And it was night.

"After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival”; or, that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night." John 13:21-30

They had finished their meal. There had been little conversation until this point and the food and drink was gone, with only a little bread left on the table. It had been an odd gathering, the least of which was Jesus’ unusual quietness and his demeanor that radiated unease. Not only that but then he- their teacher, their leader, their Lord and master had wrapped a towel around his waste, kneeled down, and washed their feet. These feet that had walked with him from town to town, feet that had even walked on water. They had carried the disciples on this journey with him, brought them to this place…this meal…and here they were, being washed, loved, served…


It had grown late. Outside the darkness of night had fallen- yet Jesus remained at the table with them, still troubled and agitated. He had already told them things- odd things. Things that were going to happen to them. Things, he said, that they wouldn’t understand but that they needed to know.
Jesus knew what the night would bring. And he could not bring himself to hide the truth. Though he knew the words would not make sense until after it was finished, and perhaps he knew they might never truly understand. Yet, he is compelled by his own unease and troubled spirit to tell them. Betrayal is coming. He even tells them who- yet, their eyes and ears cannot see or hear. He takes the bread and offers it to him.
To Judas. One who’s feet had walked and were washed. Who’s eyes had witnessed the lame walk and the blind see. Eyes that saw the bent walk upright. Judas- who had seen the crowds fed. Who had heard Jesus say- “I am the Bread of life” and promise streams of living water to all those who were thirsty. He is one who had seen and yet did not believe. Judas- who had demeaned and disregarded the worship and love Mary offered at Jesus’ feet. And now he was driven to falsehood, to denial, to betrayal- driven out into the night, away from this room of fellowship. He exchanged the one who is the Light of the world for the mere glow of 30 pieces of silver. So, he leaves. And it was night.
Night swallows and hides. Night has always been and always will be- but not only night that ends the day, but the night that we know has enveloped the world from the start. It is the night of misunderstanding, of isolation, and separation. Separated from light, this night was the darkness of the world to which the Word of God came, took on flesh, and moved into the neighborhood. Jesus came to bring life, and that life was the light for all people. And the light of this life shined in the darkness- and the darkness did not overcome it.
After receiving the bread, Judas immediately went out. And it was night. A night that separates. But also a night like all others- that ends.
This Holy Week we do not shy away from this night- from its darkness. For Judas, the darkness of night offered cover for his betrayal, but confirmed his separation and drove him away to another, lesser,  light. He went into the darkness alone. But we do not. We sit in the darkness, knowing that there is light, true light- the light that shines and is not overcome, the light that transforms the darkness into a medium of hope rather than fear. We sit in it in faithfulness to see what the night will bring. Watching. And waiting.

Accepting the Unacceptable

Each year on our birthdays it became a tradition amongst my friends to name a “theme” for the year. A sentence, a word- anything. This year, I knew this was coming, so I tried to do some “prep work” (...blame the J...). There was one word that came to me over and over again- Acceptance. I declared this at breakfast when the expected question was posed to me. I meant it in a personal, reflective, “I’m just getting to know myself” kind of way. But, as God would have it, that morning I received notice of my acceptance to the Masters program at the University of Edinburgh. My theme had taken on literal dimensions- and sooner than expected. After I (graciously) accepted my acceptance I realized all the other ­accepting I would be doing in the months to come. Accepting that I wouldn’t drive a car for twelve months, or have access to a Target or worse still, a Trader Joe’s. Accepting that graduating meant the past three years were coming to an end. Accepting all the things I had done, and not done, in those three years. Accepting that I would no longer live in Princeton, with friends living fifty yards away. Accepting that I would be going into debt to pursue a very unstable future and an even more unclear dream. Most of all, accepting that I would be doing this on my own. It became clear that this theme was more fitting than I had imagined.

Now that I find myself back in the exciting and quirky medieval city that is Edinburgh, I have fallen into loving this country like never before. I love it like a second home, a place that is familiar yet surprising, all at once. It looks and feels different than it did at 20- but then, again, so do I. More acceptance. Acceptance that I am a changed person, no longer merely seeking adventure but experience. Acceptance that a place doesn’t make an experience worthwhile; rather, people do. More than that, I am becoming increasingly aware that I must accept more than my surroundings, my future, or the people who add color to both. I must accept myself. I must accept what is unacceptable.

Sure- I started this blog as a way to keep myself accountable for the change I wanted to see in my life. It can still be that, I think, but it won’t fit the mold I had made. But you know what- I accept that.

Oh For Shame...

