“Relating to Time”
the Rev. Bruce Russell-Jayne, September 23,2007

“Body” time versus “clock” time. Can time - work in different ways – at the same time? It seems “how time works” can make a huge difference in our lives. Recently, as Cece and I transitioned from life in northern Utah to the Northern Hills of Cincinnati, I experienced time in several different ways. It was a time of great change.

I was an Interim Minister in Ogden; therefore, people knew all along we would leave, which made for a long good-bye. Last spring, when our departure drew near, my daily life seemed to slow down; people began to distance. We knew we had no future there – and it was still hard to think about our future in another place, with people we barely knew, yet.

Then, our last couple of weeks there, my daily routine of church work ended. Time speeded up. Cece left her job and all our days became focused on one big project – pack. Pack anything in front of you – move to another room and pack something there. We were disengaged from the outside world except for the store where we could buy more boxes and stretch wrap. We worked until we were exhausted (physically) almost every day. We broke from work only to go to farewell lunches and dinners. I was sad about letting go of people in my congregation. I felt cast adrift.
After this intense period came the long trip across the country. We drove thru Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana to Ohio. Our daily routine became – pack 2 cats into 2 cars; drive all day – taking in the scenery and chatting on the two-way radios; then move cats and us into another motel; maybe go for a swim – just us, not the cats. We chose to drive reasonable days – 8 hours or so versus 10 or 12; so this routine lasted for a week. Time was relatively easy – no deadlines, but we thought about time frequently. With the world hermetically sealed out of our little car cabins time equaled miles we had driven or miles until we would stop driving. While the landscape changed constantly clock time provided a semblance of order. (It’s noon – let’s look for an Arby’s!)

After a visit with our grandchildren in Indiana we were so excited to arrive at our new home, 910 Oregon Trail. The next week was so sweet in our house, even though we had no furnishings, and we were not yet oriented to our surroundings. Do you know how it is when you first stay in a new place, when you don’t know which way to turn (literally to go to the bathroom, even.) We slept more, relaxed on the back deck eating ice cream and staring out into the dark, delighted with fireflies. We fretted a bit at first but then were so happy to see Hermes and Cleo catting around in their new digs. We had time to explore our fair city. Again, clock time became less important. We just did something for awhile, and then we did something else, with nothing in particular to organize our day.

Then the movers arrived which kicked off “unpacking frenzy week.” It was a lot like packing week but with the added feeling of Christmas – opening packages of “our stuff.” Once again, time went into another gear.
These alternating periods of time slowing down then speeding up, slowing down and speeding up, left my sense of time a bit discombobulated. I often didn’t know what day it was. I was nice to be free of the hectic pace of church for awhile, a good break from normal. It gave me a chance to reflect on my last ministry and on my new life and home. However, when it came time to write my first sermon for Northern Hills, after weeks of free floating in time, it took a great effort to break out of that and work. But, beginning a weekly routine helped me recompose my fractured sense of time and place. I have myself back together now, but, there are still decisions to be made as to how I should spend my time.

This summer, it seemed I had little control of my life at times. When it was time to go, I had to go. Time sped up or slowed down, not because I wanted it to, but because of my life’s circumstances. One day, Cece got a stomach ache and had to lie in bed. That day, her life could not include the things she had planned. I, in turn, had to stay close in case she needed something. Neither of us had the power to make our day go the way we wanted. Our time was not our own.

It’s hard for me to give up control of my time. Once I have planned my day, I sometimes have difficulty changing my schedule especially when someone else causes the change. It has taken me years to learn patience around that issue. In order to keep from getting upset, I had to accept that time is really not my own.

Also, I have trouble when there is just too much to do in a 24 hour day. When I end up with piles in my inbox and a long list of home projects and meetings scheduled on top of each other, it’s hard to deal. Days and weeks with too many things in them make me feel fragmented, like my life is coming apart. When I have too little control of my time, I can feel afraid, like I might lose my self in all the hullabaloo.

