UNDERSTANDING THE “AH” OF THINGS

“Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it!” (Genesis 28:16)

            “Have you noticed how clean and glistening the cobble stones in the street are after the rain? And flowers? No word can describe them. One can only exclaim Ah In admiration. You must learn to understand the Ah of things.” These are the words of a Zen master, cited in a book by Alan Torey, who wrote a highly original book entitled, Wonder. Entering into the season of the year when it is appropriate to wonder as we wander, we need to give ourselves the gift to understand the ah of things.

            We live in an age more accurately characterized by blah than ah. Our television sets have progressed from black and white to color, but our daily lives have regressed from color to black and white. We deal more and more with faceless corporations, non-human beings at the other end of the telephone line, spend unnumbered hours filling out devilishly inquisitive forms. While computers have transformed our way of working, we now spend most of the day in front of a screen. We are communicating better, but not primarily face to face but by email.

            I have a friend who wants to re-invent the sport of skeet-shooting. The principle is the same, but instead of clay pigeons he suggests we use cell-phones!

            I have lost more religion in airports than any other place on earth. Now we humans are herded like cattle through metal detectors, a not altogether pleasing experience. In going hi-tech we have almost shoved to the side the personal dimension in our lives.

            Martin Buber, the Jewish theologian and philosopher, wrote a book years ago that has become a classic, I And Thou. The thesis of his work is that there are only two categories defining how we relate to each other. We treat the other person as a Thou, in which case we treat them with respect, admiration, and sensitivity, or, we treat the other person as an it, in which case we treat them only as a person to be used. It seems to me we have regressed from treating people as “thous,” to treating people just as “its.”

            I have often wondered about the connection between the impersonal nature of the way we relate to each other, and the loss of a sense of the holy in our religion. Sincerely motivated to render God as our contemporary, we have managed by all manner of gimcrackery to trivialize the holy, reduce music that connects God with the depth of our souls to surface praise songs. I heard it said in seriousness the other day that the rise of the charismatic movement in the Roman Catholic Church can be traced, at least in part, to the abandonment of the Latin mass, which, as I get it, Pope Benedict would like to reinstitute.  We live in an age more conducive to blah than ah.

            Tear that picture from your yellow pad and on a fresh new sheet construct another scene. A young man is traveling alone on a long journey. He has left home under less than happy circumstances. Largely on his mother’s advice he deceived his brother and gained the family birthright falsely. He heads for Haran, there to stay with an uncle until his brother cools.

            Night falls and Jacob commandeers a stone for a pillow and prepares to sleep. As he sinks into unconsciousness he discovers himself present at an unutterable sight.  He envisions a staircase linking earth to heaven and on it angels descending and ascending. Above it all stood the Lord.

            Then a voice said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your descendants… and by you shall all the families of the earth be blest.” The story of Jacob’s life is interpreted for him. Those little episodes of dirty tricks are gathered now into the larger purposes of God.  The what and how of things are enlightened by the why and who.

            His destiny is announced: “I will give you and your followers this land.” A presence is promised him: “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go.” Not bad for a night’s sleep!

            Then Jacob awoke from his sleep, and said, “Ah, Ah… Surely the Lord is in this place and I knew it not. He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place. This is none other than the house of God. And this is the gate of heaven.” And he called the name of the place Beth-el, which means house of God.

            Now I know what you are thinking. That’s a biblical story with biblical characters which happened way back then, but it could never happen to me.  But consider: it is God’s nature to come, to speak, to illumine. Sometimes in a flaming bush, sometimes in a still small voice, sometimes in an earthquake, wind, or fire.  Sometimes in a manger, sometimes on a cross, once in an empty tomb. Here in a university town, there on an open road. This time in a traffic jam, next at a luncheon at the Duke Inn.

            Wayne Oates, in his book, The Psychology of Religion, cites Marghanita Laski who has made a study of ecstasy. She suggests that ecstasy can be triggered by such things as natural scenery, such as fine weather, being near the sea, or on a mountain top;  sexual love involving the total person; childbirth, especially the sight of the first child; exercise and movement, such as swimming or flying; religion, such as being in vespers in a foreign cathedral; art, especially religious art; scientific knowledge, such as solving a difficult mathematical problem; poetic knowledge; creative works, such as suddenly being able to express something in permanent form; recollection and introspection, such as calling up vivid images from the past; beauty and the encounter of the beautiful.

            We are not required to create the Ah occasions. They are already there. We simply have to learn to WONDER AS WE WANDER and to recognize them when they happen. What you see is what you get. And what you want is what you see!

            Today is the first Sunday in Advent. Twenty-one days from now we will celebrate the birth of Jesus. You can fill those intervening days with the busyness that is manufactured by custom. Or you can let the glory of the story possess you, illumine for you your past, your present, and your future.

            In a matter of  minutes we will celebrate the Sacrament of Holy Communion. I’m so glad we do this by intinction. As you come down the aisle to the chancel, give someone a hug, greet a stranger, take the bread and the cup and let it be an Ah occasion. Open yourself up to the wonder of what is present here, of him who is present here through the sacramental elements.

            Sam Keen wrote a short work entitled Apology for Wonder. In it he has these two sentences. “To wonder is to die to the self, to cease to impose categories, and to surrender the self to the object. Such a risk is taken only because there is the promise of the resurrection of meaning.”  The resurrection of meaning.

            I’ll never forget a moment while serving Preston Hollow Presbyterian Church in Dallas. I brought, with an elder, communion to an 86 year old women in her home. She was dying, and she and we all knew it. I gave her the bread and the wine, which took a little effort on her part pushing herself up from the pillow in her bed. After I offered a little closing prayer, she looked at me through mostly blinded eyes and said, “Jack, did I just receive the body and blood of Jesus Christ.” I said to her, “You did.” She leaned back on her pillow smiled, and said, “OK, now I can die in peace.” “The surrender of the self to the object.”

            “Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.’”

            You must learn to understand the ah of things. Surely the Lord is in this place.