旅人との付き合い

『明るい窓』（病院職員ニュースレター）９月号

チャプレンからのメッセージ

「病院」というのはそもそも教会から生れたものである。４世紀から盛んに芽生えていく修道院がその発祥となる。慌ただしくて貪欲に満ちた世間から退き、厳しい修行と絶えない祈りをとおして自らの心を清め神に向け直し、イエスさまの模範に倣っていくのが修道院の本来の目的であった。

しかし、早くから旅人に対するホスピタリティにも心を配るようになったようである。「旅人をもてなすことを忘れてはいけない。そうすることで、気づかずに天使たちをもてなした人たちもいる」（ヘブライ13:2）という聖書のみ言葉をきちんと受け止め、修道院に足を運ぶ人一人一人へのもてなしを神聖な責任として励んでいたのである。

しかも当然、旅人は色々な状況でやってくる。旅路で追いはぎに襲われたり、体調を崩したり、怪我したりする旅人への接遇は、必然としてあらゆる手当ても含まれる。こういうケアも最初から崇高な務めとして見なされた。最古の修道会の創立者である聖ベネディクトが作った戒律に次の文章がある：「病人のケアはどんな仕事よりも優先させるべきである。病人に仕えるのは、キリストご自身に仕えることの如き」（36章）。

こういう流れの中で、修道院はどんどん医学的知識を高めていき、たまたま現われる旅人だけでなく、治療を求めに来る人も増えていく。今日世界中、教会によって病院が建てられているのも、こういう歴史に端を発しているわけである。

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数年、乳がん発覚当初からその寛解まで時々会って話を聞かせてくれる患者さんに、先日、またお会いした。最近の定期検診で「またか」と疑われるような要素が出てきてしまって、精密検査の結果待ちで不安でしょうがない、という内容を涙ながら話してくれた。そこで彼女は「祈ってほしい」と僕に頼んだ。

一瞬戸惑う。医療者でない僕は、「再発か」と思うとちょっと動揺する。現状からあまりに離れたような祈りをしたくない。が、しかし、神の助けを頼りにしようとしている患者さんの思いに合わせるのも大事なことだと思う。「どうか、結果がすべて陰性でありますように」、とためらいがちに祈ったら、向こうの表情が若干安堵したように見える。

またその数日後、彼女は僕のオフィスに寄って来た。「再発してない」という一言の吉報をもたらしてくれたのである。

チャプレン室の真ん中に立っている二人の収まらない笑顔と長い、長い無言の握手．．．

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僕にとって、聖路加における仕事の多くの喜びの中の一つは、こういった「人生の旅」をしている人との付き合いができることである。

本来、何のつながりもなかったはずの人と出会い、人生の最も重要な場面にところどころ立ち会えることは、不思議で仕方がない。ずっと旅路に付き添っているわけではなくて、時折会って、不安も望みも、喜びも悲しみも分かち合えるのが大きな恵みに感じる。

こういう付き合いを神聖な責任として受け止めて、励んでいきたいと思う。

finding grace somehow

I can't remember my last day off. The hospital is like a game of musical chairs on acid sometimes. (Not that I'd ever admit to ever playing such a game...)

I just came off a weekend of three back-to-back three funerals and a wedding, sandwiching the normal Sunday celebration. Pretty wiped out by the whole barrage. But somehow I found something meaningful to say to the grieving families. Somehow I could offer some solace and support. Somehow no one went careening off the rails of healthy grieving.

In my Sunday sermon I suggested that the widow who put her last two dimes into the collection plate was actually a dupe, conned by the self-righteous scribes, like some old biddy signing over her welfare check to a slick televangelist.

But her heart was in the right place. And guess who happened to be observing her every move? Talk about love.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a mite short of two mites. But somehow, God takes the negligible little bits that I have to offer, and adds His limitless grace to it, and it comes out all right. Somehow.

Come to think of it,
there may be a slight
resemblance...

love lies in wait

St. Luke's Hospital Chapel News message (translated from the Japanese)

A student at the nursing college recently told me of a unusual experience she had. Because of a tragic loss she suffered, she said, for nearly ten years she was "anti-God"—angry at God for letting this horrible thing happen. So it was with a great deal of resentment and hurt bottled up inside that she took part in the commencement service in the chapel in April. "I'm out of place here," she recalls thinking.

But as soon as she sat down in the chapel seat, she felt as if a great weight was suddenly lifted from her. All the bitter feelings she had been carrying for years dissipated in a moment, and she was left surprised and thankful. She knew then that she had been brought to St. Luke's for a reason.
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I met an elderly woman in the hospice ward last month. She seemed to shine whenever I visited her. I always left gladdened by our time together.

This woman lost most of her hearing when she was about 30 years old due to an illness. But she came to view the illness as "a gift from God": She said that it was in the acknowledgement of her own frailty that she was led to see God's kindness and mercy.

For 50 years, she walked joyfully with the Lord Jesus. Her very last words were "I'm happy" and "I'm so grateful".
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The Holy Spirit who descended at Pentecost still comes, often in less dramatic ways. I recall my own "quiet Pentecost," sitting on a promontory in Kamakura looking out over the ocean—it was on that late afternoon that a small ray of hope and joy penetrated the long, dark winter of my soul. I couldn't know at the time that, from that point, my whole life would be forever changed.

It's as if God is laying in wait for us, always ready to reach out, to bring us healing and comfort and courage. God looks out for any opportunity to turn our hearts back to Him.

We need not speak with other tongues like the first disciples did. But let us not be shy in "declaring the mighty works of God" (Acts 2:12) in our own lives and in this community.

