The Bible teaches that Moses lived to be 120 years old. In Deuteronomy 34:7 we find: “Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died; his eyes were undimmed and his vigor unabated.” – pretty remarkable, wouldn’t you say?
This May, I will be celebrating my 64th birthday. If I strive to be like Moses – I will have lived more than half of my
life when I celebrate this milestone of 6.4 decades on earth. Modern medicine
notwithstanding, the odds of replicating Moses’ longevity and strength are slim
to none. Nonetheless, I’d like to think that I have a few more good years ahead
of me.
At such a liminal moment, it is
impossible not to think about two different, yet complimentary ideas: longevity
and productivity.
There are times in all our lives when
we are confronted with a realization that many, if not most of our goals,
hopes, dreams and visions no longer lie in some fuzzy future, but rather they
become the province of the past and the vision of a very real present. They can
taunt us with an unwelcome awareness of urgency – as though the lengthy path on
which we have traveled suddenly transforms – becoming increasingly rocky – our
ascent grows steeper as the summit draws near. And if we try to retrace our
steps to see how far we have come; when we comprehend how little time and space
lie in front of us, we suddenly realize that the end is now closer than the
beginning. We marvel both at how quickly
the days are passing and how often we spurned the precious hours afforded us to
complete our treasured tasks.
This morning, we come together in this
sacred place as we near the half-way point of our legislative session. We marvel at the passage of time while
simultaneously feeling the anxiety of the layers of unfinished business that
loom in front of us. In a world that all
too often demands unyielding perfection from its leaders, there is little, if
any, margin for error. Words of
condemnation come easy in political parlance.
But as hard as we are on our colleagues, we are even more merciless on
ourselves. Those who have been chosen to
serve feel the burden of answering the clarion call of the people: to make a difference; to change the
unchangeable; to fix the flaws in our laws, fate of our state and the holes in
our souls. And yet, the realities of
time and space force us to acknowledge that we cannot complete every task.
And so we pray:
Dear God, You created us with imperfections. Watch over all who serve in this
chamber: the legislators and the
lawyers, the captains and clerks; the interns and the innovators. Give them both the strength to pursue the
task of governance, and the patience to accept that there is always more to
accomplish than is humanly possible.
Protect the souls of your servants who are exposed to the harshness to
human expectation. Help them to support
one another –even in the heat of debate and disagreement. Let any conflict that arises be for the sake
of the greater good and teach us to quickly forgive and forget the sting of
slogans and slights that are thrown about in the messy process of crafting legislation. As the end of this session looms ever larger
in the forefront of our consciousness, may every person here become reconciled
to the sacred necessity for compromise and communion.
We thank You for the ability to make
a difference. We see You in the passion
of our colleagues. We seek Your presence
in our daily lives. AMEN
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