Wholeness with Creator

“It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee are one step away from being the farthest away from the Shire than they’ve ever been.  Frodo reflects on the wisdom from his beloved uncle as they take that step, a step that moves them through bogs and forests and captivity and war and isolation and a thousand tiny deaths.

As I consider this reflection from Luke, I cannot help but think of those seemingly innocent, curious steps that quickly prove arduous and grueling.  Beginning at the end of our reading passage today, we see Jesus teaching every day in the temple, and every night he moves away from the temple to sleep in the grove of olive trees…a pivotal place, we all know, in which many powerful events occurred with the life and ministry of Jesus.

I envision Jesus arriving at the temple just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon in the cool morning.  Crowds of people already present clamor and jockey for position to see and hear the rabbi — much like we might claim our space on the ground level of a long-awaited concert.  Jesus moves through his day instructing and questioning and offering historical perspective and supporting and laughing and correcting…ultimately leading the crowds on the journey of inner alignment, of community, of wholeness with Creator.

As the sun makes its final dip into the opposing horizon, hungry, thirsty, sweaty, hoarse, exhausted, Jesus leaves the temple and moves back on the hill and into the grove of trees to fall heavy and spent on the ground to seek respite from the endless day.

Within this gospel passage, Luke writes for the hearers that they be on guard and be alert.  In other words, guard your hearts and your minds and your emotions and your interactions.  As Bilbo guided Frodo of the awaiting dangers once the threshold of home and safety is crossed, Jesus, too, guides us to be vigilant as we navigate our paths through our lives.  Work and family and projects and holidays and birthdays and hobbies and neighbors and meetings will pull us thin, sort of stretched, like butter spread over too much bread as Bilbo once shared with Gandalf.  There will be many forests and wars and tiny deaths that will seek to conquer us.  We cannot hold ourselves to a relentless pace of endless giving.  If and when we do, our hearts and minds and bodies can become exposed and vulnerable.  We can fall into the trap, like Luke states.

Before we realize what is happening, we might just step into a bog that takes a very long time to crawl out of. 

While we see Jesus going day after day into the temple and teaching and giving to the people, he takes rest.  We cannot be Jesus.  We must be mindful of where the limits of our personal Shire are.  We must pause for prayer, for breath, for solitude, for fellowship, for those holy spaces that offer renewal and refreshment.

The Rev. Janie Koch, Rector, McAlester, OK