英語のメモリアルレターの手引き

Writing a Condolence Letter in English

７つの要素：
1. 損失について触れて、亡くなった方の名前を使う。
2. シンパシーを表わす。
3. 何か故人の特徴を描く。
4. 自分と故人との思い出、残っている印象などを述べる。
5. 遺族の方の強いところや支えになりそうなところを言う。
6. サポートを申し出る（具体的）
7. 最後に望み・願いなどを表わす。

Sincerelyはビジネスライクなのでやめましょう。

サンプル：

Dear ____________,
1. 損失について触れて、亡くなった方の名前を使う。
It has been several weeks (almost a month, etc.) since the loss of your husband, John. I am writing to see how you are doing.
2. シンパシーを表わす。
I know this must be a very difficult time for you. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.
3. 何か故人の特徴を描く。
John was such a kind, positive person. I was so impressed with how cheerfully he interacted with everyone who came to visit him in the hospital. 
4. 自分と故人との思い出、残っている印象などを述べる。
I remember one time John _________________.
5. 遺族の方の強いところや支えになりそうなところを言う。
I know how much you will miss John. I encourage you to draw on your strength and the strength of your family. I was impressed with the warmth and courage you and your family showed while John was in the hospital. 
6. サポートを申し出る（具体的）
If you ever need to talk to someone, please don't hesitate to get in touch with me at the hospital.
7. 最後に望み・願いなどを表わす。
May God bless you and your family during this time and always,
もしくは
I hope that the days ahead will be filled with peace and comfort,
Kevin Seaver,
Chaplain, St. Luke's International Hospital

bones of contention

In Japan, you must never, ever, I mean ever, pass a piece of food directly from your chopsticks to someone else's chopsticks. To do so is about on par with throwing up into your rice bowl. Maybe worse.

And this is so very awful because when a person dies in Japan and is cremated, the relatives pair up and use special, long chopsticks to transfer bone pieces into the urn. This process is called "hashi watashi," which means "chopstick passing".

So to do a chopstick handoff at the dinner table is basically to fling open the doors of the underworld and invite every sort of nameless ghoulish horror to invade your household.

Try it sometime when dining with Japanese people, and see the reaction you get!
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I've been to the crematorium so often lately that even the guys who work there are looking at me askance. Like, you know, maybe I'm doing something to speed along people's passage to the Great Beyond or something.

But several times recently they've also asked me how they should handle the urn packing process. They want to know if it's okay to do "hashi watashi" in pairs, or should they have each person do it on his own.

At first I was confused about why they were asking. But then I learned that in some "Christian" cremations they don't do "hashi watashi" in pairs.

Now, I have given thought to the theological question of cremation versus interment of the body. But since cremation is mandatory under Japanese law, I figure Ezekiel gives sufficient reason not to worry that dry bones are going to present some sort of major obstacle to God's resurrection plans.

But why on earth would some Christian clergymen object to people pairing up to move bone fragments?

It turns out that "hashi watashi" can also mean "bridge crossing" ("chopsticks" and "bridge" are both "hashi," albeit with different kanji).

So, the idea is that the mourners are helping their loved one to cross over the river which, in Buddhist mythology, separates this world from the next (a lot like Acheron in Greek mythology).

There's also the sense that if the dead person's spirit wants to come back and visit great unpleasantness on you, it's better to team up. Going 50-50 on the haunting, as it were.

So I guess that some Christian ministers don't want to lend credence to quasi-Buddhist mythology. (It kind of reminds me of Blake's "priests in black gowns walking their rounds".)

But it seems to me that, first, on the scale ranging from "explicitly religious expression" to "vaguely understood cultural practice," "hashi watashi" is pretty far over on the cultural side.

Second, at this moment of final farewell, I can see some small value in coming together to transfer a part of the person who has died into the urn that will house their remains. A grief shared, as it were.

Or, if not much value, at least not much harm in this practice.

So I've been giving the green light to the "hashi watashi".

But thanks for asking, guys, I guess.

And, honest, I had nothing to do with the recent spate of deaths...

one year ago

A Joint Service of Remembrance and Prayer for Rebuilding on the One-Year Anniversary of the Great East Japan Earthquake (with Tsukiji Catholic Church)
St. Luke's International Hospital Chapel, March 11, 2012, 2:30 p.m.

(tower bell is rung for about one minute at 2:46 p.m., the time of the earthquake)

One year ago, on a Friday afternoon at 2:46, the most powerful earthquake in Japan's history struck off the coast in Fukushima.

The images from that time are probably fresh in all our minds. The damage caused by the earthquake and tsunami and radioactive pollution from the nuclear power plant accident was enormous in scale. At present, official figures show more than 15,000 dead and more than 3,000 still missing.

"Still." I think that's a key word. We must remember that many, many families are even now still searching for their loved ones. Many still haven't gone home. Many are still grieving deeply. Many are still completely in the dark about what the future holds.
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We live in a world where great suffering occurs. One Catholic prayer (Salve Regina) describes this world as a "vale of tears"

In the face of this suffering, we may often, like Job, want to ask "why?" But unfortunately, no matter how much we ask, I don't think any answers we might find will be very satisfying.

To be sure, maybe 80% of the suffering in the world is caused directly or indirectly by human sin and violence and ignorance and greed. But that still leaves things like 3/11.

The Bible talks about the Fall. In other words, the original sin of Adam and Eve. This caused a cataclysmic disaster, causing the original goodness of the world to be lost. As a result, the possibility of all misfortunes, things like 3/11 and 9/11 and sick children and war, came into the world.

I believe that. But I have to say, as an explanation it's not very satisfying. And I reckon it doesn't do a lot to bring comfort or hope to people in the midst of suffering. The fact is, we just don't really know why some people suffer greatly and some people don't.

What we do know is this: Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Nothing can separate us from the love of God.

One of the reasons what happened on 3/11 was so terrifying was its unprecedented scale. But, one way or another, each of us is going to have to face something similar one day. We will all of us, without exception, lose our loved ones, our homes, our lives. Eventually, death will separate us from all that we hold dear.

But not from God. Nothing can separate us from the love of God.
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On another Friday afternoon, a Friday afternoon 2,000 years ago, the tragedy of the world's evil rushed in and swallowed up Jesus Christ. Christ, too, lost everything. Friends, family, dreams, life itself, all stripped away from Him, in the blink of an eye.

But nothing can separate us from the love of God.

The true God is Lord of the living and of the dead. He has the power to bring light into darkness, and life into death. With God, no one goes missing.

And His love is far stronger than all the world's earthquakes combined.

Let us trust God's promise that nothing can separate us from His love.

