I have recently learned that “rumination” is a clinical term; I have long used the word as a synonym for “contemplate,” for example suggesting that I may “ruminate” on which movie I’d like to watch tonight. Having learned its psychological associations, I had two reactions: first, that I ought to be more thoughtful about how I use that word, and second, that sometimes I think I exhibit the clinical definition. Rumination, in the clinical sense, is the act of thinking excessively on a topic with a focus on its negative consequences, usually to the point of emotional distress.
When my grades aren’t done the day before they’re due, I ruminate. I think about all the assignments awaiting feedback, about the other tasks I must complete before the deadline, about how embarrassed I’ll be if I have to ask for an extension, about how long it will take me to grade each individual piece, and so on and so forth. After a bad first date, I ruminate. Why wasn’t it a better date? Do I need to be more open minded? Am I going to spend the rest of my life alone? Why haven’t I found the right person yet? You get the idea. I’m guessing that you, too, have ruminated once or twice.
On this feast of the Transfiguration, the church offers us not a solution to rumination, but an alternative. Our lives on earth are governed by uncertainty, and that uncertainty can fuel anxiety; the same is not true of the Divine. The Prophet Daniel foretells that the Son of man’s kingdom is eternal, that his is an “everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away.” Psalm 97 assures us that “The Lord is king, the Most High over all the earth.” And of course, Mark’s Gospel invites us to witness Jesus’s true identity, “dazzling,” and to hear God’s pronouncement that “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” Rarely do we have such continuity across the readings; Jesus is the Son of God, and his kingdom will last forever. Full stop.
The alternative to rumination for the Christian is to set our eyes on this singular truth. Anxiety on the earthly plane is inevitable, uncertainty even more so. We cannot know what tomorrow holds for us, but we know what awaits us at the end of our days. Peter offers the perfect metaphor after retelling the events of the Transfiguration. He advises his reader that this message is essential, and that “you will do well to be attentive to it, as to a lamp shining in a dark place.” As we navigate our uncertain and unpredictable lives, our respective dark places, may we all have the courage to attend to the lamp, to the “dazzling” brightness of eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven.
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