St. Ignace, Michigan
Aug. ‘80
The teaching of the meaning of the death of Jesus was a uniquely
Christian teaching, but that meaning was not what Jesus taught.
Sitting in that congregation, totally absorbed in the words coming
from the pulpit, I felt a sudden change in my disposition. I no longer
felt like a particular. My sense of separateness began to dissolve.
When Peter approached Jesus and heard the words, "The time is coming
when I must leave my body," Jesus was not talking about "stepping out
of life," rather he was talking about "stepping into life," into the
whole birth-death process that sustains life and divinity. "Leaving,"
for Jesus, meant that a door opened—a door into the body of Christ,
into the body of all people caring for each other, into the body of
all divinity that makes love possible. Jesus died so that a more vital
love might be shared—a love for each other, for life, and for the
divine. For that one brief moment I felt at peace, really at peace. I
felt whole. I felt love.
I don't have any more words for what happened to me while I listened
to that sermon, except possibly, that there is a whole lot more to say
if I only had the words. Walking away from church I was overcome with
yet another emotion, one that said, "It's all right, everything's
going to be okay." At the start of this bicycle trip I was curiously
aware that I should not expect any new insights. The simple fact that
I was going on another bicycle trip was success enough. It affirmed my
chosen lifestyle and living that lifestyle was all the reward I
needed. No further contentment was necessary. So why, on this, the
very last day of my trip, did I get this feeling of wholeness while
sitting in a completely unfamiliar Christian church with total
strangers. It's funny how some things work out differently than
planned--and better.
About this trip -- it's been good. It's that simple. The one thing
that did go wrong -- my knee, I accepted with no hard feelings. I took
a totally relaxed attitude about this trip and it paid off. Even in
the rain, and there was plenty, I did not let myself get to down. When
it got bad, as it did in northern British Columbia, I boarded a
train--a good choice. On many occasions I was so high from the scenery
that I felt like I was going to burst with joy. All of life came
together in those special moments, in those very special moments. On a
more negative note, I was definitely the odd man out among the more
adventurous youth. Youth has its place, and so does age; it is too bad
they rarely find a comfortable place to coexist—that separateness is
not irreproachable. Responsibilities go with each, and both are to be
valued for their potentialities. I think its time to leave. I see my
parent's coming to pick me up.
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