Saturday, February 28, 2009

BEN : I died again. . . .

I died again yesterday.
      It’s interesting that you mentioned such an event as an anniversary. I had never thought about it like that. When I think of the marking of an anniversary, I think of weddings and birthdays. I suppose as I get older this will change as more of the people who I have lived and loved and laughed will pass from this world to the next.
      Yesterday was rightfully deemed my anniversary. It marked three years since I dreamed about the doors the Cathedral just down the street and felt a strange need to visit this place I had only passed on foot or by car in the midst of what surely was important business.
      When the bells rang that day, I didn’t have a choice. I stopped what I was doing, and I started walking. The thought never occurred to me that I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. I had never been a part of an Ash Wednesday service before, but the anxiety that typically surrounds such an event has been purged from my memory if it was ever part of the experience in the first place.
      Yesterday I sat in a different spot, listened to a different sermon, consumed different wine and was marked with different ashes. Yet somehow I felt as if all that was old had become new and all that was new had grown old. It’s strange to find yourself at the intersection of time and eternity, an intersection that surely has been the location of every Christian who has ever willingly paused to mark the historic journey to death preserved for us in the season of Lent as the words “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” is spoken into our lives once again.
      It is good to be reminded of death. There was a period of time in my development as a man when I believed I was invincible. One might argue that little has changed given my incessant need to occupy myself with important matters of this world that will surely crumble under the weight of eternity.
      I used to give people directions around town using the Cathedral as a landmark. I remember being impressed with its old world design and imposing presence on the corner of 9th and Broad. Now I know it is a holy place where ordinary people come to die.
      For a brief period of time – forty days to be exact – I will make my journey through the wilderness of my own sin to face my own demons so that I might participate in the triumphal entry and then the passion only to end up at the resurrection where I will find myself at another holy intersection and marking another anniversary.
      The good news is that I didn’t die alone.

6 comments:

Joanne : The Simple Wife said...

Hooray for being able to leave a comment!

Just wanted to say to you, Ben, something I've already said to Robert. I'm loving being a part of your conversation and reading your thoughts. Thanks for putting this out into whatever the internet is to share.

This post reminded me of the reading for Ash Wednesday in Wangerin's Reliving the Passion: "When we genuinely remember the death we deserve to die, we will be moved to remember the death the Lord did in fact die--because his took the place of ours."

robert benson and ben stroup said...

Joanne,

Thanks so much for your encouragement. I love the quote.

Feel free to stop by as little or as often as you'd like. I think this conversation is taking place on many levels between many different people in various locations around the world. I hope that by listening in people will find permission to "publish" those thoughts however and whenever they can or desire so that a greater dialogue will take place--one that will surely lead us to integrate our faith into our ordinary living.

Blessings, Ben.

Amy said...

Godspeed on this Lenten journey. We do die each year during this time, but there is tremendous light at the end of the road. We hold to our faith ...

robert benson and ben stroup said...

Thanks so much for stopping by.

I agree.

The challenge for me is to remember to die first and then wait for the light 40 days later. I seem to want to skip the dying part and just welcome the new life that light brings.

Many blessings, Ben.

GailNHB said...

I too am glad that there is space now to leave comments. Thanks for opening this door for your readers and co-travelers to enter.

No, Ben, you did not die alone. Christ's presence with us is the most important one of all. But I am finding that the presence of other travelers on this road of life, this lenten journey, this prayer walk, often means the difference between emotional life and death, between spiritual growth and stagnation, between solitude and loneliness.

Thanks again for your words and this conversation.

robert benson and ben stroup said...

Gail,

Death is a very individual act for us physically. Thinking about a "corporate" death confirms the paradox in which we live and love and faith.

Together we die and together we will rise again.

Many blessings, Ben.