Though hell should bar the way
I once memorized Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman for a talent show. My favorite line was:
"Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight,
though hell should bar the way."
Something feels so claimed, fierce and devoted about someone saying that they will come for you though hell should bar the way. The whole "claiming" concept and being "chosen" twangs so deeply on the strings of my inner being that it was a multi-month topic when I saw my therapist several years ago.
Both growing up and in my adult life, the people important to me chose service to the church over what might have been best for me. A good part of me understands that this perception is skewed and not necessarily the truth, but the other parts of me feel abandoned and betrayed over and over again when I remember...
...the Bible study schedule that racked up the Michigan miles on the baby blue 1979 Chevrolet wagon. The knock on the door at dinner time. The holidays interrupted by another's breaking heart. The ministers who made parental decisions. The new year welcomed on our knees in prayer rather than watching the ball drop in Times Square.
The vacations that never happen. The cell phone that doesn't stop ringing. The weekends that end before they begin.
Life in a parsonage is like the Fishbowl California where you may checkout any time you like, but you can never leave.
We are, indeed, prisoners of our own device repeating the patterns modeled for us. I have put service to others over the needs of my own children. As the director of an organization that provides access to nutrition with a variety of different programs, it is ironic that it is easier for me to think about dinner for 70 than it is for me to consider a simple meal for the four of us. We eat in parts and pieces just like we live our lives.
Doing good is not always right.
It makes me sad to realize that I have created another child who will listen for the voice of the highwayman calling: I will come for you by midnight though hell should bar the way...
6 comments:
I love that poem. Just a month ago, I got some tapes out of the library with lots of great poems on them (BBC-produced), and "The Highwayman" was one of them.
The tape started off with "If," which always makes me think of Charlie Weiss, who had a 9:00 hour based on that poem.
Since Dad wasn't a minister, just a church worker, I didn't face anywhere near as much "fishbowl" experience. And by the time I got there, C. Hill was less of a "center" anyway. Actually, I consider my childhood pretty idyllic by modern standards, for which I'm daily grateful to God and my parents.
Since I'm now ordained clergy, though, this is already looming up with my family. Longer Sundays, occasional hospital visits, church conferences, seminary classes (both taking and teaching). I'm trying very hard to balance work, church, and family, but it's not always easy. It is, however, part of my job description as a deacon, according to one book on the diaconate I read last year.
I wonder, though, if we learn to be less selfish with parents in church or service work. That's one of the reasons I'm actually glad our house is small and some of the kids have to share a room - it may help to teach them charity and selflessness.
--DJ
Charrrrrrrrrrlie Weiss. I wonder how he is and if he is a highwayman.
It occurs to me that my posts have a whining tone. I shall endeavor to be more upbeat.
I didn't know you were clergy. What, when, where, and HOW????
And most importantly--WHY?
I tried to memorize that one too but don't think I made the whole thing...
"Fish Bowl California"--I like that.
I am going to blame my inability to answer my own phone on the phenomenon you mentioned....I could just be lazy but I could also be craving some control in a way? Probably both.
Diva,
Last July, at the Church of the Holy Spirit (Charismatic Episcopal Church), which we've been attending for about 3 years now. Details on our blog: http://thebookbeast.blogspot.com/2006_07_01_archive.html
As a deacon, according to my vows, "In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.
As a deacon in the Church, you are to study the Holy Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model your life upon them. You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world. You are to assist the bishop and priests in public worship and in the ministration of God's Word and Sacraments. At all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ's people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself."
I've been pondering all weekend your question, "Why?" I think there are two reasons.
I have two driving motivations in my spiritual life. First, I want to be a servant, both to God and to people. Everyone gets excited about different things; for me, it's being able to assist someone else in an important task that thrills me. Glowing sermons on being Christ's Bride tend to leave me empty, but the thought of hearing Jesus say, "Well done, good and faithful servant" when I die is one of the few things that can make me cry. Being a deacon is by definition being a servant; the stole I wear every Sunday represents the towel that Jesus wore to wash His disciples' feet.
My second motivation is to see the Church reunited. As one of my heroes, Pope John Paul II, said, the first millennium was the era of the united church. The second millennium was the divided church. Let us pray God that the third millennium may see the reunification. This is my passion: to see all those who name themselves with the name of Christ worshiping as one. I pray that it happens in my lifetime, although that's probably not realistic. The church I am in has the same passion, so that's the reason I wanted to be ordained in this specific church.
And besides, with historical deacons like St. Lawrence (who, as he was being burned alive, said, "Turn me over; I am quite done on this side.") and St. Francis of Assissi, being a deacon is just way cool!
Dear Beastie:
Those are good reasons.
Oddly enough, on the only day that really matters...Judgment Day...it is what we do to feed the hungry and clothe the naked that separate the sheep from the goats.
Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, eh?
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