Go, Tell It On The Mountain

Saturday, December 14, 2013
"Go, Tell It On The Mountain"

Today started with a lot of energy which really fit this song and has ended with some disheartening grading and a semi-unplanned nap that through me for a loop this afternoon, and a sinking feeling of exhaustion with a hint of oncoming fever.  So I'm feeling a bit less ready to sally forth unto the nearest mountain (much further away than two years ago).  I'm doubting a lot of things currently happening in my life -- like the fact that my sick and well Saturday nights look alarmingly similar.

Forget telling it on the mountain, the furthest I spread the word is less than a mile away at my place of work.  It's strange to feel my world contracting so literally.  Sure, I was barely employed and not self-sufficient last year, but I drove to Orange several times a week and talked to students via the Internet, I drove to Port Arthur for rehearsal, and I did the shopping and errands (which I didn't love, but hey, free rent) for the house.  I traveled more often to see friends out of town, and I just picked up and went off on a writer's residency to the Texas hill country.

Now most days I drive a distance that if I got up earlier I could probably walk, go to work, stay until 4:30 or 5 and then come home.  I do what I can at school to set an example for my students, but only some days do I feel like I am the frontline.  Don't get me wrong, some days I feel like I did this morning singing this rousing song -- like the front line building up the future of the Catholic Church.  I feel proud of being in a Catholic school that takes pride in emphasizing grammar, however painful a task it can be.

Other days I wonder if we can compete with the rest of the messages bombarding the students, especially with how careful we are at the school to avoid anything too controversial.  There are hard truths out there.  Mountains are dangerous places, and it's irresponsible to send people up to the mountains without telling them how to handle the rocks and snow.  But that's not our job but their parents', so how can we send them out to the mountains in good conscience?  It's not so much that I want to have those conversations with the students but that I feel beside the point when I know I shouldn't be the one to talk to them about all that the world will confront them with.

That metaphor got very mixed, and now even I'm not entirely sure what I'm talking about.  Since this is not a diary and my students routinely google me, I will try to re-focus on the song.

I suppose there is some reassurance in the second verse.  Even in this call to arms, there is some confirmation that I am not the lone civilian feeling drafted by the holy light and mission:

The shepherds feared and trembled
When high above the earth
Rang out the angel chorus
That hailed our Savior's birth.

But then again, by the third verse, they've gotten over that and answered the call:

And lo, when they had heard it,
They all bowed down and prayed;
They traveled out together
To where the Babe was laid.

So there's the answer -- prayer and faith-filled community.  My faith community is in Arizona and expecting a baby, which will keep them fairly busy, so it must be high time I found one here in Beaumont.  I've been uncomfortable praying in a group for some time now.  I can't nail down just when it started, but, well, there is it.  I know it's a problem.  Where two or three are gathered in my name and all of that.

I can probably trace it to college when I didn't click with the Catholic Student Center set and prayed alone at meals.  I thought I remembered in grad school how important it can be, but the two experiences have left me overly picky about who I share my faith with.

But we're meant to share our faith and our joy widely.

Go, tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere;
Go, tell it on the mountain
That Jesus Christ is born.