“Come to me…and I will give you rest”

Vermont Avenue and South Jenkins Street (between Duke Street and Wheeler Avenue) are two of the smoothest stretches of asphalt in the West End of Alexandria. I skated there this morning on my refurbished inline skates; I put new wheels on the skates last Saturday. As an inline skater, I look for surfaces that are smooth and hard, but with just enough friction to give my rubber wheels the chance to bite into the surface and make easy turns.

In today’s New York Times, writer George Vecsey describes his love of bicycling and some of the very rough surfaces that competitive cyclists must ride. The Paris-Roubaix race in France features a very bumpy stretch of road made of cobblestones. According to one cyclist, “The best I could do would be to describe it like this — they plowed a dirt road, flew over it with a helicopter, and then just dropped a bunch of rocks out of the helicopter! That’s Paris-Roubaix. It’s that bad; it’s ridiculous.”

We all face struggles in life, some more difficult that others. The cobblestones of Paris-Roubaix are a self-imposed struggle for competitive cyclists. Other rough patches are less welcome. Gliding on my skates along Vermont Avenue in the West End, these words of Jesus came to mind: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

-- Pat Jones

Time Traveler

Well ladies and gentlemen, I’ve finally done it. I am a TIME TRAVELER! I’ve often joked with people about the possibility of time travel. You’re familiar with the “Back to the Future” movies and “Time Machine” books and films. Now, even one of the most popular science fiction programs on television called “Heroes” has a character named “Hiro” who can stop time and move forward and back in time…as part of his plan to save the world.

Well, I have traveled forward in time. It’s only a day, mind you, but it’s a start. Now, for the record, let’s stipulate that today is Saturday, April 11, 2009. The time stamp at the bottom of this text tells you when I actually posted this entry. I don’t control the time stamp. That’s done by some large computer in a faraway place…so we can trust that it’s accurate, right?

Well, earlier today when I sat down to read copy of The Washington Post that was delivered to my house, I opened the paper to the editorial pages and found – low and behold – I traveled to Sunday and came back to today with tomorrow’s paper. I’ve included a couple of pictures to prove it. I have not manipulated these photographs in any way except to crop them to fit in this space so you can see the date. These are authentic photographs, taken on Saturday, April 11, 2009, of the newspaper that will be distributed…TOMORROW.

Note to the amazed and confused: This disturbance in the time space continuum must be the result of the Post’s ongoing restructuring of its newspaper. All the other pages in the front section bear the correct date of Saturday, April 11. Only pages A12 and A13 bear the mark of Sunday, April 12. Perhaps it's just editorial writers and opinion makers who are time travelers. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.

-- Pat Jones

Snickers

Our pet hamster Snickers died overnight. We buried her in the backyard beneath a favorite plant pot. We recited the 23rd Psalm by heart and concluded the funeral liturgy with these words: “We commend you with all the angels and saints to live with our Lord Jesus Christ forever.”

(Note: the picture at left is not Snickers. Unfortunately, I couldn't find an actual picture of Snickers that looked this good. But, you get the idea.)

Snickers was a good hamster. She lived almost two years, which is pretty old for a hamster. She bit my wife only once and peed on our daughter Maria and bit her only once, too. Snickers spent many hours running around the family room and kitchen in a clear plastic sphere. This allowed her to explore every horizontal surface on the main floor of our house and enjoy a good cardio workout every day without the danger that she might disappear behind the piano or underneath the sofa where it would be hard to extract her. If she had any fears or worries, she didn’t talk about them much. Sometimes after gently removing her from the cage for her workout, we would hold her tenderly and feed her a little snack. She would fill her cheeks with food until her head was nearly twice its normal size. Then she would gently burrow and snuggle into the folds in our clothing or the creases in the easy chair where we sat with her.

Her simple plastic and metal cage had two main levels. The bottom level contained her food, water, and exercise wheel. A clear plastic tube led to her upstairs “apartment,” a much more intimate space where she organized her bedding and took long naps.

Snickers was a constant reminder to us of the quotidian mysteries, the daily, ordinary, simple things that one must do to maintain a life: eat, drink, sleep, clean up after yourself, and play. We’ll miss Snickers and all the joy and wonder she brought into our home.

-- Pat Jones

Gift of the Red Bird

“I never saw more than I was willing to risk seeing.”

-- Paula D’Arcy, Gift of the Red Bird: The Story of a Divine Encounter

This line from a book by Paula D’Arcy is the perfect complement to two experiences of mine this Easter weekend.

This morning, I attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting off Mt. Vernon Avenue in Del Ray with my friends Bill, Bud, and Chris. (All of them gave me permission to divulge that they attended this meeting.) I went to the meeting to support my friend Bill who is beginning his third week of sobriety after an emotionally exhausting intervention involving a dozen friends and family members.

While I am not a regular participant in 12-step programs, I know enough people who are involved to be reasonably familiar with the process and its precepts. As stated in the AA Preamble, which was read at the very beginning of today’s meeting, “ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism.” The preamble goes on to say “A.A. is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy; neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.”

One of the common attributes of the addiction to alcohol, as I’ve discovered from my friends in AA, is an ongoing, fierce battle against denial. Denial is a powerful enemy that can lull an alcoholic into a false sense of security that the struggle against the disease is being won; meanwhile, just around the corner, a cunning temptation is lying in wait to sucker the alcoholic back into addiction with a single punch.

My friend Bill and I have had several conversations about his alcoholism in the last two weeks. In describing his denial and the “double life” he led, Bill has not used Paula D’Arcy’s exact words, but they are no less true for him: “I never saw more [of myself and my addiction] than I was willing to risk seeing.” My companionship with Bill at the AA meeting today is one encounter that drives home the mini-sermon from Gift of the Red Bird.

The other encounter that will happen very soon is the gift of Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday. Again, Paula D’Arcy’s words are bold and powerful, putting the story of the gospels in stark relief: “I never saw more than I was willing to risk seeing.”

As we know from reading the gospel narratives of Jesus’ death and resurrection, not one disciple fully understood Jesus when he told them, I will destroy this temple and raise it again in three days. They didn’t understand when he told them that the Son of Man must be put to death, and the Father will raise him again on the third day. Not one of them understood. NOT ONE.

Even when the two disciples went into the empty tomb where Jesus’ body had been placed and they saw the strips of linen lying there as well as the burial cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ head, they still did not understand. “I never saw more than I was willing to risk seeing.”

This season, this moment, this Easter is a time for us to take a risk. It is a time to risk seeing more than we have ever been willing to see before.

-- Pat Jones

Fervent

On this Maundy Thursday, twenty loving souls gathered in our intimate sanctuary to celebrate the Lord’s Supper.

Every gesture, every expression was a jewel in a crown of service.

“…when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt…” (Exodus 12)

“…this cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me…” (I Corinthians 11)

“…then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet…” (John 13)

On this night, every member of the congregation had the opportunity both to be washed and to wash.

The word that filled my mind to describe this holy service is “fervent.”

-- Pat Jones