That's Not How Any of This Works
I've been living to see you.
Dying to see you, but it shouldn't be like this.
This was unexpected,
What do I do now?
Could we start again please?
I've been very hopeful, so far.
Now for the first time, I think we're going wrong.
Hurry up and tell me,
This is just a dream.
Oh could we start again please?
"Could We Start Again, Please?" Jesus Christ Superstar.
There's no way of knowing, of course, but if I had been born 200 years ago I probably would have been a Catholic priest. My family would not have had much money or resources living in occupied Ireland, but for bright young men Maynooth, the famous, massive Irish seminary was a way to get an education and get ahead. Life in occupied Ireland was hard, but life as an Irish priest was relatively good. You were the pillar of the community, respected. The worst of the persecutions and oppression of the Catholic Church were over by the early 1800s--no more saying Mass in secret on top of big stones. I'd like to think I would be one of the kind priests, not too severe, not too much influenced by the moralistic Jansenism that was pervasive in the Irish church. And, given life expectancy at the time, if I had been born in 1778 as opposed to 1978, I probably would be dead before the horrors of the Great Hunger of the 1840s, spared having to bury the majority of my flock from starvation or watch them sail away to North America or Australia.
More than anything else, it would have been a life grounded in easy certainties. God was great, the Roman Catholic Church was right, the English were evil, and I was chosen for a divine purpose. There would be hardships and tragedies, to be sure, but they would be predictable hardships and tragedies, the kind of things that are an unavoidable portion of life. Until the calamity of the Hunger, if I were alive for that, things would be predictable enough for me to be pretty confident that I knew what to say to the people sitting out there in the pews.
But, you know what, I wasn't born in 1778, or 1578, or 578, or 78. I was born in 1978, in St. Vincent's Hospital, New York, New York, United States of America, as the first child of Michael and Virginia Boyle. This is the place and the time and the circumstances in which God put me. We don't get to decide when and where we are born. We don't get to dictate to God the circumstances that we would prefer to come into existence and live our lives. In every time, in every place, God calls people to God's Self, to do the best we know how in the place where we find ourselves. For those of us reading this, we have been called into this time, into this place. What we are being asked, I believe, is to do what we believe to be God's will in our own specific context.
Many, many Christian folks are desperate to get out of the specific context we find ourselves and find some way to live in a different world. Some want to recreate some fantasy version of the 1950s, where "everyone" was a Christian and did what they were supposed to do and never challenged the status quo. Some point to another, equally constructed, Golden Era. Some just want to be the BMOC, where they are given the kind of deference and social prominence that my hypothetical early 19th Century Irish priest received. Some are just like Mary Magdelene in the song from Jesus Christ Superstar--they just want to click their heels and be back in Kansas, secure in the knowledge that this was all a terrible dream. All of which, admittedly, is easier than facing what is in front of us.
But that's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.
The Apostles probably had moments where they wished that they could have stayed back in Capernaum, going out every morning to fish. Abram probably was pretty comfortable in Ur. Those that were present for the Babylonian exile likely wished they could have been around in the time of David. But they had something to go out and do, and they went out and did it.
If you are a follower of the poor man from Nazareth, and you are reading this, you were born into a burning time. The brush was overgrown, we have had a terrible drought, and some idiot is throwing lit matches everywhere. The brush is fully ablaze, and it is spreading to the trees. It is destruction, and it is horrible in the moment. Some trees will be burned up completely. It would have been better, in a sense, to have been around in the forest when it was not so overgrown. But that's not where we are--things are on fire. It is what it is. This is the time and the place that we have been sent to do our work. Some of that work will be trying to prevent the fire from spreading to people's houses. Some of that work will be planning for what will come after the forest is blackened and charred beyond recognition. But we are the people that God has sent right into the forest fire. That is our version of leaving Ur, of leaving our nets, of going into exile.
When the forest fire comes, the arborists will not be judged by how well they stick to the protocol from before the forest started to burn. They will be judged by how they do in the context of the fire. But when the flames are licking at your face, many people will think that the safest thing to do is to break out that old protocol, so that you can cover your ass and always be able to say that you did what you were told to do. No one is going to be fooled by this. Least of all God.
Like it or not, if you want to do this Christian thing, you are going to have to be a smoke jumper. Best learn how to use a parachute.
Dying to see you, but it shouldn't be like this.
This was unexpected,
What do I do now?
Could we start again please?
I've been very hopeful, so far.
Now for the first time, I think we're going wrong.
Hurry up and tell me,
This is just a dream.
Oh could we start again please?
