Rector's Blog: Older

I remember how big my elementary school seemed to me when I was growing up. I remember the high ceilings of the hallways, the endless playground, and those big front steps where we’d wait for our parents after school. Those steps seemed enormous, leading up to heavy swinging doors and that building that seemed to tower over us. My mom dropped me off at the front of that school every day for 9 years. Those enormous steps and that big building were mine.

Sometime in my 30’s I drove by the school for the first time in what must have been a decade, and I was so excited to feel that feeling again, or some nostalgic version of it. I almost drove right past the building. It was like they had replaced it with a half-sized replica. I kept looking for it even as I was looking right at it. And then I realized that it was right in front of me, with those tiny steps up to some simple looking doors and the quaint edifice that was definitely lovely, but certainly not imposing.

I’m sure you’ve had this experience at some point: Some thing or place changing so dramatically over time from how you remember it – changing in size, in magnitude, in meaning. It used to tower over you, and now, well, it doesn’t. And you have to adjust.

I turned 44 last week, which is a pretty inconsequential age to be, as ages go. Just good ol’ mid-forties. Middle-aged. I’m not going to take this opportunity to wax poetic on the aging process, as I know that about half of you who read this are 20, 30, 40 years older than me, and you don’t need to hear my version of the thing you’ve been dealing with for a while. It’s strange though, when I am doing Premarital Counseling with a couple and I begin to talk about “our age” and then realize we are, in fact, very different ages.

I was listening to the Beatles the other day, and I realized they were in their 20’s the entire time they were together. They were kids. Remember the Sgt. Pepper era when the Beatles all had terrible facial hair? Well of course they did: they were in their 20s! That’s when you do that! I am 4 years older than John Lennon was when he died. The Beatles, the bride and the groom, the elementary school, they haven’t changed, but you change in your relation to them.

My understanding of Jesus has changed as I’ve aged. I’ve known him since I was a baby, so he used to seem so old to me. But Jesus was between 30 and 33 when he died. I’m older than Jesus.

Look, I know I’m not older than Jesus. We believe Jesus is eternal, that he was before all things, and that through Jesus all things were created, and that he’s still Jesus right now in the present tense. I get that. But he still died before he turned 40, which means he never woke up with his neck out of whack for a week because he slept on it wrong once. He never made that grunting sound when he stood up.

On one hand, Jesus’ life and teachings feel like they will take my whole life to grow into – they’re that deep. And on the other hand, there is an immediacy to the Gospel work - to Jesus’ ministry – that doesn’t always feel like it can be sustainable. Jesus said drop your nets and follow me, and they did, but they only followed him for a couple years, then he was gone. I’m not trying to undermine the significance of Jesus’ work – I believe he literally saved the entirety of creation. At the same time, his ministry was done at fever pitch. Jesus is restless, on the move at a whiplash pace. There’s no consideration for the effect aging has on the way one interacts with their world. The word sustainability doesn’t really show up.

This immediacy continues in the first generation of the church – during which time the entirety of our New Testament was written. With few exceptions, the early church seems pretty sure that Jesus will be showing back up any minute in order to usher in the Judgment Day and the end of the world as we know it.

But of course, Jesus does not show up, at least not in that way. And we keep getting older. Do you grow out of the Bible, or can you grow into it? Is belief in the Gospel a fervent idealism we’re supposed to move past, or can we be convicted and inspired by it our entire lives? Can I follow Jesus for 80 years? And if so, how does it change?

I am at my kids’ school a lot these days. I volunteer sometimes, and because of my weird priest schedule, I often get to be there to pick them up. It’s not the same elementary school I attended. But it’s got front steps and swinging doors. It even has pillars. I wonder if my children think it’s enormous. I wonder what those hallways mean to them. I I bet I know how they’ll feel when they drive by it in their 30’s, in their 40’s.

I do not think Jesus is only for my youth. I do not believe I have outgrown him. And I certainly have not outgrown his church – which has lasted much longer than anyone thought it would. But I imagine it could feel that way if I wanted it to look and feel and mean the same thing to me as it did growing up. I can imagine looking for Jesus even while I’m looking right at Jesus. Because that’s what happens when you don’t expect things to look different even though you’ve changed.

We should not stop wanting to make love the center of our lives. But we should expect our experience of love to change. We should not stop hoping for salvation. But we should expect our understanding of salvation to grow. This journey with God we’re on, if we’re lucky, it’s a long and winding road. And it will transform us if we let it.