It was my turn to be lector Sunday at church, a task I relish because it requires me to focus on the Scripture lessons. This lectionary seemed especially poignant. "Vanity of vanities," the Old Testament lesson from Ecclesiastes began. "All is vanity. ... all is vanity and a chasing after wind." It goes on: "I hated all my toil in which I had toiled under the sun, seeing that I must leave it to all who come after me, and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish. ... For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This also is vanity."
I have been awakening frequently at night and lying awake, thinking about things I need to do at my job, wondering whether I remembered to do this or that or whether I would remember in the morning. The ancient wisdom speaks: All is vanity. This, too, shall pass. If only we could remember that wisdom when worries invade our minds.
And then, in the New Testament lesson, I read from Paul's letter to the Colossians: "Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. ... But now you must get rid of such things — anger, wrath, malice, slander and abusive language from your mouth. ... In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all in all."
A few hours after church, in a supermarket parking lot, a man was holding his face close against his car and loudly swearing that someone had scratched his car. He could not see the scratch unless he held his face at just the right angle, a fraction of an inch from the paint, but he was shouting to the woman standing by him, screaming abusively about the unknown person or thing that had left a tiny, nearly invisible mark on the paint of his car. I passed by him as quickly as I could, not wanting to hear his language or bear his anger. "All is vanity," I thought, but kept it to myself.
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