Reading
jaylake 's blog has been a melancholy experience for me recently. In terms of productivity, one normal Jay equals one and a half mere mortals: a full-time job, a formidable web and personal-appearance presence, a flight-intensive relationship with
calendula_witch , time devoted to his child
the_child ... and, oh yes, a writing career that involves producing 2500 words each day and a couple of novels a year.
Okay, two mere mortals.
Lately Jay has been chronicling his experience with cancer and with chemo. He's been rather explicit about it. In view lately has been his pain at diminished energy, increased sleep, and fewer words coming from the processor. It's temporary. We all expect that he'll recover completely. Still, for now, he resents it, I think.
The rest of this post jumps from that point into Christianity, a realm Jay visits occasionally but does not inhabit. On the other hand, it's where almost all my resources and images originate; for me, it's what Jay calls "mythical truth." (A myth is defined as a story that has power.)
The central Christian story involves a man, Jesus, who is so filled with God's presence as to wield God's power: over nature, over illness, and even over death. Productive? I should say so.
And yet the most powerful image of the faith is of a man nailed to a cross, totally helpless. Not free to move his arms, not free to stand straight, not free to catch a breath; experiencing indescribable pain in the shoulders, the back, the sides, the hips, the knees, the feet. He's hungry and thirsty. He's not in control of his bowels or his bladder. This man cannot provide for his mother but must pass her care into the hands of a friend; this man is mocked by the leaders of his own tribe and faith, and is condemned by his government, which puts a label above the dying man: "head Jew." "That's your god up there on that cross!"
To which Christians, then and now, say: "yes."
Because for us, being godly, living the abundant life, is not finally about making the bestseller list (though Jesus did), nor about people liking you (thousands liked Jesus, for a while), nor about wielding power--over others, nor even over our own lives. For us, it's about loving God as best we can, loving our neighbor in word and especially deed, and trusting that finally God will honor that way of life.
Because of course - so the myth goes - God honored Jesus. Jesus rose from the dead with the God's seal of approval: Yes, Jesus can be trusted; yes, Jesus' way leads to both truth and life; yes, finally there's victory over death; yes, Jesus somehow opens us to the final victory of love over hate, peace over violence, good over evil. Somehow the helpless man on the cross becomes the gateway to lasting life.
This has practical implications for the Christian. It means that when St. Paul is "helpless" in prison, he can still solidify an entire religion. It means that when Jesus' eleven closest disciples die "helplessly" for their faith, their deaths are an expansion, not a constriction. It means that, though Adolf Hitler might shut the "helpless" Bonhoeffer away, Bonhoeffer wins. It means when Paul Brand walks among the despised and unclean lepers, he's doing the most important work in the world.
It means when the bodies of our elderly break down, the plot of their lives gets more interesting. At the breaking point, they say, I lose the God of my old ways, I cannot work my way into heaven, but I find God in new ways, and accept the gifts of life gratefully.
It means that when, after the years and years that stretch ahead of us, we fight our damndest against death, and die anyway, yet we live.
Well, I meant just to hold up a helpful image or two, to tell a story that has some power. I ended up preaching.
At my best I'm not as productive as Jay at his worst. But it's about impact, not production, and this I'd say: perhaps Jay's productive life has led to great impact now. This trip through the valley has opened the eyes of many of us who are well, bolstered many who are not, and deepened, it seems, Jay's own self.
And by the way - to allude to another great philosopher - he's not dead yet.