And let us ask His mercy for all who died in last year's tragedy, all who were impacted, all who even now live in uncertainty.

一年前

東日本大震災一周年にあたり追悼と再生を願う合同祈祷集会
聖路加国際病院　聖ルカ礼拝堂　２０１２年３月１１日　２時半

（ちょうど２時４６分、塔の鐘を約１分鳴らす）

ちょうど一年前、金曜日の午後、２時４６分、この国の史上最大の地震が東北地方の沖に発生しました。

その時からのイメージがおそらく記憶に新しいと思います。地震や津波、そして原発事故による大量の放射能汚染が及ぼした被害のスケールはとてつもないものでした。今現在の統計によれば、１万５千人以上の死者と未だに３千人以上行方不明者が出た、と言われています。

「未だに」というのは一つのキーワードだと思います。未だに多くの家族がその愛する人を捜し続けている。未だに家に帰られていない人が大勢いる。未だに深い悲しみに陥っている人も大勢いる。未だに将来に対して途方に暮れている人も大勢いることを覚えなければならないかと思います。
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わたしたちが住んでいるこの世界では、このような大きな苦しみがあります。あるカトリックの祈り（Salve Regina）では、この世を「涙の谷」と呼ぶことがあります。

こういう世の中の苦しみを前にして、ヨブと同じように「なぜ？」という問いを投げかけたくなるときは多々ありますが、残念ながら、いくら問い掛けても満足できるような答えはなかなか出て来ないのではないかと思います。

確かに、世界中の苦しみの８割ぐらいは、直接あるいは間接的に人間の罪や暴力や無知や欲張りによって生じるものだと言えましょう。それでも、３・１１のようなことはやはり起こります。

聖書には「堕落・堕罪」という話があります。つまり、アダムとエバが犯した「原罪」の話です。これによって一大異変が発生して、世界の本来の姿が失われた、という話です。その結果として、すべての災い、３・１１も９・１１も子供の病気も戦争など、すべての災いの可能性が世の中に入ってきたわけだという話です。

わたしはそれを信じていますけれども、正直に言えば、あまり満足できる説明になっていないと思っています。しかも、苦しみの只中にいる人にとって、あまり希望や慰めをもたらす説明ではない気がします。

結局は、どうしてあの人が大いに苦しみ、この人があまり苦しまないかということに関して、よく分からないとしか言いようがないと思います。

でもこれだけが分かっています：神の愛からわたしたちを引き離せることは何一つない、ということです（ローマ8:39）。神の愛からわたしたちを引き離せることは何一つない。

３・１１の最も恐ろしいところの一つは、そのかつてないスケールです。でも、いつかは、似ているようなことがわたしたち一人一人の身にも起こるります。例外なく、わたしたち全員は、愛する人、家、命そのものを失ってしまう日を迎えます。

最終的には、死がわたしたちをすべていとしく思うことから引き離してしまいます。

でも神は違います。神の愛からわたしたちを引き離せることは何一つないのです。
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別の金曜日の午後、２，０００年前の金曜日の午後、この世の悪の災いがイエス・キリストを襲って彼を飲み込んでしまいました。キリストもすべてを失われたのです。友人も、家族も、夢も、命も、一瞬にしてすべてがイエスから奪い取られたのです。ところが、神の愛からわたしたちを引き離せることは何一つありません。

まことの神は生きている人と死んだ人の主です。暗闇の只中に光を、死の只中に命をもたらすことがおできになる神です。神にとって、行方不明という人なんていません。

そして神の愛は、史上のすべての震災を一緒にしても、それよりもはるかに強いものです。

「わたしの愛からきみたちを引き離せることはないよ」という神の約束を信頼しましょう。そして、去年の大きな悲劇によって犠牲になった人々、被害を受けた人々、今でも不安定な生活を余儀なく送っている人々のために、神の慈愛を願い求めたいと思います。

believing in hope against all hope (Genesis 22:1-14)

Second Sunday in Lent (Year B)
St. Luke's International Hospital Chapel March 4, 2012– 10:30 a.m. Holy Eucharist

I think the story of the near-sacrifice of Isaac is one of the most terrifying stories ever recorded. Maybe it's possible, if you read really fast and don't pay much attention, to come away from this story without being bothered by it. But if you stop, and really read between the lines, using your imagination, what you'll probably find is that the more you meditate on this story the more unbearable it becomes.

For example notice how God says: "Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac" (Gen 22:2). He repeats the same thing, so there's absolutely no way Abraham can pretend to misunderstand whom God is talking about.

And God says the name of Isaac, which means "laughter." Isaac was a miracle child, a gift from heaven to Abraham and Sarah late in life. He was their heart's joy. Even as God says his name, He says "sacrifice him." Kill the laughter Isaac brings you.

"Early the next morning Abraham got up and loaded his donkey" (Gen 22:3). The next morning. Can you imagine the night Abraham must have spent? Knowing what he's been asked to do by God? Not able to say anything to anyone about it?

And notice also, it took three days to travel to Mount Moriah. Three days. Imagine what that trip was like for Abraham. In the evening, as he watched Isaac sleeping by the fire. When Isaac wanted to talk to his father about the new things he was seeing along the way.

And finally, imagine the unbearable sadness of Abraham as he "bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood" (Gen 22:9). He did that probably to keep Isaac from fighting back when he realized what was going on. So it would be over quickly.

So here, in verse 11, when the angel calls out, "Abraham! Abraham!" I want you to try to hear Abraham's voice, imagine what was in his heart at that moment:
  "Here I am."
 
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Ah, it's an awful, awful story! If this was a movie in the video store, I wouldn't rent it. If it weren't in the Bible, I wouldn't read it. Thank God it has a happy ending!

But why on earth would Abraham even think about doing such a thing in the first place? Why would he agree to sacrifice his own son? I want to think about the reason.

And the first thing to say is, Abraham knew this one thing: That YHWH is the one, true God.

To acknowledge that God is really God is to acknowledge that whatever God says is, by definition, right. Whatever God asks of us has a rightful claim on our obedience. Because He's God. Let's get this straight: With God, there just isn't such thing as an "ought not"—as in "God ought not ask me to do such and such."