"Could We Start Again, Please?" Jesus Christ Superstar.
I’ve had folks tell me they get tired of me talking like I do now. That’s more than fair, cause I’m tired of talking about the things I talk about too, & even more tired of thinking about the things I think about. Frankly, I want to crawl back under the covers & go back to sleep.— Jonathan Martin (@theboyonthebike) June 18, 2018
Look man, I try to be nice. But some of y’all make me bang my head against the wall, acting like it’s business as usual, like we aren’t riding shotgun on the titanic. What do you have to lose with your “platform”? Afraid you’ll not get to be a footnote on Wikipedia?— Jonathan Martin (@theboyonthebike) June 18, 2018
There's no way of knowing, of course, but if I had been born 200 years ago I probably would have been a Catholic priest. My family would not have had much money or resources living in occupied Ireland, but for bright young men Maynooth, the famous, massive Irish seminary was a way to get an education and get ahead. Life in occupied Ireland was hard, but life as an Irish priest was relatively good. You were the pillar of the community, respected. The worst of the persecutions and oppression of the Catholic Church were over by the early 1800s--no more saying Mass in secret on top of big stones. I'd like to think I would be one of the kind priests, not too severe, not too much influenced by the moralistic Jansenism that was pervasive in the Irish church. And, given life expectancy at the time, if I had been born in 1778 as opposed to 1978, I probably would be dead before the horrors of the Great Hunger of the 1840s, spared having to bury the majority of my flock from starvation or watch them sail away to North America or Australia.
More than anything else, it would have been a life grounded in easy certainties. God was great, the Roman Catholic Church was right, the English were evil, and I was chosen for a divine purpose. There would be hardships and tragedies, to be sure, but they would be predictable hardships and tragedies, the kind of things that are an unavoidable portion of life. Until the calamity of the Hunger, if I were alive for that, things would be predictable enough for me to be pretty confident that I knew what to say to the people sitting out there in the pews.
But, you know what, I wasn't born in 1778, or 1578, or 578, or 78. I was born in 1978, in St. Vincent's Hospital, New York, New York, United States of America, as the first child of Michael and Virginia Boyle. This is the place and the time and the circumstances in which God put me. We don't get to decide when and where we are born. We don't get to dictate to God the circumstances that we would prefer to come into existence and live our lives. In every time, in every place, God calls people to God's Self, to do the best we know how in the place where we find ourselves. For those of us reading this, we have been called into this time, into this place. What we are being asked, I believe, is to do what we believe to be God's will in our own specific context.
Many, many Christian folks are desperate to get out of the specific context we find ourselves and find some way to live in a different world. Some want to recreate some fantasy version of the 1950s, where "everyone" was a Christian and did what they were supposed to do and never challenged the status quo. Some point to another, equally constructed, Golden Era. Some just want to be the BMOC, where they are given the kind of deference and social prominence that my hypothetical early 19th Century Irish priest received. Some are just like Mary Magdelene in the song from Jesus Christ Superstar--they just want to click their heels and be back in Kansas, secure in the knowledge that this was all a terrible dream. All of which, admittedly, is easier than facing what is in front of us.
But that's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.
The Apostles probably had moments where they wished that they could have stayed back in Capernaum, going out every morning to fish. Abram probably was pretty comfortable in Ur. Those that were present for the Babylonian exile likely wished they could have been around in the time of David. But they had something to go out and do, and they went out and did it.
If you are a follower of the poor man from Nazareth, and you are reading this, you were born into a burning time. The brush was overgrown, we have had a terrible drought, and some idiot is throwing lit matches everywhere. The brush is fully ablaze, and it is spreading to the trees. It is destruction, and it is horrible in the moment. Some trees will be burned up completely. It would have been better, in a sense, to have been around in the forest when it was not so overgrown. But that's not where we are--things are on fire. It is what it is. This is the time and the place that we have been sent to do our work. Some of that work will be trying to prevent the fire from spreading to people's houses. Some of that work will be planning for what will come after the forest is blackened and charred beyond recognition. But we are the people that God has sent right into the forest fire. That is our version of leaving Ur, of leaving our nets, of going into exile.
When the forest fire comes, the arborists will not be judged by how well they stick to the protocol from before the forest started to burn. They will be judged by how they do in the context of the fire. But when the flames are licking at your face, many people will think that the safest thing to do is to break out that old protocol, so that you can cover your ass and always be able to say that you did what you were told to do. No one is going to be fooled by this. Least of all God.
Like it or not, if you want to do this Christian thing, you are going to have to be a smoke jumper. Best learn how to use a parachute.
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