Here comes that rain again.
Last night I was startled by the sound of unexpectedly heavy rain outside my window. Having been brought up on Ireland’s rather predictably wet summers, I would normally be disappointed by such a sound. From childhood, rain inevitably dampened some aspect of the coming day’s events. Even now, light years from the vagaries of the Atlantic climate, it is still easy to react with Irish sensibilities to the totally different weather patterns that one experiences here. Last night, out of character, I smiled, and brightened up inside at the sound. The roar of the relative downpour carried with it the possibility of cleaning the skies of the pollution that one hears so much about in the reports on the Olympics and brings ever nearer the possibility of a blue sky day for the opening ceremony on the 8th. Rain on!
It is a little disconcerting to find that I could react so innocently and spontaneously to an Olympic related phenomenon. I tend to think of myself as being rather above the common herd when it comes to the whole “Olympic Thing”. I rather imagine myself an objective observer, albeit with sympathy for the Chinese, looking down from an, dare I say, Olympian height, on the mere mortals who get excited by such things. I am one who travels through the city, noting this or that point of interest to report, but safe in my observer’s hauteur, I expect to remain totally unmoved by the unfolding events.
Total nonsense of course, there is no safe refuge from this experience. There are endless, unavoidable opportunities to be emotionally connected, even if it the feeling is only one of frustration with the security checks or the traffic delays. Those given to conspiracy theories, (I am not) see ominous signs of governmental interference evidenced by the very slow internet speeds that some of us are experiencing these days. I suspect the explanation is related to diverting bandwidth to the media centre, rather than some sort of censorship. But being frustrated by the delays is just another example of being connected to this experience directly. Happily there are more positive connections. Unexpected offers of tickets reveal how artificial my pose of disinterest was. I am thrilled to be attending the Games and cannot wait to see the inside of the Birds Nest, that I have, so far, only observed from a distance. In fact if anything, I am loosing the run of myself altogether, and have just agreed to run a half Marathon in October. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, an athlete. Yet, I find my self training daily, which I find gruelling, eating more healthily than ever, and psyching myself up for something which, if I succeed will be as personally as rewarding as Olympic Gold. So much for objectivity!
Prayer in these days, invites a corollary with the life of Jesus. I too easily imagine Him as the observer, the Son of God speaking enigmatically in parables, emotionally remote from the world in which he has become incarnate. But the scriptures present a different picture, he grieved for a dead friend, he raged against the traders in the temple, and even loved his apostles to differing degrees. Jesus engagement with the world is complete, not partial. His unambiguous engagement is disconcerting for one who prefers the emotional security of the observer’s box. The sound of rain falling helps me to realise that I am part of the ‘Games’ experience not just observer of it. Prayer in these days suggests the same about Life. Thus is one learning about following Jesus in the lead up to the Beijing Olympics.