God never makes bad decisions. His judgment is never off, not even by a little.

So, however unjust something may seem to us small, time- and culture-bound, bent-hearted human beings, that's simply not our call to make. Do you remember the story of Job? Job tried to call "Unfair! Unjust!" And do you remember God's response? His response was: Who do you think you are? Where were you when I created, you know, the cosmos?

This is why we have to take modern "ethics" with a huge grain of salt. The weakness in ethics is that the people who think about ethics never see far enough, never grasp enough of the situation, never have pure enough motives. They simply can't. So, what happens so often is that we end up using "ethical principles" as a fancy way to justify what we've already decided to do.

From an article I read yesterday: "An ethicist's job is like a magician's. The main job of both is to distract you from the obvious." Ethics can so easily become a way of saying "it's okay" to do what you want, while at the same time avoiding responsibility for your actions.

Look at Abraham's ethical dilemma: Should I sacrifice my son, or not? Hmm, let me weigh the advantages and disadvantages…

No. It doesn't work. God's revealed will smashes through all our ethical manoeuvering. To do God's will, that's all that is required of us. "Take your son, your only son…"

To be fair, ethical reasoning may be useful in cases where the will of God is not clear in a particular situation. Such as many end-of-life care decisions.

But the fact is, God's will is more than clear in a lot of cases when we wish it weren't:

• Is it okay to steal money from my company? No.
• Is it all right to sleep with my married co-worker? No.
• Is it okay to have sex before or outside of marriage period? No.
• Is it okay to fantasize about punching the rude commuter in the nose? No.
• Is it okay to lie to make someone feel good? No.
• Do I have to stay married to my husband, if there's no infidelity or abuse? Yes.
• Do I have to protect all life in the womb? Yes.
• Do I have to take care of my elderly mother even if she's a pain in the neck? Yes.
• Do I have to forgive my sister-in-law? Yes.

 
All these things are clearly dealt with in Scripture. We know God's will concerning these things. So we don't need to deliberate or weigh the pros and cons. Our only dilemma is: do we obey God's will, or do we disobey God's will?
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But Abraham knows one more thing: "God himself will provide the lamb" (Gen 22:8) How can he say this?

When Abraham was already an old man, childless with his wife Sarah, God said to him: "I have made you a father of many nations" (Gen. 17:5). God told him that through his son, his child with Sarah, would come as many offspring as there are stars in the sky.

This is the promise God made to Abraham. At first, Abraham found it all pretty hard to swallow. A child? Born to a 100-year-old man and a 90-year-old wife? But a year later, behold! Isaac was born. The promise was fulfilled.

Abraham knows that God keeps His promises. God has promised "many nations" through his son, Isaac. And God always keeps His promises.

At times, God may seem to demand a lot from us, even things that seem at the time impossible to bear. But God will never mess around with us, and God will never ask us to do something meaningless.

Of course, Abraham doesn't know how things will turn out, exactly. We always want to know how the future will turn out, but frankly, that's far above our pay grade. (So, all this hype about the Mayan calendar is just a load of stuff!)

Abraham's trust in God must have been pushed to the very limits as he took the blade in his hand. Pushed, and yet he did not lose his hope in God. He continued to hope in the one, true God. The Lord of the living and of the dead. The God who always keeps His promises.

This is why Abraham is called "the father of our faith" (Rom 4:16). As St. Paul writes:
"Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ['I have made you a father of many nations' (Gen. 17:5)]" (Romans 4:18)

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews puts it this way:
"By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had embraced the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, 'It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.' [Gen 21:12] Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death." (Hebrews 11:17)
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There is another, terrible story about a "son," a "beloved only son." The child in this story, too, is chosen to become a sacrifice.

This child, too, is prepared to be sacrificed on wood. He is made to bear the weight of the wood. He carries it, not to the top of a mountain called Moriah, but to the top of a hill called Golgotha.

The child in this story, however, is not led in ignorance to the place of his sacrifice, but goes there willingly, in obedience to the will of God.

In this story, no angel stops the metal before it pierces the child's flesh. There is no last-minute reprieve. The sacrifice is carried out. The child dies.

Even more than Abraham, Christ withheld nothing, not even His own life. He continued to hope in God to the very end.
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And God keeps His promises. He is Lord of the living and the dead. He never asks of us something that is finally unjust. Just as with Abraham, God kept His promise to Jesus. More on that at Easter!

So, to trust God, to keep our hope fixed on God, is always the smart choice. And not to trust God, to place our ultimate hope on anything else, is always the foolish choice.

It's a paradox, but I think this is what Jesus is getting at when He says: "whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it" (Mark 8:35)

In other words, whoever would insist on deciding when and where and how much to obey the will of God will end up severing his connection with God, and render himself unable to receive life from God.

But, whoever puts himself in God's hands, come what may, knowing that God is a good, loving God who always keeps His promises, will receive fellowship with God--which is eternal life itself.

This is what it means to have faith. Even as we struggle with doubts and hardships, it is to keep putting our whole trust and hope in a loving God who never breaks a promise.

The Lord will provide. Abraham trusted that the Lord would provide for him, and he was not disappointed. Jesus trusted that the Lord would provided for Him, and He was not disappointed.

The Lord will provide for us what we really need. Let us trust Him with our lives.

