Eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time
March 2 , 2003


What was the ‘golden age’ of your life of faith?

“If you could go back and live one year of your life over, when would that be?” If you ask people that question, you’ll get a variety of responses. Some would say the year they got married, others, their senior year in high school/college; still others would say: ‘this year – always this year…" As for me, I’d live my 24th year over in a heartbeat. It was a great year school-wise. I enjoyed good friends, some great wedding receptions of friends, and then the trip all through Europe that summer. It was the golden year of my life in many ways. And I would go back there in a heartbeat.

But, if you ask me, what year would I go back and live over in terms of my response to Jesus – you’ll receive a different answer. That would be 1989. I was 5 years ordained, still at my first assignment. Prayer was good, I loved the people where I was, I wasn’t the pastor – just the lowly associate, and there seemed to be a magic to my life that was the gift of grace. It was not without it’s difficulties. But those were halcyon days in my walk with God.

“Thus says the Lord – I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart. And she shall respond there as in the days of her youth…” When the people of Israel reflected on their halcyon days – it was always the desert time - a simpler time, a less divided and distracted time. Life was simple for the Israelites. God led. You followed. God provided manna and water. You ate and drank. And because there were no distractions, nothing else to do, there was a purity to their response that they never quite captured again. The desert was the honeymoon time for Israel.

“How can the guests at the wedding fast while the groom is still with them?” comes the question from Jesus. In the honeymoon time of the relation, there is no need for mortification. There is an energy there, a passion there that is like new wineskins – things stretch and move and grow, and the wine of relationship mellows and ages and becomes a thing of depth and grace and beauty. But it needs a freshness that was not found in the rituals and sacrifices and fastings of their day. It was the halcyon days in the lives of the disciples.

So I found myself at prayer asking the question this week – What was the best year of my faith life, the year I’d do over in a heartbeat? And, once I had identified that, I asked what is missing from my life that I knew during those honeymoon years? What do I need to recover from those days that were a part of my life of faith? I came up with three answers - three ways that God is still speaking to my heart, still asking for new wineskins in my life.

  1. Simplicity of heart. I wanted less, expected less, and did not feel that life ‘owed’ me anything. In fact, the more I gave my life away to others, the fuller my life felt. Simplicity calls me back to the desert.
  2. Late night walks. I loved the neighborhood around Epiphany. The sight and scent of the dogwoods in the spring, the flower boxes neatly planted, even the alley’s held a warmth and charm as I prayed my way through the parish. And in those late night walks, I would sense God wooing me, loving me, helping me get through my mistakes and my shortcomings. Time spent alone outside was good for my soul.
  3. Connected-ness to the lives of the people I served. I knew the sorrows. I was invited to the joys. I did the weddings and the funerals and the baptisms. I stayed out late at parties. I had long and sometimes heated conversations about the pastor (oops – can’t do that anymore…). I felt I knew the stories and the struggles of their lives. And that I was making a difference. Connected-ness calls my heart.

What were the halcyon days of your faith life? And, as you prepare for Lent – what is the new wineskin you need to put on to return to the desert – to return to those days of great fervor and great love?