Lent 6: On Making Meaning

I'm not a parent, but even so I found this reflection by Ta-Nehisi Coates to be powerful. Coates, a writer for The Atlantic, had again gone off to write in a place he calls The Woods, but was called back by his own expectations of what it means to be a father whose legacy to his son has been greater than he intended. Coates may not be a religious man, but he is a master of the ambiguous art of making meaning out of one's experiences and the relationship of those experiences to the wider world. Many days, I find my own faith pursuing that same project: trying to make sense of the complex, messy, beautiful life I've been given, and knowing that sense will ultimately not present itself to me in isolation. Instead I will only find meaning, make sense, discern my values - the three phrases may be synonymous - when my experiences run into those different from mine, when the limits of my worldview become painfully clear.

The Japan earthquake / tsunami / impending nuclear disaster has been one such boundary for me. I grew up on the prairie in Minnesota, and to this day have never been entirely comfortable with any body of water of which I could not see the opposite shore. Watching video or seeing images of the destruction just makes me feel powerless and small, and gives perspective to my daily concerns of when the dishes will get done or how the bills will be paid.



Ultimately, I realize that our lives are not our own to control or direct as we wish. Faith is, in part, a conviction that though we cannot control our lives, our circumstances, or experiences or even our reactions, we need not be afraid. If God is who our tradition says God is, a God of mercy and love, revealed in the healing, saving, compassionate life and death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ, then we need not fear. Sin, in the form of our failures and the myriad tragedies that befall us, will not have the final say. Death will not have the final say.  No matter how broken our expectations, or our plans, our relationships or even our bodies, love and life, flourishing and abundant, will always be the end of our story.

We pray for the health and safety of the survivors, the mourners, the unnamed heroes of this tragedy, and we pray that the crisis is not further compounded by human-made causes. To donate through ELCA Disaster Response, go here.