Swimming

We have treasures in jars of clay. – 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NRSV) 

Any suggestion of changing a building, or moving the location of the thrift shop on a church campus, or removing the pews, or building affordable housing—anything that hints of change to sacred physical space—will cause a fuss.   

These fusses distract us from “going deep.” Instead, we go shallow. We walk on the shore instead of swimming. Why don’t we just jump? Do we fear the water will be too cold? Usually, once we jump, the body normalizes its temperature, and we enjoy our swim. Sometimes, though, we don’t jump in. We don’t enjoy. Fuss cements us in the past. Fuss delays swimming. 

Jumping in lets past and present embrace. 

Molly Baskette, when installed at First Church, Berkeley, said: “I will not provide stability. I will provide instability.” The church put up affordable housing after one of their buildings burned down. John Lewis spoke of “Good trouble.” Instability is good trouble. Without it, we neither grow nor float. 

Malcolm Gladwell says that his best advice is “to hold our ideas lightly and softly.” Experience, like swimming, can change us. 

What does Jesus mean when he speaks of treasures in clay jars? He means universal temporality. All things material can break and eventually do. No jar lasts; it is a treasure for its time being.  

Ellsworth Kelly’s “Totem” at the Blanton Museum of Art in Texas is an immersion in light that is regularly, eternally, different every day. Stained glass arrangements make the space continually new as the light shifts. Visitors who wander inside are swimmers through the depths of color, always navigating the new. 

Prayer
Teach us, Most High, to be newly light every day. Make us ready for Easter. Amen.

About the Author
Donna Schaper is an interim Pastor at the United Church of Gainesville, Florida, and author, most recently of Remove the Pews—first from your theology, then from your building.