When time has been moving too fast, sometimes I just have to slow it down, to get off the treadmill and get myself back together again. The slow time Cece and I had this summer was really nice; it helped us regroup. We needed to stop, grieve the losses involved with leaving places and loved ones and acknowledge a new phase in our lives was beginning. Sometimes we need a day or two off for our mental health, to let our body time catch up with the rest of our lives. When things are changing fast, when we are coming apart at the seams, remembering where we have been and who we really are can help make us feel whole again.
:::
This Summer has been a time of great change for Cece and me and also for Northern Hills Fellowship. We were, and probably still are, in a liminal state. The root of the word “Liminal” is “Limen” which means threshold. We are at “a point where one perception or condition blends or crosses over into another” It is a time of opportunity – crossing over into a new situation offers people a chance to participate in something different and in so doing to change themselves, to renew themselves. Thresholds can also be ominous; stepping off into new territory involves risk. Fear of change can make us reluctant to move on. It matters how we think about and approach change.
Listen to this Poem:
The Future
by Wesley McNair
On the afternoon talk shows of America
the guests have suffered life's sorrows
long enough. All they require now
is the opportunity for closure,
to put the whole thing behind them
and get on with their lives. That their lives,
in fact, are getting on with them even
as they announce their requirement
is written on the faces of the younger ones
wrinkling their brows, and the skin
of their elders collecting just under their
set chins. It’s not easy to escape the past,
but who wouldn't want to live in a future
where the worst has already happened
and Americans can finally relax after daring
to demand a different way? For the rest of us,
the future, barring variations, turns out
to be not so different from the present
where we have always lived—the same
struggle of wishes and losses, and hope,
that old lieutenant, picking us up
every so often to dust us off and adjust
our helmets. Adjustment, for that matter,
may be the one lesson hope has to give,
serving us best when we begin to find
what we didn't know we wanted in what
the future brings. Nobody would have asked
for the ice storm that takes down trees
and knocks the power out, leaving nothing
but two buckets of snow melting
on the wood stove and candlelight so weak,
the old man sitting at the kitchen table
can hardly see to play cards. Yet how else
but by the old woman's laughter
when he mistakes a jack for a queen
would he look at her face in the half-light as if
for the first time while the kitchen around them
and the very cards he holds in his hands
disappear? In the deep moment of his looking
and her looking back, there is no future,
only right now, all, anyway, each one of us
has ever had, and all the two of them,
sitting together in the dark among the cracked
notes of the snow thawing beside them
on the stove, right now will ever need.

Closure has become a buzz word now days. You hear on the news all the time that people who have had a loss are looking for Closure. The way to move on in our lives is not “Closure.” Last weekend, several of us attended a workshop with Nancy Combs-Morgan, our Heartland District Executive in which we talked about the history of Northern Hills Fellowship which helped me quickly learn some of the important events in the church’s past. I would like to hear more, and welcome any stories you want to tell me. My goal, our goal in doing this is not to get by our past nor to shut the door on it. Rather it is to help us put some perspective on it as we move on.
:::
Time is far from being an absolute; the way we relate to time is a choice. One’s attitude toward time is really a theological issue, and in Unitarian Universalism, we get to choose here, too. All religions deal with the great questions of life – How did we get here? Why are we here? What happens when we die? And so on. To answer that “How did we get here?” question, a comprehensive theology must include a story of the beginning of life, a theory on the origin and structure of the universe, and where is it headed, a cosmology. Cosmologies describe the beginning and ending of time, and how time works in between. The purpose of a cosmology is not to satisfy our intellectual curiosity about how the stars were made or how long they will go on past our death. Cosmologies are meant to help us know where we fit in to the scheme of things so we can feel whole and connected to the web of life.

Last Tuesday I was glad to go to my first meeting of area ministers at Wyoming Baptist Church. They were really nice folks. We talked about things our churches could do together such as collect food for Valley Interfaith Food and Clothing and they suggested we go on a field trip. In past years they had visited the library at Hebrew Union College and the Underground Railroad Museum – probably at Morris’s behest. I would be interested in either of those. Then someone suggested the Creation Museum, and several talked quite excitedly about it. I was not one of them. The Creation Museum is based on a rigid concept of time brought about by a literal interpretation of the Bible’s creation story. That approach just doesn’t work for me. If Creationism doesn’t work for you, just let it go and find a cosmology that does.

What does work for me is a philosophy that ties my personal time line and those of the people I know into the larger picture. It can be scientifically proven or totally mythological and beautifully imaginative. I appreciate any story that can help me feel grounded, that can let me see the oak in the acorn and the acorn in the oak in true relationship.
In Living Buddha, Living Christ, Thich Nhat Hanh talks about how the historical lives of Buddha and Jesus are different from the Buddha or Christ who can live on inside our minds. Their teachings on suffering and love, courage and justice, transcend time. Their teachings, indeed their very essences can be available to us at any time, right when we need them.

Our philosophy of relating to time has implications for our lives every day of our lives. Even Einstein couldn’t tell us exactly how time works or what’s the best way to think about it but that doesn’t relieve us of the responsibility for finding a concept of time that helps us stay present to our own lives no matter what’s going on around us. Any time and all the time is when we need our philosophy of time. I encourage you to have a little fun while trying on some different ideas about how time might work for you.
So might this be.