Mystic Musings: Lent 3/01
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.”Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through it and Other Stories
I don’t think I have ever been able to make sense of these words by Norman Maclean. If you try too hard to explain them, I think they lose their power. But every time I read it, I can feel something deep inside of me that feels understood, caressed, and loved.
Photo by Zhivko Minkov @lazywhiskey
As a Christian pastor I was asked to do dozens, if not hundreds of memorial services over my more than three decades in professional ministry. I found myself quoting these words often at graveside services. There was something about standing at the head of a casket with a family in front of me that naturally drew these words out of me. I never tried to explain them. I just used them as a way to comfort the survivors. I felt hope in the eternal words, “Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” But more than that those final lines invited people to both ponder and face the unsettling mystery of death: “On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”
Photo by Gabriel Jimenez @gabrielj_photography
At the end of the graveside service, I would look over those gathered one last time and then say again, “Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.” I would pause for a moment to allow each person to feel the power of those words and then I would grab a handful of dirt or grass and while sprinkling it on the casket would provide the final commendation saying, “And now we commend to Almighty God, Jenny Smith, and we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. They rest from their labors and their works follow them.”
Imagine being at a graveside service. Sit quietly. As you exhale breathe out the grief you have felt in your life. As you inhale breathe in the deeper goodness that holds all of us close. Ponder these questions:
Who have you lost in your life? Do you feel that they are being held by loving hands?
Does the idea of death being a mystery comfort you, disturb you, give you hope, frighten you?
What is “the river” for you in these words by Norman Maclean? God? Spirit? Divine Energy? Life Force? Love?