"...tell me what you re-read"

'Tell me what you read and I'll tell you who you are'
is true enough,
but I'd know you better if you told me what you reread.
~François Mauriac

     In re-reading a book (or re-watching a movie, or re-listening to music, et c.), we are invited back to a familiar world, with known spaces and pre-existing relationships. We know our favourite characters, settings, moods, and something about that draws us back in. 

     But… when we re-read a book, or re-watch a program, sometimes different things pop out to us. We notice new nuances, we consider new perspectives, we relate differently to the personalities and spaces and movements.
     The text or script or score has remained the same; what has changed is us. 
     As we have lived, we have encountered new people, new ideas, new perspectives – and we have (ideally) grown. We have changed; so when we re-enter the world we knew, we are doing so as a different version of ourselves. 
     A prime example from Blane last Sunday is Lewis’ Narnia stories. Our first time through the wardrobe we may be the age of the Pevensie children, and are enthralled by a lamp and a faun and a lion… perhaps we re-visit the tale as a teen, and see deeper meaning to the Turkish delight, stone table, and the Beavers’ hospitality. As adults, we may read the story to a child (enthralling them with wonder!) while personally delving deeper with the messages of trust and companionship and historical contexts and allegories. As mature Christians, we see the spiritual journey of a never-ending winter, sacrifice, statues.... (If I’ve lost you, please go read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It’s gorgeous!)
     The point being: we engage with the narrative based on what we bring to the narrative. We are influenced by the story as much as we are willing and able to be by our experiences, our histories, our openness, our presence. 
     It is helpful to remember this when we engage with all manner of media over and over again. What do we read? What do we listen to? What do we watch? And why – what is speaking to us in these constant messagings that we dive into? This is especially when we consider our engagement with sacred texts, and music, and spiritual offerings today. Many of us engaged the Bible stories as children, and possibly as teens, and that's where our studying and questioning stopped. So what does it mean to re-read these stories now, as adults, at a different time our lives and in our shared histories?
     I invite us to be intentional this week with our spiritual and biblical literacy, and revisit a text with new eyes and an open heart. As we go back to a favourite passage or prayer or practice, let’s be aware of who we are going into that relationship now – and delight in the way that God continues to speak to us through it. 

Hungry

Screenshot from Carnegie Museum of Art; 
https://cmoa.org/event/performers-at-play-ceremonies/

      There’s an apocryphal story of a group of hungry people with long spoons, all gathered around a stewpot. When they try to feed themselves, they are unable to, as the handle of the spoon is longer than their arms. However, when they try to feed the person on the opposite side of the table, because the distance apart is the length of the spoon, they are able to offer nourishment to one another. 
     We are fed, my friend Chris reminded me recently, when we feed each other. 
     As we are still in this COVID time, we are getting tired and annoyed by the isolation, the distancing, the lack of contact – all of it. And in many places, restrictions are increasing; draining our energy even more than ‘normal’ as we can’t go to our tried-and-true practices of getting together, hugging, breaking bread together, etc. 
     This week, it would be easy to be caught up in the sadness; as we have seen royal grievers sitting alone (and lonely); as we have felt absences in our own lives. 
     We are hungry. Individually and collective; emotionally and spiritually. We are hungry, and the metaphorical spoons we need to feed ourselves remain obstacles. 
     But we are not alone. We are distanced, but not hermits. We have the opportunity to use what we have to reach across the 2m table (as it were!). We can offer nourishment: through prayer, friendship, random acts of kindness, compassion. Through phone calls, letters, distanced walks, grocery pick-ups. Whatever we do to help and connect with one another is a way that we reach out to feed someone else, and we can trust that we too will be fed – by the action of feeding each other, and trusting that we are in this situation together. 
     Perhaps this is why so much of Jesus’ teachings have to do with food; he was regularly feeding and being fed, and highlighting the power in that relationship. What a great reminder for us to consider our own hunger and our opportunity to nourish.