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- Guard of the Heart and Welcoming Prayer Practices
Today’s reading talks of a tree, stretching out its roots to the stream. I can be close to that living water but hesitate to stretch my roots into it. Perhaps, I am fearing transformation.
Also, the reading talks of living prayer. This morning I read a piece by Richard Rohr describing prayer as abiding in our deepest home and our widest consciousness. That tells me that I can be deeply aware of the presence of the divine and, at the same time, be conscious of this world I live in, with all of its troubles and possibilities.
“A change of course for the whole people”. It seems that – as a whole people – we have been thrust into the deep waters of the pandemic. Wave after wave of unpredictability. When we finally arrive on shore, how will be different? How will our course have been changed?
Our parish council met last week as part of the synodal process. Although we did not use the term “mythic membership”, each of us spoke of the confinement of our parish’s and our institutional church’s awareness. One by one, we spoke of our deep desire to break out of this confinement, to find our true voice, to risk moving past our comfortable identities. The pandemic had moved each of us to seek new expressions of our faith and to join more diverse communities. This was an important step to a new vision of church.
In the Old Testament, “ The people weep when they listen to the Law”. In the Psalm, “The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul. “. The law that we live by is a moral code, clear yet loving and compassionate. As we spend time with this law, in silence, we allow it to speak to us in the here and now. As Jesus said, “Today this passage is fulfilled in your presence”. “I came to make all things new. “. The law: comforting in its permanence, challenging in its living.
“How does your concern affect me?” Why should we care about the people of Tonga, the small island nation near Fiji ? Nearly a week ago, an immense volcanic eruption buried the country in ash, flooded its many islands and cut the underwater cable that delivered internet service. Ships from Fiji and New Zealand are en route with clean water, food and other supplies. We might consider the country “poor”, with little money and few of the resources we call essential. However, the people are rich in tradition and compassion They provide a living example of mutual caring and respect. Some of us have come to know them through those who have come here, often to earn a living as caregivers Let us pray that the essential resources are provided to them so that they might recover and continue to be an example of how to be a loving presence in the world
”There is no other”. They live in cars, trailers, tents. Along the river, on city streets, in parking lots. In the capital city of the richest state in the richest country, 195 of them died in 2021. Often alone and unhoused. They cry to be seen, to be valued, to be not “the other” but one of us. Can we embrace them with our love, enfolding them into our common humanity? They will be at the center of my silence this week.
“You can be anything you want to be. “. These words, spoken to me by my Dad when I was 12 years old, have stayed with me. It was an unusual statement – from a native Nebraskan in the late 1950s. I have carried that message through my life, even when the path was rocky or confusing. I imagine that Jesus carried the words he heard from his Father into his ministry, into the Garden, onto to Calvary and into the resurrection. As I reflect on my life, I have realized that my Dad had been a conduit for God’s word.
Betsy. Betsy Rock. I learned a few days ago that she had died at age 69. I met Betsy when she was a guest at Interfaith Shelter in Albany NY. She said that she had been living with her grandmother in northern NY state until she was presented with a one way ticket to Albany and told to never come back. Eventually she obtained social security benefits and found a studio apartment. She had little formal education, could read very little and did not write except for her name. She taught me so much and took joy in the simplest of things. She loved to give people things, even when she did not know them. She advised me that I would be much happier as a blond?. She taught me more than I could ever have learned from books. I have a whole collection of Betsy stories.
This year of the pandemic has been like a tomb. A time of isolation. A time of darkness. A time of transformation. We contemplate all that has shaped us this year and see the Divine at work. Slowly. Gradually. Making us into a more compassionate people. Time and again, God visits the people, inviting a slowing down, a letting go so that the old ways of selfishness are replaced by a willingness to share the Divine abundance with our hurting world. Let us not miss this opportunity.
The All Pervading Presence is manifested in many forms. A rainbow. A sunset. A person. Always be on the alert.
Today we listen to the story of Jesus as he reaches out and touches a person in need of healing. During this time of pandemic, many of us have been unable to touch our loved ones in their final hours. Today, two of the participants are grieving. Each had just lost a special person and had been unable to touch that person. By the grace of God, we reached beyond time and space to touch these two gently and lovingly. As our time together ended, I sat at my table, tears streaming down my face. Once again, I have experienced the presence of this “ virtual” community in new and surprising ways.
The comments made here and during our Zoom sharing often open up new windows to the mystery we live in and to my own soul. I know my life was very much influenced by the Civil Rights Movement, its rootedness in God and it’s courage to speak the truth and act from it. Much of my work focused on faith based efforts aimed at economic justice. As I now spend more time in silence, I feel like a dancer who has reached the still point. All of the lessons learned in the dance of my life are still spinning and slowly unraveling. Word of the Week has been part of the process. I know that my inner truth has been formed by a certain time in history and how I chose to respond to it. Yet, there are bigger and deeper truths that arise. My task is to be quiet and let God be the guide. Yes. The world in its present form is passing away. My safe harbors and clear paths have disappeared. But I trust in a new vision, the one being created moment by moment. With gratitude for all of you.
<p style=”text-align: left;”>Today we listen to the story of Samuel and Eli. Eli the elder helps the young Samual identify the voice of God . In My life there have been people like Eli who have helped me find the voice of God amid the cacophony of voices. And I believe that we can each be an Eli for one another, especially as we share communal silence and sacred reflections. I am grateful for each of you.</p>
Today we are reminded that the Jesus of history and the Christ of all time join us in the waters of our lives. As we recall the frightening events of January 6, we trust that we are not alone in these murky waters of our country. Although the violent acts were not committed by all of us, we must admit that we each share the guilt. Each of us has muddied the waters of our communal lives. We have not always abided by the public guidelines meant to protect the vulnerable among us. We have failed to speak out against our civil and religious institutions when they have remained silent in the face of racism, poverty and white privilege. So, let us stand together in thus murky water, asking for forgiveness and for the waters of new life. And listen to that voice – both from afar and from wi<u>thin, “You are my beloved”. </u>
Today we hear of self interest run amok, of a king so protective of his power that he kills babies. In contrast, we hear of the divine , embodied in a refugee child and recognized by lowly shepherds. We are given a choice. We can act out of self interest, jeopardizing all that is precious to us. Or we can trust the light, follow it through the chaos and help create a global community of compassion.
