In July 1945
a very short item by C.S. Lewis called “Meditation in a Toolshed” appeared in
print. In it he relates a lesson about discerning truth that came to him while
seeing a beam of sunlight come through the roof in his toolshed. Similarly, as
I was raking leaves a day or two ago, a lesson came to me about the Christian
life.
In October
2001 I spent a week at a clergy refreshment and formation conference. At one
point the leader encouraged the forty or so of us to come up with a “BHAG”
(pronounced bee-hag)—a “Big Hairy Audacious Goal” for our lives. She said that
a BHAG was something that would take at least ten years to achieve, and had no
guarantee of ever being achieved.
At the
closing gathering we all sat in a circle, and she asked if anyone would be
willing to share whatever BHAG he or she had come up with. There was probably a
full minute of silence, so I decided to go first. I raised my hand, got the
go-ahead, and said, “I’d like to be included in a future edition of Lesser Feasts and Fasts.” (This is a
listing of saints in the calendar of the Episcopal Church.)
There was a
pregnant silence for about two seconds, and then the entire group erupted into
the loudest, most spontaneous, most feverishly uncontrolled group laughter I’ve
ever heard: people doubled over in their seats, slapped their thighs, and
guffawed. Tears came down some faces. It went on for about a minute.
Well, I
intended it to be funny and to break the ice, and that certainly worked. When
the laughter died down and the tears were wiped away, others began to share
their BHAGs.
But here’s a
secret: I meant it. Not that I be recognized and celebrated by future
generations as a saint—that’s not what I wanted. But I do want to become truly
saintly. Really, for everyone it is the only “BHAG” to have.
One of my
favorite blogs is called “The Catholic Gentleman”, written by a fellow named
Sam Guzman, a husband and father in Wisconsin. The tagline for his blog is “Be
a Man, Be a Saint”. He’s nailed it. This vision, this goal certainly goes way
against the grain in today’s culture, but the culture is spectacularly wrong.
Being a man and being a saint is the only purpose of a man’s life. Saint Paul
puts it this way: “For me to live is Christ” (Philippians 1:21) and “I press on to take h old of that for which
Christ Jesus took hold of me” (Philippians
3:12). This is what I want. Indeed, there is nothing else worth wanting—to
become the man Christ calls and empowers me to be. To be a man of virtue: to be
honorable, dedicated to truth, loving to small and great, chaste, patient,
humble, strong, peaceful, courageous… all the virtues. The word “virtue” comes
from the Latin word vir, which mean
“man”. To be a true man means to be virtuous; to fail in virtue is to fail in
manhood.
So what does
this have to do with raking leaves? The week of Thanksgiving is the time when
most of the leaves have fallen and my yard is littered with them. So it’s time
to rake them up. They go into a long pile at the street-edge of the front yard,
and a truck will come through the neighborhood once a week to suck them up. I
could use a leaf-blower, but so far I have resisted. I still use a leaf rake—a
rather small one, actually. It’s much better exercise, uses no power, and it’s
quiet except for the persistent sound of the scrape of the rake against the
earth. And my heavy breathing once I get going. Raking leaves is hard work.
This year I
did the chore over a two day period: first one side, and then the other, moving
the leaves from the back yard (where nearly all the leaves fall) through the
side gates to the front yard and the strip adjacent to the street. You begin
with a few leaves, but it doesn’t take long to build up to a pile, and the more
you rake, the bigger the pile becomes. A half hour into the task, and just to
make a little progress you have to move the entire pile.
As I was
raking, it occurred to me that the spiritual life is like this. The farther you
go, the harder it gets. You can see the clear ground behind you, but ahead is
the daunting, leaf-covered yard and a lot to move just to make the least
progress. The inner voices say, “Take a break; you’ve worked hard enough for
now.” And, “Feel that pain in your shoulders, thighs, and lower back as you
turn and twist and heave the pile forward; that’s gonna really hurt tomorrow. Better stop now.” And, “You don’t need to
finish today. Just leave the pile and come back another time.” And, “Your
neighbors will think you’re either too stupid or too poor to buy a leaf blower.
They’ll think you’re old fashioned or don’t know any better. That young guy
across the street with a leaf blower is obviously smarter and more efficient
than you are.” Or even, “Wow, look at that 69-year-old man go! He doesn’t look
a day over 65!” And, “You can leave that part of the yard unraked; it’s really
not too bad and it’ll be easier and faster to let it go.” These messages are
persistent and repetitive, appearing ever more and more sensible and
attractive.
But as soon
as I connected leaf raking with a dedication to growing in sanctity, I
committed to finishing the job in one day. No giving up, even for a short time
except to breathe deeply for a moment and swallow a little water. Across the
back yard, through the narrow gate, and across the front yard. I recognized
that the inner messages of discouragement, urgings to slow down or rest, or
about what others may be thinking were the same messages that come whenever I
try to become more and more obedient to God and his call to rely on his grace.
Maybe the ever-increasing difficulty is a sign of progress—but really, it’s not
progress but persistence that is important; I don’t think anyone can ever tell
if he is making “progress”.
As I age, I
become more and more aware of my grievous sins, my psychological and emotional
burdens and failures, and how far short I am of life’s real BHAG. I can talk
and preach the message of grace and mercy and God’s love and promises, but it
is still hard for me to internalize it. It’s all grace, but that doesn’t in the
least mean that there is no hard work to be done; on the contrary, the greater
the dedication to “be a man, be a saint”, the harder it is. This is how God
works. Any commitment to another takes work, and the commitment to God most of
all, for there the stakes are highest and the reward the richest. “One thing I
do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on
toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in
Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things” (Philippians 3:13-15).
It took
nearly three hours, but when it was done, there was a good-sized pile of leaves
along the street-side of the front yard. But tomorrow, more leaves will fall.
“Let us live up to what we have attained” (Philippians
3:16).