なおも望みを抱いて（創世記 22:1-14）

大斎節第２主日（Ｂ年）
聖路加国際病院聖ルカ礼拝堂　２０１２年３月４日・１０時３０分　聖餐式

このイサクが捧げられる話は、史上最も恐ろしいストーリーの一つだと思います。もしかしたらあまり集中しないでこれを早く読めば、悩まされないかもしれません。でもちゃんと読んで、想像力を使いながら行間も読んだら、たぶん読めば読むほど耐え難くなってくるのではないかと思います。

例えば、アブラハムはこういうことを神に言われます：「あなたの息子、あなたの愛する独り子イサク」（創世記22:2）――同じようなことを繰り返している感じです。これは、アブラハムが誰の話しか誤解したり、わざと勘違いして逃げたりすることができないように、そうなっていると思います。

しかも神は「イサク」という名前を使われます。「笑い」という意味です。イサクはミラクルベビーでした。年老いたアブラハムとサラへの天からの贈り物。彼らの心の喜びでした。神は「イサク」「笑い」と言いながら、その子を「献げ物としてささげなさい」と仰っているわけです。イサクがもたらしてくれる笑いを死なせなさい、ということ。

「次の朝早く、アブラハムはろばに鞍を置いた」（創世記22:3）。次の朝。アブラハムはどのような夜を過ごしたでしょう。何が求められているかを知っていて、何も誰にも言えない、その心の苦しさ。

そして、気づきましたか？モリヤ山まで三日間かかったということに。三日間。アブラハムにとって、どういう旅だったでしょう。夜、たき火のそばで寝ている息子を眺めながら。旅路で見たいろんな新しいことについてお父さんと話したがるイサクとともに進みながら．．．

そして最後に、自分の「息子イサクを縛って祭壇の薪の上に載せた」（創世記22:10）ときの耐え切れない切なさ。これはきっと、やっと何が起こっているのかに気づく息子が抵抗しないように、すぐに終わらせられるように、そうしたのではないかと思います。

だから、この１１節、天使が「アブラハム！アブラハム！」と必死に呼びかけたときのアブラハムの返事は、どういう声で、どういう心境で言ったのか、想像してみてください：
　　「はい。」＋　　　＋　　　＋
ああ、怖い！恐ろしい話です。これはビデオ屋さんの映画だったら絶対借りません。聖書以外の本だったら読みません。ハッピーエンドでよかったですね！

でもそもそもアブラハムは、なぜこういうことをしようと思ったのか。なぜ自分のいとしい息子を捧げ物にすることを承諾したのか、そのわけについて考えたいと思います。まず、言っておかなければならないことは、アブラハムには、一つのことがはっきり分かったからだと思います。すなわち、ヤハウェが唯一のまことの神であられる、ということです。
神が本当に神であると認めるというのは、定義からして、その仰ることがすべて正しい、というのをも認めることです。神がお求めになることならば、人は当然それに従うべきです。神ですから。これは、はっきりさせたいところです。神の場合は、「してはいけない」ことは何一つない、ということです。「神はそういうことを求めてはいけない」という話はあり得ない、ということです。

神は誤った判断を一切なさらないのです。物事を見誤ることはないのです。少しでも。

だから、わたしたち小さくて、時代や文化に大いに影響され、心の歪めた人間の目から見て「不条理、理不尽」だと思っていても、実はわたしたちの決めることではないわけです。ヨブの話を覚えていますか？ヨブは訴えてみました：「不正！理不尽！」そして神の答えは？お前、何様だと思っているのか？わたしがこの宇宙全体を創造したとき、お前はどこにいたのか？レベルは全然違うのです。

こういうわけで「倫理学」というものを割り引いて捉えないといけません。倫理の弱いところは、倫理を考える人が十分物事を把握していない、その視野は十分広くない、十分客観的に検討していない――というか、それができないのです。だから結果として、いわゆる「倫理原則」をうまく使って、最初から自分で決めたことを正当化してしまうことになることはしばしば起こります。

昨日読んだある記事にこういう言葉がありました：「倫理学者と手品師の仕事は似ている。いずれも、おもな仕事は当たり前のことから目をそらすことだ」と。倫理は、したいことを「していいよ」と訴えつつ、かつその責任を取らない方法になりがちなのです。

アブラハムの倫理的ジレンマを見てみましょう。息子を捧げ物にべきかどうか。うーん、どうかなあ。そのメリット・デメリットを考えましょう．．．

やはり無理です！そういう問題ではありません。神の示されたご意思は、人間のさまざまな倫理的工作を突き破ってしまいます。み心に従うかどうか、それだけが問われます。「あなたの息子、あなたの愛する独り子イサクを連れて」、と。

しかしながら、神のご意思が十分明確でない場合は、倫理は役に立つかもしれません（例えば終末期のケアに関するさまざまな決定）。でも実を言いますと、もうちょっと曖昧であってほしいところに、神のご意思が十二分明確に示されている場合が多いと思います。例えば：

• 会社からお金をつまみ食いしていいのか？だめです。
• 結婚している同僚と寝ていいのか？だめです。
• 結婚する前、または結婚外の肉体的関係を結んでいいのか？だめです。
• 通勤電車の人をパンチするところを空想していいのか？だめです。
• 人の気持ちを盛り上げるために嘘をついていいのか？だめです。
• 不倫とか暴力がない場合、夫婦を続けなければならないのか？その通り。
• 胎内の命を守らなければならないのか？その通り。
• 面倒くさくても年上の父親の世話をしなければならないのか？その通り。
• 兄嫁を赦さなければならないのか？その通り。

これらのことは全部、聖書で明確に取り上げられているものです。これらについて、神のみ心が分かっています。良く考えようとか、メリット・デメリットを検討する必要は全くありません。わたしたちの唯一のジレンマはこれです：み心に従うか、それかみ心に逆らうか。それだけです。
＋　　　＋　　　＋
でも、アブラハムにはもう一つのことが分かりました。「献げ物の小羊はきっと神が備えてくださる」（創世記22:8）ということ。どうしてそんなことを言えるのでしょうか。

アブラハムがすでに年老いて、年老いた妻のサラとの間で子どもができていなかったとき、神は彼に告げられました。「あなたを多くの国民の父とする」（創世記17:5）。自分の息子、サラとの間で生まれる子を通して、星の数ほどの子孫ができちゃう、と神が告げられたのです。

これは、神のアブラハムへの約束です。最初は、アブラハムにとってやすやすと受け入れられる話ではありませんでした。子ども？１００歳の自分と９０歳の妻に？でも、一年後、ほら！イサクが生れました。約束は実現されたのです。

だから神が約束を守る方であることは、アブラハムによく分かります。「多くの国民」を息子イサクを通してできることが、神に約束されています。そして神は必ず約束を守る方です。だから「献げ物の小羊はきっと神が備えてくださる」と言えると思います。

