Reflection - Trees and Canyons

http://usccb.org/bible/readings/090919.cfm
Colossians 1:24-2:3
Luke 6:6-11

Living life sequentially makes it difficult to see the forest. The fact is, as we all know, trees get in the way.

At times imaginative writers have created imaginary scenarios depicting what the present would be like if some particular thing had not happened. Such fictional constructs envision a world where the south won the Civil War or a present predicated on the fantasy that President Kennedy was not assassinated in Dallas. These fictional accounts of a non-existent history remind us of both the interrelationship of human events and the sequential nature of our existence. It is simple: our lives are a continuous flow from this to that. The ‘this’ is superficially known and the ‘that’ could well be unexpected. In any event, the present is what we know, and we probably don’t know that very well.

A few years ago I hiked with a group to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Like most vacationers, we began our journey at the primary visitors center, which sits on the southern edge of the canyon rim. My initial scrutiny quickly determined that the crevice was substantially larger than any I had seen before. Looking right the canyon disappeared from view by virtue of its own meandering course. Looking left the canyon disappeared from view by virtue of its own meandering course. My eyes soon settled on a rock formation here, a side canyon there, a variety of layers whose hues abruptly changed from grays to browns to reds to yellows. Small elements of the canyon and its character I could perceive; the whole stretched beyond my limits. The next day we began our descent. The whole (or should I say hole)was soon lost and only components presented themselves for observation. As I hiked down I found the enormity of this formation fading, and, as I got closer to the bottom I discovered a canyon within the Canyon; one that was much smaller and much narrower. This was where the Colorado River now flowed. It was perceptually manageable. From the bottom of the river canyon I was presented with a view my mind could comfortably hold. It was as if I had to leave the forest to see the trees — quite an unexpected shift in perception.

Paul’s experience — probably the one that occurred on the road to Damascus — impressed more upon him than is described but which is evident in his subsequent ministry and writings. It was as if he absorbed a Grand Canyon of spiritual experience. It was because of this experience that he desired for the Ephesians “That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, [of God’s love].” (Ephesians 3:17-18) It was because of this that he would dare to preach “the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past. But [which has] now been manifested to his holy ones, to whom God chose to make known the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles. It is Christ in you.”

The trees blocking the vision of the Pharisees has been too frequently discussed to require a re-hash here. Therefore, let’s consider our own spiritual Grand Canyon, remembering that living life sequentially makes it difficult to see the forest, and, like the Grand Canyon, the whole may seem unfathomable.

I have known many people who have expressed apprehension about the afterlife. Their concern does not arise from a fear of hell, but from a ‘fear’ of heaven.

Lounging on clouds, conversing with angels, listening to hymns, and similar ‘heavenly’ events seem boring, particularly when stretched into eternity. They echo the advertisement: “been there, done that.” The problem, of course, is in their trees, the ones that get in the way.

In the letters of John we are told that ‘God is Love.’ Now that notion is an unfathomable mystery, a Grand Canyon of spiritual excess and we resort to examining the details. In the course of such progressive thinking, God becomes a Being who loves a lot. But that is not what John said. He said “God is Love.” He proposes an equivalence. God is not a being who loves. Rather, He is a Grand Canyon of Love, impossible to fully embrace either mentally or visually. I know love, if only on a small, intermittent scale. Forget the clouds and angels and hymns and imagine an eternity awash with love. Not yet been there; not yet done that.