The Last Day

My window on the last day

This story began on April 25. It ends today - June 16. Barely eight weeks. Two lunar months. Not quite two calendar months. Fifty-three days.

Time passes. Time.

I can’t help but reflect on how artificial our assessment of time has become. My sabbatical has made me deeply aware of this. I spent weeks preparing for the “time” I would have. While I have been away, I have struggled with the whole idea of “sabbath” time. In my academic discipline of canon law, we make a distinction about time. The notion of tempus utile or “useful time” is time during which someone can be expected to act. Interestingly, this category of time is a subset of time generally. In other words, all time is not time when someone is expected to act or is held to account for a particular responsibility. Now, of course, that’s legalese ripe for use in the conduct of legal procedures, but it is helpful to understand how we may have gotten a bit off course about how we look at time in our culture and in our lives.

Especially with the arrival of 24/7 news cycles, cable TV, streaming services, social media and the like, things like “useful time” seem to have disappeared. All time, our culture seems to tell us, should be useful time. If you are not doing something useful all the time, you are wasting time. What is even worse, in an age where “multi-tasking” is a highly valued skill, if you are not doing more than one thing at a time you are wasting time and energy.

Once I arrived in Cambridge, I tried to get myself on schedule – a different one – but a schedule, nonetheless. I had my “to do lists.” I had the readings I wanted to accomplish. I had the places I wanted to visit. I wanted the experiences I wanted to “check off.”

It wasn’t until I undertook my brief pilgrimage to York Minster that I woke up to the fact that the gift of the sabbatical wasn’t merely the privilege of being away from the daily grind of my usual work – but that it was the gift of – you guessed it – time. In the great minster, it took the punishing climb of the Great Tower to awaken me to the reality that simply “getting things done” was not the purpose of my journey. I was here to awaken something deep inside me – an awareness of God’s spirit and life that had been calloused by over-use and over-work. It had become more difficult to feel God’s tenderness because the places where that touch was most often felt had grown rough and tough. They needed to be restored and renewed.

As I descended the tower, I stopped the harried pace of my tour. I sat in the mighty nave listening to the brief hourly prayer and heard that still small voice within say, “Quiten, David. It’s time for quiet.” Nearly an hour passed. I needed that hour just to recover physically to be honest. But as the enfleshed spiritual child of God I am, it was the beginning of a renewal that has now continued through the remainder of this sabbath time.

Out went to the to-do lists – though not entirely. They just took a different priority. Out went the intense scheduling – though not entirely – each day came with new opportunities. Walks in the meadows replaced the need to “be somewhere.” Coffee at Michaelhouse with one of the books I wanted to peruse, rather than the library. If I got distracted, all the better. I was awakening. God was doing God’s work. The only difference? I had finally let go – and let God (trite saying, yes, but true and necessary).

The time that passed was not totally ignored. That lovely scene outside my window was a gradual transformation – from the vibrant tulips of that late April day to the varied wildflowers of the ubiquitous English style garden – that itself a metaphor of sorts. Planted and tended, to be sure, but largely left to its natural cycles. Maybe it’s a lesson I have learned in these several days – a lesson I hope to being home and live into in the days to come.

Late yesterday those wildflowers witnessed final good-byes as students and their families, faculty, staff and these two refreshment guests celebrate the Eucharist for a final time under the "marquee" on the college lawn and in the evening twilight a bit of an informal party.

Earlier in the day, a final time together in the lecture hall presented an opportunity to address the students. There, I was able to thank them for their hospitality and for the service the provided me - to remind me that the first vocation any of us receive from God is to be a disciple - a vocation that is first and foremost in the life of every Christian and remains the most important call we receive from God. Everything else is in service to that basic and most fundamental call. 

Strange that after over 40 years of ordained life, the most powerful element of my sabbatical experience would be to remind me that regardless of any other accomplishment of a long career, the most important thing I could ever be was a disciple of Jesus - a follower of The Way. Upon reflection, just about every great saint teaches that same truth - not that I am a great saint, far from it - but the truth is self-evident. It just took me this long to remember it. By God's grace, I will never forget it.