More than seven years ago now, when I was in the belly of a whale (though for very different reasons than Jonah), a dear friend gave me this Carl Sandburg quote. I recite it often and have shared with many people in fish bellies and tombs since then. I believe Sandburg's words.
If I should pass by the tomb of Jonah
I would stop there and sit for a while;
Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark
And came out alive after all.
from Carl Sandburg's "Losers"
Last weekend I passed by the tomb of Jonah. This was hardly my first passing-by, but it was the first time in quite a while that I stopped to sit. Almost as soon as I paused I found that tears flowed freely, memories raced wildly, and I felt like I was in the whale belly all over again. Such things should be expected, I suppose, especially since my work takes me by many tombs and asks me to spend some time in the dark.
My work as pastor calls me to spend time with people in dark times and around tombs. My particular ministry is to be with those who grieve. The very nature of this work means that I am a passerby of many tombs and a spelunker of fish bellies by choice in order to check on those who are still waiting to be spit up onto the shore. I want to be sure that they, too, will "[come] out alive after all."
As the result of re-entering that belly only days ago (just to peek around and remember in some very real ways) and giving thanks for having come out alive, I begin this journey of shared reflection.
If I should pass by the tomb of Jonah
I would stop there and sit for a while;
Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark
And came out alive after all.
from Carl Sandburg's "Losers"
Last weekend I passed by the tomb of Jonah. This was hardly my first passing-by, but it was the first time in quite a while that I stopped to sit. Almost as soon as I paused I found that tears flowed freely, memories raced wildly, and I felt like I was in the whale belly all over again. Such things should be expected, I suppose, especially since my work takes me by many tombs and asks me to spend some time in the dark.
My work as pastor calls me to spend time with people in dark times and around tombs. My particular ministry is to be with those who grieve. The very nature of this work means that I am a passerby of many tombs and a spelunker of fish bellies by choice in order to check on those who are still waiting to be spit up onto the shore. I want to be sure that they, too, will "[come] out alive after all."
As the result of re-entering that belly only days ago (just to peek around and remember in some very real ways) and giving thanks for having come out alive, I begin this journey of shared reflection.
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