Flowers and Cemeteries

The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever (Isaiah 40:8).

The past several months have been very stressful. MCC has not been immune from the global economic crisis. Last fall we were told that we should plan for a flat budget in 2009 but it soon became clear that we actually needed to make significant cuts. In the end we cut to our core budget in India by 15% and we also had to make substantial budget cuts in Nepal and Afghanistan.

On top of that, Ruth ran into a bureaucratic snafu during a routine visa renewal and had to make a quick trip back to the United States to get a new visa. It threw her work schedule completely out of whack during a very busy time. We all pitched in to help and she returned two weeks later with a new visa. One silver lining in the fiasco was that she was able to attend the one year birthday party for our grand-twins when she was home.

The fact that I didn’t write a blog post during the past several months is an indicator of how crazy our lives have been. I didn’t feel inspired to write even when I did have a little extra time. I hope the somewhat morbid topic of this post isn’t an indicator of lingering trauma. It actually draws on a thoroughly delightful Sunday spent with or friends Carolyn and Richard Heggen when they were in Kolkata following a Tsunami relief workshop.

Our day began at a flower show at the horticultural garden in Kolkata. It was an oasis of beauty and tranquility that refreshed our spirits in this overgrown and polluted city. There’s something about the ephemeral nature of flowers that adds to their beauty. They have such a fragile existence. I want to reflect more deeply on the way the prophet Isaiah related the fleeting life of grass and flowers to the eternal word of God.

After spending the morning at the flower show we grabbed a late lunch and decided to walk back to our apartment. That’s when we poked our heads into the old British Cemetery on South Park Street. The cemetery was opened in 1767 and the last tombs were erected around 1830. The first thing that impressed us was the huge size of most of the tombs. The next was how young most of the people were who are buried here. It’s as though the tombs they built were a way to reassure themselves that they had indeed lived.

Many had some connection with the British East India Company. Quite a few died in their twenties and thirties in tragic circumstances involving sickness, war, and mishaps on the sea. I couldn’t help wondering about the push and pull factors that had drawn them so far away from their native land.

One tomb that especially stood out was that of Elizabeth Jane Barwell who died in 1776 (the year of American independence) when she was only twenty-three years old. Her husband was a council member of the East India Company. I wonder about her social background in England. Was coming to India a way to escape poverty and find a new social position? Was she an adventurer who wanted to see the world? Was she able to adapt to her new home or was she terribly lonely and homesick during her brief time here?

Another striking reality is that this once grand cemetery had recently been completely run down and overgrown with vegetation. It served as a shelter for homeless people and a hideout for robbers who lived in the tombs for several decades after Indian independence in 1947. No one, not even the British, had much interest in maintaining it. It has since been cleaned up and partially restored but still needs lots of work. It feels like a dilapidated relic of a bygone era and perhaps that’s how it should be.

Visiting the British cemetery could lead one to despair over the futility of life and all our efforts. Like the writer of Ecclesiastes, one could conclude that all is vanity. But it doesn’t affect me in that way. I actually find hope in the realization that life is short. It gives me less interest in the turf battles we’re continually fighting. It gives me added perspective on our notions that the things we’re engaged in right now are absolutely crucial. And it gives me a desire to be more deeply rooted in the eternal wisdom of God. My prayer is that such rootedness will give me greater ability to free myself from the petty obsessions that often rule our efforts and relationships. I find serenity in thinking of my life as a fragile flower connected to the eternal word of God.