The Present

Last week, Stephanie and I went to the Jazz Kitchen for a fun evening of music and dancing. When the band played its first number, “Sleigh Ride,” we looked at each other and said, “Christmas?! On November 12?!” When they played “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” even the bartender rolled her eyes. I love Christmas. But I also love autumn. Does holiday music really need to start so soon? Can we not appreciate the season we are in?

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now,” Sylvia Plath wrote in her journals. “Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”

Most of us don’t live intentionally in the present moment. We replay events from the past or imagine how something will turn out in the future. This is not without value. We can’t learn from the past if we never examine it or prepare for the future if we don’t look ahead.

But in doing so, we often fail to see what is right in front of us. We take the present moment for granted instead of being “acutely aware” of it. So, we miss the opportunity to rejoice in the beauty around us or to celebrate the relationship of the person we are with. Or we push away our grief from the loss we’re experiencing or the opportunity to care for the neighbor who is hurting. We miss the gifts of the season we’re in because we’re living too soon in the season to come.

One of the more beautiful hymn texts in the Hymnal 1982, “Now the Silence,” reminds us to pay attention to the moment. Though it’s focused on the Eucharist, it reminds us that Jesus comes to us in every moment. All we need to do is pay attention.

Now the silence

Now the peace

Now the empty hands uplifted

Now the kneeling

Now the plea

Now the Father’s arms in welcome

Now the hearing

Now the power

Now the vessel brimmed for pouring

Now the Body

Now the Blood

Now the joyful celebration

Now the wedding

Now the songs

Now the heart forgiven leaping

Now the Spirit’s visitation

Now the Son’s epiphany

Now the Father’s blessing

Now Now Now 

(by Jaroslav Vajda, 1919-2008)