OLD BOOKS AND NEW THOUGHTS

When I was the pastor of Cranbury UMC, every once in awhile I would wander up the street to an old house on the corner of North Main & Park Place, which was known as The Bookworm. It was a treasure trove of old and antique books on every floor, even down into the basement.

My reason for going there was sometimes to try to find a copy of a book I wanted and/or needed that was no longer in print. But there were other times I wanted to just be in a place that was filled with the words and thoughts and wisdom of a whole host of people, literally, of all walks of life. The many shelves of the Bookworm were their home amid the musty smells and the quiet, pensive sound of classical music in the background. 

I would aimlessly meander from room to room, occasionally taking a book off the shelf here or there—maybe poetry, maybe philosophy or religion, maybe even cooking or “how to draw.” Once in awhile an Agatha Christie or other mystery novel would catch my attention, and I had no choice but to buy it and take home with me if I wanted to know "who done  it". Once I found the complete works of Sherlock Holmes stories, which has long since disappeared from my collection. The topics were endless. 

There was something about being in an atmosphere so filled with old books that each contained the works of a multitude of authors who had carefully crafted their thoughts on pages that someone would read even many years hence. Maybe they wrote in the wee hours of the morning while everyone else in the house slept; maybe they wrote in the evening hours as the sun was going down; maybe they wrote by candlelight or gas light or by a lamp on a desk in a library.

Well, of course, you can see how carried away I can get with this stuff, (I was an English Major in college) so I’ll get to the main thing I want to say, which is that while we are so caught up with current events as well we need to be, and so overwrought by the likes of a pandemic and major storms and international crises, just to name a few, there is a need for the healing and comfort that can be found in the wisdom and humor and imagination of those who proceeded us on this planet. 

Consider this: You need a shift in some present mood that has infiltrated your soul and has left you in despair or with a sense of hopelessness? May i suggest that you find and read an old book of poetry, philosophy, spirituality, or some area of life that you've maybe even forgotten about that those kindred spirits who have gone before us left for our goodness and well-being. Treasures of thoughts and heart.

Ecclesiastes 1:9 says:

    "What has been is what will be, and what has been done         is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun."

I could very well be wrong in my interpretation, but it seems to be saying that, in the living of our lives, we can be assured that all will be well when the day is done. (Peter, Paul, & Mary)

Just a thought. 

The Parable of A Walnut Tree

It was 1954 and I was 11years old when Hurricane Hazel came sweeping through Medford, NJ. It took out our family’s much beloved English walnut tree in the side yard and stretched it across Main Street, blocking traffic. Neighbors came from all over the neighborhood and beyond to help cut it up, and to my recollection, those were the days long before chain saws were a common tool.  

It was a very dramatic scene seeing all those men working so diligently at a job that had very little rewards for anybody other than doing something together with a complete sense of comradeship. And when the cutting and chopping were done, my dad insisted that the leftover stump be set upright in place. Would it live? Only time would tell.

We were heartbroken because of all the memories that tree held in its branches. Each year my parents would gather up the walnuts after they had fallen, and put them in a cardboard box, and store them up in the attic to dry. The aroma the walnuts emitted as they “aged” was amazing! Open the attic door and the scent came wafting down the steps, enticing you to just go up and spend some time.

Besides the walnuts, it had also been the center of family life. My sister and her friends would sit under it and talk teenage talk. My dad hung up a swing for me on one of its branches. There was an array of crocuses that came up under it every spring. Friends and neighbors visited with my parents beneath it, sitting in our lawn furniture --a metal glider and chairs for those of you who know what they were like. 

Here's the thing: other people might have decided to remove the stump, thinking of what use was it? The tree's no longer there--take it out and fill in the hole and move on. But, not my dad. The next spring he planted a rock garden around it in loving respect for what the tree had meant to all of us.

And yes, it continued to live with little branches and leaves. It reminds me of that text from Isaiah: "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots..." [Isaiah 11:1 NRSV]

I guess you could say about that, that there is strength in our memories to help us smoothly transition into the next phase of life, as long as we have faith in even the littlest glimmer of hope. Tend that hope like a rock garden surrounding the best roots and branches of our past.

Just a thought.