A thing of beauty is a joy forever

I am in Stillwater, Minnesota on a warm day in May, inside a theological bookstore located in a building that was once a church. I am searching through row upon row of books, when I hear the sound of someone coming in through the door just off to my left. I glance up. She looks to be about thirty years old, dressed from the top of her head to the top of her shoes in white. I am sure she is a Catholic sister and I am sure she is beautiful. She greets me with a smile and a nod of her head, and as I return the greeting, she moves past me further into the store. A short time later I sense movement to my right, and look up to see her again as she is leaving. As she passes, she once again greets me with a smile and a nod of her head. Again I return the greeting. Then, as she is about to go out the door, I say to her back, “By the way, you look quite beautiful, you know.” She turns, blushes, smiles, and says, “Thank you.” Then as she goes out the door, she adds, perhaps to herself, perhaps to God, “I love wearing this habit.”

I have no lesson here. I simply like that young Catholic sister in her white habit. I like her smile, the blush on her cheeks, the fact that she likes wearing her habit and likes looking beautiful in it. I cherish those few moments in her presence and doubt I will ever forget them.

Often beauty will come, unexpected and undeserved, like a gentle rain in the midst of a dry summer. Our only work is to take notice and give thanks. Still again, we make choices in life. We can choose to look for beauty, goodness, and grace, or we can close our eyes, stop our ears, and howl like some wounded creature caught in a trap, damning all, refusing all, and loving nothing. We can be so inward turned as to find no joy in another’s joy, no compassion for another’s plight, and no desire to reach out and lift up someone who has fallen. Or we can recognize our own need to be loved and figure out that perhaps such is also true for everyone else in this world. We can search out beauty, and when it is found, we can cherish the finding, give thanks to God for such a blessing as this, and hold it in our heart for all time. As John Keats (1795-1821) tells us in his epic poem Endymion, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

Gary

I saw Good Friday

I saw Good Friday

on the news last night.

I witnessed the hate

and fear.

I heard the shouts

of rage,

saw the contorted faces

of hate.

A tall blonde woman,

perhaps beautiful

in repose,

raised her arms,

folded her fingers

into a fist

and shook

until her beauty

left.

There must have been

fathers and mothers

there.

The buses came

then left.

Because these good people,

these descendants of immigrants,

had gathered and now

were shouting,

crucify.

Crucify.

Gary

When something breaks

The sign that marked an acre or more of deserted cars promised, “If it’s broke, we can fix it.”

I remember the time I bought a long florescent light bulb to replace the old one, which had burned out. I took the old bulb along to the store as something to match the new one against. Returning, I drove into the garage, got out of the car, took one bulb in each hand, turned, tripped, and dropped one of the bulbs. I would not be remembering or telling this story, had I dropped the old burned-out one. That new bulb would not be fixed, not even by the self-assured guy who made promises about old cars. Some things cannot be fixed.

I have spoken words to people in anger, and it was as if I had dropped that new florescent light bulb. Something broke and it would not be fixed.

Forgiveness is real, but not magic. It will not change the past or erase the memory. Forgiveness says, “I am sorry for what I have done, and I ask you to love me even though I know, and you know, that I have done this terrible wrong to you.” Forgiveness can heal, but there is no guarantee that either party will forget. Some things cannot be put back together again.

Forgiveness is no excuse for bad behavior. We are responsible for the words we speak, for the lives we live.

In his Small Catechism, Martin Luther’s morning prayer includes this petition: “. . . protect me today from sin and all evil, so that my life and actions may please you.”

Gary