When I was in my early 20s, in my first job out of college, I was invited, through a fortuitous set of circumstances and connections, to join an interfaith Bible study group. At the time, the group was composed of five gentlemen in their 60s and beyond - two Jews, two Catholics, and one Baptist minister among them - who had been meeting, in various iterations, since before I was born. Once a month, in a conference room in a downtown office building, these men sat together for an hour of study and an hour of lunch (sandwiches, cookies, potato chips, and V-8 juice, without exception).
In the Spring of 1994, this group of men decided that the time had come to include younger voices in their conversation, and two of us were invited to join their midst - myself, and a Protestant gentleman, who was then in his early 30s - and we have been studying together ever since (though we no longer drink V-8 juice, I’m not sure why). Over the years we have added two additional members to our group, and we have lost two of the older gentlemen - including the Baptist minister, who died last week at the age of 90.
Which is how I found myself sitting in church yesterday morning, handkerchief in hand, with my Jewish, Catholic, and Presbyterian friends beside me, all of us remembering our dear friend.
And I realized a few things.
For all of the 30 plus years we have been studying together, I have assumed that the group invited us young (no longer young, though still younger) folks to the table because they wanted to hear from a younger perspective. It was only yesterday, sitting there in church, that it occurred to me: perhaps the older members invited us to join them in study because they knew that we needed to hear from them.
I have been thinking so much lately about the passage of time. Oh who am I kidding, I think so much about the passage of time all the time - but lately it feels heightened, or accelerated. And it occurred to me yesterday that there has hardly been a day of my adult life that was not informed - or formed - by this interfaith study. I was invited into this group at the age of 21 (younger than both of my kids are now), and every single month for the last 32 years, I have sat around a table with folks who are different from me, engaged in exploration and conversation about our most deeply held beliefs.
Have I learned things about the Bible along the way? Yes. About history? Yes. About myself and my own beliefs? Also yes. But more importantly - perhaps most importantly - I have learned to be in conversation with people who have thoughts and ideas and beliefs that are different from my own. What a great gift.
What a great good thing.
Monday:
Lucy is home!
The tulips on my kitchen table are so bright and vibrant they almost don’t look real.
Dinner with Molly. And that I arrived before the rain and left after the rain, and I didn’t get caught in the rain.
Now you? Tell me 3 good things?
Xo.