神がお求めになることは、時々大変に思うときがあります。耐え難いと感じるときもあります。でも神は決していたずらしたり、無意味で求めたりすることはございません。

もちろん、これこら何が起こるか、アブラハムにははっきり分かりません。人間は、将来を前もって知りたがるけれども、それは許されていないことです。（マヤの暦のどのこのはすべてデタラメです！）

アブラハムが刃物を手にしたとき、きっとその神への信頼が極端に試されたと思います。試されたけれども、アブラハムは望みを失いませんでした。唯一のまことの神、生きる人と死んだ人の主である神、約束を必ず守ってくださる神に望みをかけ続けたのです。

だからこそアブラハムは「我々の信仰の父」と呼ばれるのです（ローマ4:16）。聖パウロが言います：
「アブラハムは希望するすべもなかったときに、なおも望みを抱いて、信じ、［『わたしはあなたを多くの民の父と定めた』（創世記17:5）］と言われていたとおりに、多くの民の父となりました。」（ローマ4:16）

ヘブライ人への手紙の著者はこういうふうに言います：
「信仰によって、アブラハムは、試練を受けたとき、イサクを献げました。つまり、約束を受けていた者が、独り子を献げようとしたのです。この独り子については、『イサクから生まれる者が、あなたの子孫と呼ばれる』と言われていました（創世記21:12）。アブラハムは、神が人を死者の中から生き返らせることもおできになると信じたのです。それで彼は、イサクを返してもらいましたが、それは死者の中から返してもらったも同然です」（ヘブライ11:17）
＋　　　＋　　　＋
もう一つの恐ろしいストーリーをわたしたちは知っています。これもある息子、愛される独り子についてのストーリーです。このストーリーの子も、捧げ物として選ばれるのです。

この子も、木の上に屠られるように定められます。その木をこの子にも背負わせられます。そしてご自分がその木を運ばれます。モリアという山ではなくて、ゴルゴタという丘の上まで。

ところが、このストーリーでは、その子が何も知らないでその捧げられる場所に連れて行かれるのではなくて、自ら進んで、神のみ心に従ってそこまで足を運ばれます。

また、このストーリーでは、天使などが間に入ったり、金属がその子の体を刺し貫く前に止めたりはしません。ギリギリで免れることはありません。いけにえは実行されてしまいます。その子は死なれます。

アブラハム以上にキリストは何も、その命でさえ、惜しまなかったのです。最後の最後まで神に望みをかけ続けられたのです。
＋　　　＋　　　＋
でも、神は約束を守られる方です。生きる人と死んだ人の主です。最終的に理不尽なことを求めたりはなさいません。神は、アブラハムと同じようにイエスへの約束をも守られました。その話はイースターになったらしましょう！

こういう神ですから、神に信頼を、希望をかけることは、どんなときでも必ず賢い選択です。逆に、神を信用しない、ほかのことに最終的な希望を置くことは、愚かな選択です。

逆説ですが、イエスはそういうことを仰っているのではないかなと思います：

「自分の命を救いたいと思う者は、それを失うが、わたしのため、また福音のために命を失う者は、それを救うのである」（マルコ8:35）

つまり、いつ、どこ、どの程度神のみ心に従うか、自分で決めようとする人は、結局神とのつながりを切ってしまって、本当の命をいただけなくなってしまうのだ、ということです。逆に、神に身を任せる人、神が計り知れなく恵み深くて慈しみ深い、必ず約束を守る方であると分かって、何があっても神に信頼・希望をかけ続ける人は、神との交わりを大いに味わえる人だ、と。それこそ、永遠に至る命だ、ということだと思います。

「信仰を持つ」というのは、こういうことです。約束を決して敗らない、慈愛深い父に信頼と希望をかけ続けることです。

きっと神が備えてくださる。アブラハムはそう思って、裏切られませんでした。イエスもそう思われて、裏切られませんでした。わたしたちが必要としていることも、きっと神が備えてくださる。その約束をしっかり受け入れて、前向きにこの大斎節を送りたいと思います。

Chi-chan

It's been three years since my friend Chi-chan died, at age seven, after an unsuccessful bone marrow transplant. "Chan" in Japanese is the diminutive form of "san," kind of like Lil' in English. Used for children, especially girls. The poem refers to a hidden skylight in the hospital's small chapel called Teusler Hall. The skylight can only be accessed by ducking under a low-hanging wall. It is too narrow for someone with broad shoulders to stand up inside.

Careful when you make that face, I say
It might freeze up like that
That’s okay, you say
I’ll just pour hot water on it

You, the bed, the world entire
Mother moon encircling
Love's gravity stirring the soul's deeps
Never alone, you were
Never left to your own devices

A father's marrow
Red sun hovers low on the horizon
Love pouring down into your bones
Terrible gift you gave to him
A father's burden
   and greatest honor
     Truly this is bone of my bone,
     Flesh of my flesh
Tongue-tied love's calligraphy
smoothly penned in blood
+   +   +
秋高し
母娘（おやこ）の涙
神を問う
Vaulting autumn sky
Mother daughter tears streaming
Querying God’s grace
 
Everyone else got to go home
Why me? Was I bad? Did I sin?
Child theodicy like a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus
 
No, no little one, no and a thousand times no
  Neither hath she sinned, nor her parents:
  but that the works of God should be made manifest in her.
He is always with you, Come what may, never apart
Your tears rend His heart
 
That all you got up your sleeve, Chaplain?
This the full extent of learned divinity?
All for this?
+   +   +
words fail, falter, fall out of joint and so
I show you the secret place in Dr. Teusler's Hall
the only way in is to be small
the kingdom belongs to such as these
 
tunnel dug straight up into the sky
discovery's smile
tongue tip darting out as ever
small enough to stand tall
here alone, beloved child, autumn cascading quick-silver
over your bald crown
heaven's delight a mantle on your slight, titanic shoulders
+   +   +
The blanket on your death bed
Pooh gazing fondly at a flower
  "Thank you for blossoming for me."
 
       Oh, my kingdom for a cup of hot water…

center of gravity

Some friends were recently talking on Facebook about an atheist's view of death. I thought I could sense an undercurrent of hostility (!) toward Christian faith for being preoccupied with "the afterlife" and therefore not really engaged in this life, this world. "The heavenly minded are no earthly good" kind of vibe.

