the serving of others that I’ve been meeting Jesus each week. “Good morning, sir!” “Good morning, Ma’am!” “Have a nice day!” These little comments, so innocent, seemingly meaningless, are most profound when sincerely applied to those our society chooses NOT to respect, or care about. Whatsoever you do…

Another topic last night was equality. We considered that we as a people pay such lip service to this concept. We profess equality of all people, yet don’t try to be too equal, you’ve overstepped your place!

These folk who come in, they deserve respect, they deserve to be treated as my equal. Not because they have succeeded at something, the normal standard of equality, the normative measure for deserving respect. They deserve respect and recognition of their equality, not for what they have done or contributed, or are likely to contribute, but rather they are deserving of respect for the simple fact that they exist. They are humans, created in God’s image, and made little lower than the angels themselves.

Melchizedek. From “Malek” and “Tsedeq“. King and Righteousness. Old Melchy is mentioned more in Hebrews than in any of the rest of scripture. Considered by some to be a precursor of the Christ, who, like the Christ, came out bearing bread and wine and blessing. How many other times, we asked ourselves last night, has the Christ been made manifest, in hidden forms, to this earth?

Might, we asked, the various suppositions of angelic involvement in human affairs really be the Christ? No resolution to that, either, how could there be? Yet, it seemed to me, the answer is yes. And no. No, because the stories we were specifically considering are of people who more or less miraculously appear, fix a problem or assist in a burden, then disappear from our lives. That seems to me to be a succinctly angelic function.

But I do believe the Christ has appeared to us in other forms than old Melchy or Jesus. I think he’s the hitchhiker under the bridge whom I passed by. I think he’s that homeless man in the serving line who doesn’t say anything but smiles the most beautiful smile.

It’s THAT Christ that I hope I’m reaching when I ladle up the next serving of sausage or eggs or potatos.

And speaking of potatos… our guests didn’t much like our potatos on Sunday. They were very much undercooked. And the orange juice was, well, a bit watery.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers… at least they left with a full stomach.”

If I threw a dinner party, and the potatos were undercooked, and the beverage watered down… I’d be utterly embarassed… so would those who dismissed it Sunday.

How do I tell those who dismiss undercooked potatos and watery OJ, how do I express what is in my heart? “Beggars can’t be choosers…” The whole thought is condescending. Coming into this act of servitude with that mindset, that condescending attitude is absolutely the wrong way to go about it. For one thing, I believe it’s a prescription for burnout.

I’m not serving beggars. I’m serving Jesus. I don’t want to give him/her undercooked potatos and watery OJ. My Sunday breakfast isn’t only about getting food to the hungry. These breakfasts are, for me, about the homeless. They’re about loving service.

No, I don’t want to serve undercooked potatos or watery juice to Jesus. And I don’t want to give him divided attention and a distant heart.

Questions. We all have them. And most of us have numerous questions for which we have no answers… I know I’m always searching for a myriad of answers to numerous questions, complex and simple alike.

But, sometimes, I wonder if I really know what the questions are. Let me rephrase that. Sometimes I don’t know what the Questions are. Did you catch that subtlety? Questions… capital Q. The BIG QUESTIONS of life. As Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” I think I agree. I try to engage in examination at every opportunity.

It’s simple, what I’m seeking in this blog, really. I want to know the Questions that are worth examining. I’ve come up with a few.

WON’T YOU HELP ME come up with more????

Here’s what I have so far:

* Who am I?

* Why am I here?

* Am I (humanity) all there is?

* Is there a Higher Power, and if so, what is the nature of that Higher Power?

* If there is a Higher Power, what is my relation to it?

So… for you small number of folk who read me from time to time, please, set me on a new quest…. what’re the questions?