The Sacrament of the Present

 My Lenten devotional group today reflected on the need to embrace (in Richard Rohr's words) "the sacrament of the present." Rohr's meditations in God For Us encourage us in the ancient practice of "being here now." We let go of living in the future or the past so that we can be fully present and give our attention to matters immediately before us.

As a practice of visio divina, we spent time contemplating Paul Gauguin's Christ on the Mountain of Olives (1889):

 

Visio divina (the visual art equivalent of lectio divina) involves focusing on a painting and opening oneself to inspiration. You contemplate the portrait. You ask four questions:

What do you see?

What do you feel?

Are you in the painting? If so, where/who?

What is God telling you?

 Since the meeting was on Zoom, I saw only the painting, not its title. I did not immediately catch on that the central figure was Christ on the night he was betrayed. I saw only a man consumed with worry and isolated from companions. He was suffering. It recalled to me times when I have felt isolated, fretting about some matter (including my isolation). 

Learning the painting's title and subject matter solidified my reading. Christ was suffering in heart and mind, knowing at least the broad contours of the more bodily, protracted suffering of the passion and the Cross.

But where Rohr invites us into a present focus that allows worry about what is to come to fall away, Christ here seems both focused on the present and also suffering. The feast of foot washing and communion is over. There's only the sweat drops of blood as he begs God to let this cup pass from him.

What is God telling me? 

I can't help but hear, "Suffering. Suffering is coming." 

Sometimes I think the sacrament of the present isn't sweet like unfermented wine or wholesome like bread. It is bitter and draining, a promise of pain and loss and sacrifice. It is a call to that sacrifice, not for the glory of martyrdom but out of love for the world, even the parts that inflict pain and hate.

I read words by Timothy Burke, a voice I usually listen to for perspective and calm. He argues that "the Trump Administration is not just walking away from the world system established in the aftermath of World War II. It is quite seriously running towards a world where territorial aggression and imperial conquest are entirely thinkable—and where the United States will not just ignore aggression in the spirit of isolationism but will actively pursue it for itself."

This is no bluff, Burke stresses. It has become increasingly evident that Trump and his closest allies believe this sincerely and deeply. (Burke speculates some of them may even accept the inevitability of global warming, encouraging climate-skeptical Trump northward so as to secure lands that will eventually be a destination from those fleeing hostile climes.)

Whatever his reasoning, whatever the reasoning or rationalizations by his supporters and enablers, the rest of the world needs to act now:

Canada needs to regard the threat as completely serious and not just bluster, in a way that goes beyond stalwart rhetoric from political leaders and clearing the shelves of bourbon. The Canadians need to be planning in response to scenarios that no one has modeled before—what if Trump directs the American military to deploy special forces and air power to seize Canadian airports and key government buildings with the goal of forcing a quick surrender while moving some ground forces to the northern border in anticipation of a longer conflict? It doesn’t matter if this is madness, because this administration has already made it clear that they’re not playing at being madmen for negotiating advantage but are in fact doing all of that self-destructive nonsense. The Canadian government and its real allies in NATO need to act now to remove the United States from all shared military and intelligence cooperation, no matter how hard that is to do in practical terms. The U.S. needs to be booted out of Five Eyes, needs to be expelled from NATO. Because now those countries have to plan as if the United States government is an enemy regime, to take all of what is being said as if it is serious. 

And us?

Americans need to plan in order to think what a war with Canada—and possibly Europe—means for the rest of their lives. Misery, deprivation, suffering, and the certain end of anything like a constitutional democracy in this country are only the immediate consequences. None of it necessary, none of it right, none of it for the better in the long or short run. . 

Burke ends by insisting that it is not yet too late for Americans--especially "people with real power in our unequal society"--to draw a line in the sand. Not on our watch. Not this time.

It may be that the sacrament of the present involves a full-scale, costly drawing of such lines.

I don't know. But the Gauguin painting and the Gospel narrative it portrays remind me that sometimes, it is OK to admit to fear, to look at what the present offers and pray that God take it away. And it is comforting, at least a little, to know that Christ suffers with us (com-passion), contemplating what it is to partake of a sacrament of sacrifice.