Nativity Catholic Church
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SO CLOSE…YET SO FAR—Looking On From A Distance
A "FIRESTARTER" Spiritual Essay by Rev.
Dr. Benjamin
Berinti, C.Pp.S. Driving along A-1-A in New Smyrna Beach, or “Atlantic Avenue” as they call it, I’ve often pondered a strange reality on that stretch of highway. There is a nursing home, directly across the road from the beach access, called “Ocean View Nursing and Rehabilitation.” And I keep wondering…how much of a “view” do the residents of that facility ever really get of the ocean, whose majestic waters sit within a stone’s throw from their front door? I’ve always fantasized (despite that the possibility is ever so slim) about retiring one day (who knows when that will happen with the way things are going for priests in this day and age) to someplace near the water—doesn’t have to be much, just a little cottage or something; I’d be more than happy to downsize to make myself fit into an ocean side clapboard shack. Not part of that fantasy is spending my retirement days confined to a nursing home along Atlantic Avenue, even though it does lay claim to almost-beachfront property. When I look at the sea salt ravaged, fading pink building’s exterior, I don’t even see any windows facing in the direction of the water. Perhaps they get away with their false advertising the same way that shady hotels proclaim their luxurious ocean-view suites—when in fact, all you can see is a sliver of surf, only if you stand just a certain way on top of the commode in the front bathroom, while holding your head at a 60° angle. Seems like such a tragedy to be so close to such beauty and inspiration, as well as the soothing and healing power of the tides, and yet be so far away. Not so long ago, I was cruising down that stretch of highway, about to pass the Ocean View Nursing facility, and much to my pleasant surprise, I saw for the first time, an elderly man sitting in his wheelchair on the sidewalk across the street from the beach access. He was alone, so at first I prayed that despite the lure of what was on the other side, he wasn’t going to attempt to cross that highway by himself! From the look in his eyes though, I could see he wasn’t going anywhere—at least not physically, but perhaps in his frail mind’s eye, he was longing to actually view the ocean, which might as well have been miles away. As my heart saddened at the sight, I immediately was drawn to another image, this one from the pages of Sacred Scripture. It’s an account of another quite elderly man, who had known great adventure, testing, drama, and intimacy with God in his life. The crowning jewel of the life he had led was the fact that he had “seen God face to face”—and lived to tell about it! Of course, I’m talking about Moses. Moses, despite leading God’s people out of slavery, and receiving the law of God, was not permitted to enter into the Promised Land. Seems bitterly unjust for Moses, the servant of God, whom the scriptures describe by saying, “never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face; he was unequaled for all the signs and wonders that the Lord let him perform in the land of Egypt….” For what seems in retrospect to be a too severe punishment after all the faithfulness that Moses indeed displayed before Yahweh and the people, Moses is only permitted to gaze across the valley into the “land flowing with milk and honey”—the land which Moses had spent his soul in trying to reach. We find this passage describing the scene in Deuteronomy 34:
Then Moses went up from the plains of Moab While we are clearly no Moses, there are many times in life perhaps when we are only able to travel so far; when we are only able to lay groundwork for which we never see results; when we can only gaze from afar at what might come to birth; when we will feel oh so close to what we have dreamed or worked so hard for, and yet to end up being so far away from. There are times in our lives when, like the man I spied in the wheelchair along Atlantic Avenue, the “ocean view” we desire may only be across the street…but we’ll never be able to reach it—the wages of our labors merely to look on from a distance. These are not easy nor desirable situations we face. Somehow we feel let down or cheated when we are stopped short of our goals, hopes, or efforts. This is only natural. But perhaps the mystery we butt heads with on these occasions is that our life is as much about traveling, getting as close as we can, making the efforts we make, leaving our footsteps in places—than it is about arriving, accomplishing, achieving, or finishing. While my heart is saddened every time I think about Moses sitting atop Mt. Nebo, his eyes fixed on a place he would never enter; and as I think about the wheelchair-bound resident of the Ocean View Nursing and Rehab center, staring glassy-eyed across the rush of cars and motorcycles carrying happy, carefree beach bums; and I think about the times in my life where it’s been more slogging along rather than arriving—I wonder what surprises God may still have in store for those who stay faithful to the journey—especially when we get so close…yet remain so far away.
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