2023-12-15 A Meditation on Shadow Effect

“34 And when they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret. 35 And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent around to all that region and brought to him all who were sick 36 and implored him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment. And as many as touched it were made well.” (Mt 14:34–36 ESV)

With a certain glimmer of hope, the rational and calculating master of plan divvies up and makes sides. For, she or he always keeps in mind we work for an Invisible Power, found in the elusive shadowy corners hidden away from certain martyrdom or, rather, simply not acknowledged and tapped, not mined, not utilized. Their season of peace is our investment in Tomorrow. They carry the mantle, as—it is said—the monasteries held humankind’s light aloft through the Dark Ages. They are preaching a Word with their behavior, quickly dragged before magistrates, quickly dispatched to the gallows, quickly found in song and thanksgiving: for this brief sojourn with a spiritual Guide called Christ.

Thank you, we say in unison, and see now that plateau simultaneously owned and awestruck: we own our thoughts and reasoning, but at times are humbled at just how much a shot in the void it is, into the expanse, into the nebula, what emerges is according to a Master Plan and Choreography that had thus guided His people the prophets, His people the healers, His people the preachers, His people the deacons, His people the prayer-warriors. The soldier. The emergence of a breakwater, a winnowing fork such that all on one side of the divide is such a tide, and such a tide is in opposite direction on the other side: of the surfacing breakwater, such that Judgment begins; were you of the Humble Cohort? Were you of the Je Ne Sais Quois mad dash, the faith-based sojourn, the devil-may-care illustriousness and bravado? For, those coveting their status as Saved do sin so much by way of not making the firm investment, not taking the risk of so-called manifest sins, not believing Salvation is nearer at hand than it was the last dry run we went through. To prepare for war. To awaken to a clarion Call. To surface and see the waters part. To speak into a deep void and put faith in the simpler things, friendship, each of our weird knacks or clamoring for a peer nearby: see, that that is no sin, though easily classified as such. Whom and to who we are endeared is indeed a secret, only insofar as our Service is in the Temple of the Living Lord, whose singers and attendants, priests in garb and gatemasters, do perform that anonymous Aid to a society easily hurt by the near encounter. Near encounter with a hater. Near with someone bungling and inept, unwilling to make for peace, a crown simply of the Other’s mighty war within their own ranks. For that is our bleary zone, our upset stomach, our sense we somehow are abiding near to personal sins.

So we of all people are most grateful, to have our sanctuary and oasis, not impeded upon; our thoughts not the fruit of our better reasonings but fruit of Spirit; our safety no sure thing but a Gift. The hoards along with the well-wishers approach the Nativity scene, and we nod gently in this general direction of Something Godly, Something Holy, Something Making for Peace.

We were once certain that our personal story was kosher; now, it is met with aloof disdain or zealous scoffing. Because all the praise bands in the world cannot announce the spiritual gift of Absolution. They sing, we pray, they pray, we heal. Rediscovering or making the good investment in a friend. Capable and determined to be that People healed and sinless. No longer cavalier, but respectful of the highwater marks of our so-called enemies, who are just as possessed of a certainty, who are frightening all decked out and in costume, who raise the prospect that we shall immediately try and make for peace, after all, with our neighbors and our near relatives. To fight a common foe. No longer faulted for one momentary thought out of ten thoughts each day, one that is etched in stone as our final judgment; the errant email, the off-hand disrespect, the accidental misinterpreted remark. We all need an Advocate, and that Advocate is Christ, humored and patient to acknowledge us even as His Cross was cause for twenty-four-seven meditation, even as He was heading to the gallows. Our life is lived near to those for whom we Serve. Our service is wrapped up in mighty endeavors, and we, the footsoldiers do make haste to speak while it is still dawn of time. Early humankind we and us, entering new eras of possibility, or a new Middle Ages, Dark Ages, or a New Renaissance, art and determined spirit of culture rampant. Bursting forth. Bubbling over. Together, we are stronger in twos then solo; a threefold cord is not easily broken (Eccles 4:12). So the calculations and the Plan are in the shade of a True Belief that Spirit Leads, that in the blink of an eye something shifts, either towards atheism or toward Faith. More than that, we do not discount the unbeliever’s mark on affairs. They may be closer to Grace than we who observe the Sabbath and worship in corporate fashion. Who knows.