Jim,
Time is a strange thing right now. As we celebrate your birthday, we have been sheltering in place for 7 or 8 weeks and the days kind of blur together. The weeks simultaneously fly by and seem to stretch on for eons. So the attempt to convey what it feels like for you to be 10 years old seems odd. Yet as I write this down, it feels all too appropriate. Because it seems like your first decade with us started moments ago and it also feels like you’ve always been here.
I can still remember sleeping on a hospital couch as we waited for you to be born and holding you for the first time. I can close my eyes and picture the radiant May morning when we brought you home with “Strawberry Swing” playing over the stereo and the world feeling like it was nothing but infinite possibility. And I find it hard to believe that beautiful baby boy has now hit double digits.
Yet you are 10 and we’ve seen the tell-tale signs of growing up in the last few months. You’ve gotten a little bit taller. It’s getting a little bit more difficult to heft you up to hug you like I used to. And then we gave you a quarantine buzzcut and you seemed to immediately age a couple of years in minutes. Part of me wants to pump the brakes on it. You can’t really play tug-of-war with time though I know many a parent has tried.
I believe that most of us experience an internal tug-of-war between the past and the future. In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ titular demon supervisor advises his underling Wormwood that one of best ways to keep a human from doing good is to keep them ping-ponging between those two times that are not the present. One keeps trying to recapture or reach towards moments that are mist. It can keep a person from doing something.
The quote above resonates with me because it harnesses the past and unfinished future into a catalyst that animates our present. We remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus because it means something today and compels us to presently work for the Good that is already here, but also not yet. We remember the hope and pain of the past to do something that help us take some sort of step each and every day. We realize that the hope which exists within the gospel story is not yet fully realized. Many people are still being left behind and forgotten. The realization, as the theologian Metz states, puts pressure and questions on the present.