FROM THE BOUNDARY: Boldly they rode and well……

“The voice of one crying in the wilderness.” Do you hear it? You should. It’s your voice – and my voice. It’s the cry we all have deep down – the cry which expresses the yearning to meet the divine, the cry for answers to our ultimate concerns, the cry of pain and loneliness, the cry of the human spirit which will never be stifled. It was Jesus’ cry too when the wild beasts confronted him, the wild beasts of his own nature, just as they also confront us. So in some way this voice expresses who I am and what I represent, and who you are. But then, who are we? Who are we “really”, you and I? Let’s at least ask the question before we die.

Well, we’re now in Lent so the question is a fair one, isn’t it? If we say we’re having a love affair with God, that we’re both lover and beloved, then surely the questions we have about this God we love are fairly mirrored in the questions we have, or should have, about ourselves. Yes: know thyself. Isn’t Lent really about just that – knowing yourself?

Let’s explore this ‘me’ and ‘ you’ a little then. By ‘you’ (and ‘me’) do we mean the ‘you’ as you see yourself – or the ‘you’ which other people see – or the ‘you’ you would want other people to see – or the ‘you’ you really want to be? Did your Mom or Dad say you were ‘special’ when you were a kid? If they did, what was it, in their eyes, which made you special? Again, if you say ‘I am made in the image and likeness of God’ what qualities are you giving yourself?

Is the ‘you’ which is really ‘you’ the sum of your body parts? Or is the ‘you’ that deep consciousness which directs your body parts into action, probably located somewhere in your skull and maybe between your eyes, so that your body is actually separate from ‘you’, like a car being driven by its owner. What about your breathing? Is that ‘you’, that and all the other things which go on inside your body like the blood which courses through your veins?

Does your name summarise you – so that, for example, the name ‘Hall’, like the overworked joke, makes me a kind of convict? Or would you ask “What’s in a name?” with Juliet? What about compiling a list of qualities we’d say we have. Would that be you – as I might say ‘I am Clifford Hall, a white Anglican priest who once taught law at UWI, and who enjoys writing poetry, writing a Sunday column, and ballet dancing flat footed in first?

We could go on with these kinds of question. We might, for example, try putting ourselves into a sort of category. We might ask, say, ‘Am I a free spirited, creative and rebellious sort of person who goes his own way, is receptive of beautiful things in life, and asks a lot of questions? Or am I a sleeping sort of person who does what I’m told, whose responses to situations and events can readily be predicted, and who has never actually had an original thought of my own?’ If I’d asked myself the question, I’d be asking in essence whether I’m really my own person, a unique ‘me’, or whether I’m really ‘other people’, a mere copyist. In the latter case, I’d be acknowledging that I’m really a prisoner whose prison walls are the conditionings I’ve had pretty well from the womb – conditionings by parents, teachers, the Church, society, the media, and even – as Sir Hilary Beckles would have it – by history. In other words, am I what other people expect me to be because they expect me to be like them?

When Whitney Houston died, it saddened me greatly. For me, she’ll always be the Whitney of ‘The Bodyguard’, the Whitney of ‘I Will Always Love You’, the Whitney whose voice was of God, not the Whitney, as I learned the other day, of false hair and false teeth. Was she her own person or a puppet of other people, I wonder? What of people, too, like John Lennon or Bob Marley, or Liszt or Wagner, or Galileo or Socrates? Or Jesus? Who WAS he? Who was he “REALLY”?

When Whitney died, many people had a lot to say, much of it judgmental. But you know, her death was hers, not ours. We didn’t really know her, understand her – her joys, hopes, fears, pains. It’s a bit like going to the dentist. It’ll be me that feels the pain, not you, and my death will be mine, not yours. So go your way. Don’t be so quick to judge anyone. Is that ‘you’, a judge?
You know, as I was scribbling this in my study I suddenly realized that a Whitney song was being played on the radio in the sitting room. A coincidence, yes? Or more – a whisper from eternity, which the ancients said was God speaking to us. Only the thinnest of veils separates us from it,l as you’ll know very well if you’re a sensitive sort of person.

I didn’t know the name of the song that was played. But I went straight to YouTube and played her greatest hits – very loudly. Do you remember ‘A Moment in Time’? The lyrics have a very special place here:-

“Give me one moment in time/when I’m more than I thought I could be/ when all my dreams are a heartbeat away/ and the answers are all up to me/……/then in that one moment in time/ I will be free/ I will be free.”

Bless you ever, Whitney. Sure our “final day is yet unknown” too. Yet, despite all the pains, the broken hearts, the ups and downs of life, here in this wilderness of ours, “this much remains”.

So: who ARE you? Who are you “REALLY”? Who is the remnant of you which is still there despite everything? Who is the ‘you’ whom God loves best, whom your wife and children love, whom your friends respect and your enemies hate? Well, in the wilderness of Lent maybe you’ll begin to find answers, with the wild beasts of your very selves for company. Remember you’re not alone in this, so don’t be afraid. We’re all in the same wilderness with you, even the great and the good, even a bishop or two. And be assured. If things get too tough, the angels will minister to you. They’ve been there many times before and have old and wise hands to sort you out.

Go safely, then – until the next time

Same poet from the boundary: “Always remember who you are even if you remember nothing”………”Swallow your dogmas whole; a dogma is a mother dog. Are you a son of a dogma?” (James Broughton).