eternal life?

 

Somewhere I read a story about a Japanese Zen nun who, for many, many years, studied diligently under a Zen master. She faithfully meditated. She worked with the koans her master gave her. She committed herself to poverty and non-violence. She begged her rice and vegetables. She loved her life and her brother monks and sister nuns. But the years went by without satori. She emptied herself but found no breakthrough, no enlightenment. This nun and her story have been on my mind quite a bit lately.

I’m so grateful for my life at Richmond Hill. What more could a Christian want to experience? Each day I wake up to join in our community prayers. Each day I have clear opportunities to deny myself and follow Jesus through bookkeeping or cleaning bathtubs or staff meetings or mentoring or shaking hands with visitors or talking about the Kingdom of God coming in Richmond. Each day I find fellowship and joy with the remarkable people that live, work, and pass through here. Even on the most frustrating and trying of days, I see the fruits of the Spirit evident in the work of all the people and prayers that make up Richmond Hill. The semi-monastic model we have here has given me the supportive framework to begin to find my way in Christ’s way. Perhaps it’s because I so love being a student: the monastery has proven a most excellent school. There is always something new to learn, and there is always something old to remember.

But there is a fundamental virtue missing from my life. I don’t really know what it is or how to find it, yet somehow I know I’m missing it. I intuitively know a little bit about what it’s like. It tastes like freedom and feels like love. It looks like hope and sounds like faith. Sometimes I call it humility. All these spirit-words are of the same cloth, anyway, aren’t they? Maybe I should call this missing piece the “eternal” or “unbreakable” life.

Jesus repeatedly tells us that his instruction, lowliness, forgiveness, and love lead to this missing element, this essential understanding. Which begs the question: if I am following Jesus, why don’t I have this? How long before I experience this? Am I experiencing it now and simply misinterpreting my life?

Let’s return to the legendary Japanese nun. One of her daily tasks was to carry water for the community. She carried it in a bamboo bucket, which she lovingly cared for and repaired through the years. One clear night she was toting some water back from the well, and as she walked she periodically peeked down to catch the reflection of the moon undulating on the surface of the water. She cherished such moments of natural beauty. All of a sudden the old bottom of the old pail gave way and out whooshed the water onto her feet. Everything stood still, and her mind and heart where set free: satori! “No more water in the pail,” she exclaimed, “no more moon in the water!”