Make me
an angel that flies from Montgom'ry
Make me
a poster of an old rodeo
Just
give me one thing that I can hold on to
To
believe in this living is just a hard way to go
(Chorus
from “Angel from Montgomery” by John Prine)
As old as I am, I should know better. I should know that reality is often a far cry
from the presented illusion. It has been
a tough couple of weeks . . . nights without sleep . . . days interrupted by
invading thoughts . . . twisted words . . . illusions being shattered . . .
life in general being a far cry from what my optimistic self would like to
believe. It has been days since I have
felt rested and centered on my life and the world around me . . . probably a
combination of anxiety, stress, disappointment, and disillusionment . . . of
things not being the way I think that they should be. It has just been a “hard way to go”.
With my employment with the university
I have been drawn into the politics of academic life . . . I have been drawn
into the business of education. The
idealist in me believed that universities—bastions of higher education—were created
to encourage learning and growth; but, I have learned that universities and
places of higher education are nothing more than businesses that sell
education. Like any business, the bottom
line is profit. When times are good in
higher education there is the illusion of the greater good of educating future
generations for the betterment of society; but when the profit is down or there
is actual loss, universities and places of higher education are nothing more
than businesses that would rival the practices of WalMart or other corporate
entities. When people are scared the
only mode of operation is the survival of the fittest . . . lots of politics,
back-stabbing, and unethical practices taking place. It has not been a fun place to work the past
couple of months.
Within the job that I do at the
university I promote professional development for educators. This is a task that is offered for the
Montana Office of Public Instruction.
For the past few years the emphasis has been on the Common Core
Standards . . . something slowly embraced by the educators, and even embraced
at a slower rate among the state’s constituents. It has been a battle that has been nasty and
seen the group I work for being quietly pushed out. Again, there is a lot of half-truths,
politics, and questionable ethics used as everyone races towards the money and
survival. It has not made it fun to come
to work each day.
Into this tense mix has come a sadness
caused by a fellow clergyperson breaking the boundaries of ministry . . . a
confusing case, but a breaking of the boundaries. I was one of those called upon to investigate
the situation, discern the issues, and suggest the consequences . . . it was
not easy. The region in which I serve as
a pastor is small . . . everyone knows everyone . . . and, it hurts to see a
mistake made by someone you know and care about. Lives have been touched . . . lives have been
changed. There is anger, confusion,
disappointment, heartbreak, and lots of sadness. This has weighed heavy on my heart for a
couple of weeks now . . . I have lost more than one night tossing over this
situation.
Then there is the constant concern for
family . . . for children who continue to move through their lives . . . for
children who continue to run into obstacles in their lives . . . for children
who seem to be paddling like hell to stay afloat while the world wants to pound
them to a pulp. There are relatives . .
. brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and even a parent . . . who we have not
seen in a long time who are getting older and dealing with the issues that come
with getting older. There are friends we
hear from . . . issues in their lives . . . and, being miles apart unable to
help beyond a kind word and prayer.
Life has been no fun lately. Where is the party I thought life was
supposed to be? Where is the joy? Where is the laughter? Where is the life?
A benediction is a short invocation
for divine help, blessing, and guidance from God asked at the end of a worship
service. Each Sunday morning I pronounce
a benediction upon the congregation for God’s presence in the days to
come. It is a prayer of hope . . . a
prayer of expectation . . . a prayer of presence to help those gather make it
through the days to come. Lately, I have
needed a benediction . . . not to make it through the days to come, but to make
it through the day that is. It has been
my evening prayer each night as I lay my head upon my pillow hoping to fall
asleep . . . a benediction.
John Prine’s song, Angel from Montgomery, is about an old
woman who longs for what she had hoped for when she was a young woman filled
with dreams. Life is routine and a far
cry from the excitement she thought life would be like. Dreams are broken . . . desire is lost . . .
time has not been good to her . . . and, each day it does not get any
better. Her despair is summed up in the
line she has about her husband: How the
hell can a person go to work in the morning and come home in the evening and
have nothing to say. Life sucks . .
. she needs a benediction. Hers is
simple: Just give me one thing that I can
hold on to; to believe in this living is just a hard way to go.
Isn’t that what any of us want at the
end of the day . . . something to hang onto?
A benediction . . . God, are you listening?
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