Dear Friends,
The summer whizzed by with such speed that it’s all rather blurry for me. The General Convention of the Episcopal Church happened in the first two weeks of July, and before I blinked, it was time to head north to the Saint Lawrence River for adventures and escapades, one of which involved a boat and a lot of laughter.
On a late evening, after visiting friends at a neighboring island, Tom and I untied the lines from the dock and started the engine of our little boat. Within seconds I discovered that the wind’s strength was much greater than the tiny idle of the boat’s engine. And because it was dark and the stern light was hampering my vision (the captain makes excuses), within a few seconds all I could hear was the bottom of the boat and the propeller hitting rocks. I quickly turned off the engine, raised it out of the water, and watched as the shore of the island came within reach. No use in yelling for help for the sound of the wind and the waves. Tom pulled out his phone to text our hosts, but they were being good hosts and not using their phones, of course! There was only one thing to do: jump in the water and push-swim the boat back to the dock, about 30 feet away. So I did, and all was well. No damage to the boat or the propeller, and away we went landing safely at home about 10 minutes later. I laughed the entire way home and woke up the next morning still laughing, at the absurdity of jumping into the River to push the boat to the dock.
Now, if you were to ask Tom about what happened he’d probably tell you a different story. The same event with two different perspectives, neither of which would deliver the singular truth. Taken together, however, an accurate picture of this “very River” scene would come into focus.
I tell you this because it’s how I understand Holy Scripture. It’s God’s Word given to us in a multi-dimensional fashion, full of individual perspectives. The sign outside of a church in the Thousand Islands reads, “preaching the infallible Word of God since 1888”—I cringe every time I drive by it. In one sense my cringing is actually pity because seeking absolute certainty where it can’t be found—in literalism—has never brought about lasting security. The Bible always offers a fresh word for a fresh day, and when I approach it with that perspective, I almost always find grace or insight.
In his book, How to Cure a Fanatic, the Israeli author, Amos Oz, believes that the perfect remedy for fanaticism is a sense of humor. He writes, “humor contained the ability to laugh at ourselves, the capacity to realize that no matter how righteous you are there is a certain side of life that’s always funny.” I think a sense of humor is required to know and to understand scripture, too. It’s the inconsistencies and disparities of the Bible that give its authors authenticity. Their different life experiences and outlooks lend a fuller shape to the truth.
About the incident on Bluff Island and the boat that drifted to shore and hit the rocks? I swam really well, and afterward while soaking wet sat on my iPhone and ruined it. But don’t share that admission with Tom Mousin; he might laugh at my honesty.
Here’s to a great 10th year together, to laughing and learning.
Faithfully in Christ,
