I ran across this poem recently. It is by Delmore Schwartz, an American poet of the early 20th Century. He lived in New York and many of his poems are of the observational type. He simply looks around him and describes what he sees. It is often the very mundane, people walking in a park, or sitting on a bus, but in his description it becomes something more. Something eternal, in a way.
The poem I am referring to is titled “Calmly We Walk Through This April Day.” It begins, “Calmly we walk through this April's day, / Metropolitan poetry here and there, / In the park sit pauper and rentier, / The screaming children, the motor-car.” The poet goes on to observe that things are passing by, all we see will one day be gone.
Time, like an ever rolling stream,/ Bears all its sons away; / They fly, forgotten, as a dream / Dies at the opening day. Maybe that seems more familiar. The hymn “O God Our Help in Ages Past” has as the 5th verse this somewhat depressing realization that we are helpless in the face of the march of time.
Or maybe it is just me. Having just come through an ordeal with my father in law and presiding over his funeral, maybe I am seeing things through a glass dimly. We took some time off, mostly because Ellen Rhoades, who is much wiser than I am apparently, knew I needed it. And she was right. The reordering of life, the re-examination of time is a difficult process that weighs on us more that I realized. “Time is the fire in which we burn,” Schwartz writes. And it isn’t easy, this being burned up thing. This being burned out.
Which might be why our passage for this week is one we avoid at all costs. Oh, it is familiar enough, thanks to the folk rock group the Byrds and their song “Turn, Turn, Turn” way back in the mid 60's. So, we know it, but do we really embrace it? Or even understand it? Read this, (and try not to let the tune enter your head while you do!)
Ecclesiastes 3:1-17 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 7 a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. 9 What gain have the workers from their toil? 10 I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. 11 He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; 13 moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. 14 I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. 15 That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by. 16 Moreover I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there as well. 17 I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for he has appointed a time for every matter, and for every work.
We went on a bit long there. Longer than we are used to, anyway. We usually stop before verse 9 which raises a question we’d rather not think about. And you can’t help but feel, as you read on from there, that the Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes, while tradition believed it was Solomon, calls himself Qohelet, which is translated as the Teacher, or the Preacher) says “what’s the point? Just eat, drink and be merry, cause that’s all there is!”
Some have tried to find some significance to the list of things there is a time for in the first part of this reading. Declaring that these are the weighty matters of life, these are the things that God makes time for, and anything else ought not to be engaged in. Sort of an ancient “never be triflingly employed” that John Wesley quoted much later on. And maybe there is something to this list. But on the other hand it just seems like an arbitrary list (a time to seek and a time to lose?) that we could continue almost ad infinitum – a time to sleep in and a time to get up, a time to eat Cheerios and a time for toast, a time to play ping pong and a time to read your Kindle, and on and on and on. And on.
So what do we do with this seemingly meaningless existence? Do we just enjoy it while it lasts? Or do we find something bigger to live for? Something more profound to build our existence around? And how do we find that in the midst of the ever rolling stream that bears all our sons, our loved ones, ourselves away?
I don’t know for sure, to be honest and I hope that Pastor Chris can figure this out for us on Sunday morning (you think I’d tackle something like this?), but in the meantime I offer you the conclusion of the poem that I found as perhaps a pointer to that something. Take a look:
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Maybe that’s what we’re left with. Yes, there is the fire that burns, yes there is loss and grief and that which is no more. But there is also the school in which we learn. We are the result of our experiences and our encounters. I have learned from the past and from those I have known in the past. While some are now gone what I have learned remains with me and becomes part of what I have to teach and to share to others.
Which means maybe this fire that burns isn’t a consuming fire, but a purifying one. One that makes us stronger, better. Maybe when the Preacher says that God has appointed a time for every matter, we are that matter; a time for every work, we are that work. Maybe time is a gift, our gift and how we use it, what we fill it with is our response to that gift.
What time is it? Maybe that is a deeper question than we realized. Maybe it is more theological than we usually admit.