But that's quite different from my understanding of the Christian faith. I wrote:

The center of gravity for my own faith and, I would argue strongly, of the gospel, is not "life after death" but rather the quality of living, character, and relationships in this life (though not bounded by this life). In other words, authentic human flourishing and growth in virtue. At the same time, I can understand in an age or society dominated by war, famine, and plague, why the accent might shift to "a better world after this one." And, as someone who works on a pediatrics oncology ward, the hope of heaven has never been so visceral to me as it is now. Still, Jesus said the kingdom of God is among you, in the here and now. Love calls us to the things of this world.

自分自身の信仰の中心は、そして福音の中心でもあると主張したいのだが、「死後の命」ではなくて、むしろこの世における生き方、人格、人間関係の質にあると思う。（まあ、この世でだけの話ではないけど）。つまり、まことの人間の繁栄と徳における成長に関わるものである。同時に、戦争や飢饉や伝染病だらけの時代、社会の中で、どうして「より良いあの世」への関心が高まるか分からないわけではない。なお、小児ガンの病棟に関わっている者として、わたしはかつてないほど、天国への望みを「はらわたで」抱いているのである。しかし、イエスが仰ったのは、神の国はあなたがたの間にある、今、ここで、と。わたしたちは愛によってこの世のことにこそ呼ばれるのである。

That last sentence is the title of an excellent poem by Richard Wilbur, a former poet laureate in the US. You can see him reading the poem here. And the poem itself is below. The story is about a man woken from a sleep in New York by the sound of a neighbor hanging laundry out to dry. The sleeper doesn't want to wake up and return to the world of the day-to-day, but he does, finally. "The soul descends once more in bitter
love / To accept the waking body." Because...

Love Calls Us To The Things Of This World

The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded
soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and
simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with
angels.

Some are in bed-sheets, some are
in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there
they are.
Now they are rising together in calm
swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they
wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal
breathing;

Now they are flying in place,
conveying
The terrible speed of their
omnipresence, moving
And staying like white water; and now
of a sudden
They swoon down in so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
The soul shrinks

From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every
blessed day,
And cries,
"Oh, let there be nothing on
earth but laundry,
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising
steam
And clear dances done in the sight of
heaven."

Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world's hunks
and colors,
The soul descends once more in bitter
love
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns
and rises,

"Bring them down from their ruddy
gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs
of thieves;
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be
undone,
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure
floating
Of dark habits,
keeping their difficult
balance." 

reflections on a girl's funeral

I took the stairs down to the hospital mortuary feeling slightly nauseous. It was probably not so much the dread of seeing Sara (not her real name) as fear of facing the grief of her family.

When a child dies, nobody "comes to terms" with it. None of the soothing platitudes make a good fit. "It was her time." "She led a full life." "At least she went peacefully." I've never heard somebody try to put a positive spin on things. Nobody's okay with it.
+   +   +
When I saw her lying there, the breath went out of me like I'd been sucker punched.

She was so small, and still.

Not too long before, we had been exchanging slightly wary nods on the ward. I find it hard to establish a rapport with the girls in the peds ward, at least the older ones. I never know what to say. No more than I did when I was a teenager.

Plus, most of the time the girls stay behind their pink curtains, which might as well be as thick as castle stones. Their own worlds. I can never think up a good excuse to intrude.

So whenever I do get the chance, I make eye contact and nod and smile, and keep waiting for God to create opportunities to be helpful, if I can. Meanwhile I pray, every day, from the sidelines.
+   +   +
The blown-up picture showed Sara with Luke, her beagle. (Her mother said it was "coincidence" that she happened to choose to give her dog the name of the hospital where she would spend the last years of her life. Yeah, right.)

In the photo she was maybe eleven or twelve. Sitting on grass, a park somewhere. Smiling unself-consciously, just because she was with Luke, and it was a good day.

In the photo, there was not even the hint of a shadow of cancer in her eyes.
+   +   +
At the wake, I was looking out at all of Sara's schoolfriends who came. Pretty much all of her classmates from middleschool, I learned later. All the way from out in West Tokyo, more than an hour away by train.

Now, except for Sara, they had all gone off to various highschools, as freshmen, so they were wearing different school uniforms. But they all looked pretty much the same. Most of the girls' skirts were too short. Most of the boys' hair was too long and scruffy. Typical high school kids, in other words.

As each one came up to lay a flower in front of Sara's picture, pretty much all the girls were crying. Some were in bad shape. All the boys looked uncomfortable. A few of them had "deer in the headlights" expressions.

As I watched them, I felt a kind of anger welling up inside. Or maybe it was sadness, or frustration. I don't know, really. A tightening in the pit of the stomach.

"These kids' shouldn't have to be here," I thought. "They shouldn't have to be here, and Sara shouldn't have to be in this pine box up here. She should be out there, with them. They should all be hanging out in a park somewhere, or at MacDonald's. Copying each others' homework. Girls talking about boys. Boys talking about sports. Nobody should be here."
+   +   +
The funeral was quieter. Most of Sara's friends were back in school.

I nearly lost it halfway through the sermon. I was talking about Sara's courage, and the courage of her family. And suddenly I was struck by the sheer unfairness of what each of them had been called to deal with. And for what end? All that sacrifice and determination and and love-in-action--and still she died.

Tears sprang into my eyes. I couldn't see my sermon text. My nose started running. I felt like an idiot. Somehow I pushed on and got through.
+   +   +
Sara's father and little brother rode in the Hearse to the crematorium. Her mother drove herself. Somehow, that struck me as strange. So quotidien.
+   +   +
While waiting at the crematorium, the girl's mother told me she found out from the Chapel website that she (the mother) and I were the same age. We both smiled at that. But under the surface of that smile, feelings so shadowy and complex that I couldn't begin to sort through them.