As my Minnesotan grandmother and her sisters would say, "Oh for shame!" That is exactly how I feel as I publically admit my obvious failure to update my musings. Not that I feel your lives are severely affecting by this, nor do I think you lay awake at night worrying and fuming over it. But the entire point of this project was to create boundaries, understand commitment, and rediscover discipline. This is what I lay awake at night worrying and fuming about. Not with respect to a blog but to my life.


I will not give up! I have not given up. I will be back with a new challenge on a new day. 


Rest assured...

"It does not do to dwell on dreams...and forget to live."

I am not a morning person. I cannot wake up early to finish a paper or study for a test. If the choice is between sleeping for twenty more minutes and breakfast, I choose sleep. More than that, I am exceptionally grumpy in the morning (really, really grumpy). As a matter of fact, when I shared an 8:00am class with my roommates in college (to which we walked together) my demeanor was so hostile that they were convinced I was personally upset with them. In all fairness I was personally upset- I took the early hour of my day very personally. I felt bad about this at the time (well…not at 7:45 in the morning but after I had been awake for a while), and it caused me to examine how extreme my hatred of early mornings had become. By now, I’ve learned to curb my frustration and annoyance at least so I don’t express it so unbecomingly and undeservedly to my friends or family. But I still don’t like getting up early. I like my sleep to much!

Our friendly U.S. Department of Health and Human Services put out a document that explains the types of sleep we experience, going on to make you delightfully paranoid that you might have a sleeping disorder. A lot of this we’ve learned in health classes throughout the years, but it highlights some important points I had forgotten (or was never told). When adults are given unlimited opportunity to sleep they sleep an average of 8 to 8.5 hours. This isn’t a hard and fast rule, but it fits the general understanding of how much sleep is enough. They also mentioned an interesting study where they tested the relationship between amount of sleep and length of life. They found that sleep is as vital as food for survival. Rats, who normally live 2 to 3 years, lived only 5 weeks when they were deprived of REM sleep and only 2-3 weeks when deprived of all sleep. It’s an understatement to say that sleep is important. Sleep is vital.

But is it possible to have too much sleep? The entire Department of Health document argued on behalf of sleep, always with the assumption that none of us get enough. All the sleep disorders given special mention are cases where the sufferer is unable to get sufficient rest or the right amount of time with certain sleep cycles. Narcolepsy is the only one that doesn’t fit this pattern, but even this disorder is understood to come about in persons who initially experience disturbed sleep. At different ages we require different amounts of sleep (another section in the pamphlet). But what would we say to an adult who physically can sleep more than his or her allotted 8.5 hours (if we’re being generous)?

We’d probably blame it on something else. Some “emotional complication”. And, from experience, I think that’s probably true. Once you’ve experienced depression, you never look on sleep the same way again. When I was in High School, I was booked to the max. I swam an average of 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. I was involved in my church youth group and took a total of 10 AP and International Baccalaureate classes. Needless to say, it wasn’t surprising that I was tired all the time. But my Junior year was different. There were “emotional complications” that made it a miracle I got all my homework done- given how much I slept. Since then, I’ve become wary of exhaustion. I look at it suspiciously, questioning why it’s there. As a result, after High School I rarely let myself get exhausted- by anything. I slept when I could, giving in at the slightest hint of a yawn. Of course I got my work done, did well, learned a lot, and created great and lasting friendships; but, I never wanted to see my old friend Exhaustion again.

Recently, though, I’ve experienced a renewed desire to be exhausted. Physically, you need some kind of tiring activity during the day to sleep at night. Yet, I think my pull was something more than that. When I’m lying in my bed in the morning, and I think about how lovely it would be to just lie there, half awake, on the verge of dreaming again- knowing that the dreams were so much better than what I envisioned that day bringing- words of a great wizard come to me. Albus Dumbledore advises Harry in the first of J.K. Rowling’s novels, “It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry, and forget to live.” It does not do to dwell on dreams because that’s what they will always stay- dreams. With reality and life there is a possibility that new things can come into being, new people can refresh us, new activities that can make us exhausted- in a good way. And the only way to do this is to wake up.

This week’s goal: begin each day at a decent hour (before 9:30am) and do one task that pushes me towards exhaustion- in a good way.

Update plan: Saturday to Friday, I will put the previous post’s “challenge” into practice. After taking it on, I will reflect on my experience, reporting honestly my success or failure. Then a new challenge will come on Saturday. All of this is in the hope that I can stick to the additional challenge of writing each week…

*To access the publication from the U.S. Department of Health mentioned in this post, please visit their website.