What time is it? Your time. My time. God’s time. It’s time.
Shalom,
Derek
The poem I am referring to is titled “Calmly We Walk Through This April Day.” It begins, “Calmly we walk through this April's day, / Metropolitan poetry here and there, / In the park sit pauper and rentier, / The screaming children, the motor-car.” The poet goes on to observe that things are passing by, all we see will one day be gone.
Time, like an ever rolling stream,/ Bears all its sons away; / They fly, forgotten, as a dream / Dies at the opening day. Maybe that seems more familiar. The hymn “O God Our Help in Ages Past” has as the 5th verse this somewhat depressing realization that we are helpless in the face of the march of time.
Or maybe it is just me. Having just come through an ordeal with my father in law and presiding over his funeral, maybe I am seeing things through a glass dimly. We took some time off, mostly because Ellen Rhoades, who is much wiser than I am apparently, knew I needed it. And she was right. The reordering of life, the re-examination of time is a difficult process that weighs on us more that I realized. “Time is the fire in which we burn,” Schwartz writes. And it isn’t easy, this being burned up thing. This being burned out.
Which might be why our passage for this week is one we avoid at all costs. Oh, it is familiar enough, thanks to the folk rock group the Byrds and their song “Turn, Turn, Turn” way back in the mid 60's. So, we know it, but do we really embrace it? Or even understand it? Read this, (and try not to let the tune enter your head while you do!)
Ecclesiastes 3:1-17 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 7 a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. 9 What gain have the workers from their toil? 10 I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. 11 He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; 13 moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. 14 I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. 15 That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by. 16 Moreover I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there as well. 17 I said in my heart, God will judge the righteous and the wicked, for he has appointed a time for every matter, and for every work.
We went on a bit long there. Longer than we are used to, anyway. We usually stop before verse 9 which raises a question we’d rather not think about. And you can’t help but feel, as you read on from there, that the Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes, while tradition believed it was Solomon, calls himself Qohelet, which is translated as the Teacher, or the Preacher) says “what’s the point? Just eat, drink and be merry, cause that’s all there is!”
Some have tried to find some significance to the list of things there is a time for in the first part of this reading. Declaring that these are the weighty matters of life, these are the things that God makes time for, and anything else ought not to be engaged in. Sort of an ancient “never be triflingly employed” that John Wesley quoted much later on. And maybe there is something to this list. But on the other hand it just seems like an arbitrary list (a time to seek and a time to lose?) that we could continue almost ad infinitum – a time to sleep in and a time to get up, a time to eat Cheerios and a time for toast, a time to play ping pong and a time to read your Kindle, and on and on and on. And on.
So what do we do with this seemingly meaningless existence? Do we just enjoy it while it lasts? Or do we find something bigger to live for? Something more profound to build our existence around? And how do we find that in the midst of the ever rolling stream that bears all our sons, our loved ones, ourselves away?
I don’t know for sure, to be honest and I hope that Pastor Chris can figure this out for us on Sunday morning (you think I’d tackle something like this?), but in the meantime I offer you the conclusion of the poem that I found as perhaps a pointer to that something. Take a look:
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Maybe that’s what we’re left with. Yes, there is the fire that burns, yes there is loss and grief and that which is no more. But there is also the school in which we learn. We are the result of our experiences and our encounters. I have learned from the past and from those I have known in the past. While some are now gone what I have learned remains with me and becomes part of what I have to teach and to share to others.
Which means maybe this fire that burns isn’t a consuming fire, but a purifying one. One that makes us stronger, better. Maybe when the Preacher says that God has appointed a time for every matter, we are that matter; a time for every work, we are that work. Maybe time is a gift, our gift and how we use it, what we fill it with is our response to that gift.
What time is it? Maybe that is a deeper question than we realized. Maybe it is more theological than we usually admit.
What time is it? Your time. My time. God’s time. It’s time.
Shalom,
Derek
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