Two forty-somethings, sitting down having tea. Her oldest child in a furnace downstairs.
+   +   +
As I watched them put Sara's bones into the white ceramic urn, I thought: Well, we finally managed to destroy this particular batch of cancer cells. And all it cost was...
+   +   +
Blessed Mary, you know the pain of losing a child. Yea, the sword of grief has pierced through thine own soul also. Pray for the family of Sara, and for us all. Pray for your Son to come again, and soon.

left behind: tsunami stories (V)

A volunteer from the nursing college was visiting an evacuation shelter a couple of months after the tsunami. There, she met an elderly couple. Both of them had mobility issues due to their legs.

When the earthquake struck, they were at home with their daughter. As the tsunami warnings started sounding, the daughter grew worried about her son, their grandson, and decided to go pick him up.

She helped both her parents get up on the low table in the dining room, in case the waters came in and the floor got wet. Then she set out in her car to find her son.

The tsunami came rushing into their house, and the old couple found themselves being lifted up, along with the table, all the way to the ceiling. Like a raft.

The water was about to engulf them, too, and they were sure they were going to drown. But then it suddenly receded, setting the table gently back down on the floor again.

Although the inside of the house was in shambles, the two of them were wet but unharmed.

But their daughter and grandson never came home.

The grandmother couldn't stop crying as she related this story in the shelter. "It should've been us who died," she kept repeating. 

The grandfather just kept rubbing his useless legs, saying nothing.

kindergarten in a hotspot: tsunami stories (IV)

The following is an excerpt of a documentary I was recently asked to translate into English:

Kohriyama is home to Saint Paul's Kindergarten. The school is located in one of the city's so-called radioactive "hotspots."

School employees carry out decontamination efforts every single day. Both in the morning and in the evening, they break into teams to wash the entire school building. They also wipe down all surfaces inside the classrooms.

The children wear masks to school. Even the children understand that masks are helpful in avoiding contact with radioactive materials.

The high radiation levels at the school weren't discovered until more than a month after the nuclear meltdown. Inspectors from the Education ministry informed the kindergarten about the radiation amounts. The topsoil of the school grounds was immediately dug up and removed.

But no one would agree to dispose of the topsoil, so it sat in a pile in a corner of the school grounds.

Radiation measurements taken of the dirt pile were high enough to be reported in the news.

After searching for a solution to the disposal problem, the school finally decided to seal the contaminated dirt in thick rubber sheeting and bury it deep underground in an area next to the school.

Now that the dirt has been taken away, radiation levels on the school grounds are down to zero-point-three microsieverts.

For a while, requests from parents to take their children out of the kindergarten were increasing. But now that decontamination efforts have brought radiation levels down, the parents' anxiety has turned into a deepened sense of trust.

[The head of the kindergarten:] "For these children who can't leave and go somewhere else, I thought, how can we let them run around and play--how can we make sure they have a safe place to be? We've just got to clean things up and bring the levels down. That's basically the only thing I worry about every day.
We're fighting a horror that we can't see. If it had color we could wipe it up, or at least keep from touching it. If it had a bad smell we could go inside... But it's nothing like that. That's what makes it so scary."

playing funeral: tsunami stories (III)

The following is an excerpt of a documentary I was recently asked to translate into English:

On the first day back, childcare students from St. Mary's College in Nagoya came to volunteer at the kindergarten.

Their reason for coming so far to this place? They wanted to be with the children who had gone through the experience of the tsunami. What surprised the college students was how the children played during break times: "Pretend Funeral" was a popular game…

"What do you want to play? Funeral? Medicine?"
"Funeral!"
"There wasn't any medicine at Grandma and Grandpa's funeral!"

Eight children from Fuji Kindergarten died in the tsunami. For many people, starting up the school again brought very mixed feelings.

[The head of the kindergarten:] "Should we really go ahead with this after eight of our children died? Part of me thinks we shouldn't. We had about 50 children there, scared to death in the buses… We hadn't done anything at all to provide psychological care for them."
"We have a big responsibility toward the children who lived, who are alive."

It's important to focus on the here and now for the children who lived, who are alive. That's probably what Junko Nakaso, who died while trying to save her children's lives, would have wanted.

last bus ride: tsunami stories (II)

The following is an excerpt of a documentary I was recently asked to translate into English:

Minoru and Yoshimi Miyake, whose lives were lost in the tsunami, were devoted members of St. John's. Their daughter, Junko Nakaso, was also one of the victims of the tsunami.

Junko worked as a teacher at Fuji Kindergarten in Yamamoto-cho, a town just north of Shinchi-machi. On March 11, Junko and her colleagues were riding the bus home with 18 children from the kindergarten when the tsunami struck.

Reports say that the bus and all its passengers were swept along by the tsunami and struck a house, and then began slowly filling with water.

In ice-cold weather, Junko worked to get all the children safely out of the bus. While waiting for help to come, she sought to encourage the children and keep them calm. Military rescue efforts began the next morning.

By that time, Junko had already been called home to be with the Lord.

holding on: tsunami stories (I)

The following is an excerpt of a documentary I was recently asked to translate into English:

Minami Sanriku-cho in Miyagi Prefecture. Nearly three quarters of the homes in this town were lost in the tsunami.

One of the town's residents is Kiyomi Suzuki. When the tsunami struck, he barely escaped. That day, when he sensed the danger of a tsunami, Suzuki hurried to reach higher ground. He climbed to where the factory of his handicapped son was.

When he got to the top of the hill, Suzuki turned to see the tsunami pouring in over the town below. Just a few minutes later, he says, the tsunami had risen all the way to his feet.

"Uh-oh, I thought. This is not good. Then all of a sudden it came rushing up to where I was."

Desperate, Suzuki ran to the buildings behind him, but the rushing water soon rose as high as he was.

"When I got here, the water was already up over my head. So I was being pushed along with the wave…I was floating in brown water. And then I saw this [drain pipe].
Until I got here, two or three times I came close to drowning. I thought I was going to die. Oh, so this is what it's like to die, I thought. I was almost ready to give up. And then I found this drain pipe. I thought, I've got to grab onto this. I grabbed it like this… And then, a few seconds later, whoosh! The water went down. All that water, and then it was gone. There was nothing left around here. It all happened so fast. In the blink of an eye."