A Candle Is Lit

WaterFire – Providence, RI – Beacon of Hope

Night falls
A gong sounds
Soft celestial music plays
A man in black lights a candle
A journey begins

A candle is lifted
and with it, a loved one
a spouse, a child, a parent,
a neighbor, a friend
a community
is also lifted and carried along
gently, tenderly
we are all carried
together

One candle becomes every candle
ever lit against the darkness
each candle, is a life
every precious life ever lost
through each candle
for a moment
we are all connected
together
in spirit

A journey is shared
each journey a farewell
as a candle is carried
measured steps
marking the memories of a life
together we weep
and mourn
and remember
all those lost
but never forgotten

A pause
a crescendo of angel voices
the light is held up high
a beacon in the night
an inspiration for hope
an invitation to heal
some deep broken place
begins to mend

A journey ends
A candle finds its place
One among many
A life is honored
A spirit flies free
Our spirits are lifted

In the darkness
something is lost
and, something is found
peace and comfort
compassion and beauty
a moment of calm in the chaos
safe harbor in the storm
A journey ends
Home at last

Night falls
A gong sounds
soft celestial music plays
a man in black lights a candle
shining our way
through the darkness.

Thank you, Barnaby.

Thank you, WaterFire.

 

Recognizing Jesus

Luke 24: 13 – 35 – On the Road to Emmaus

When was the last time you caught a glimpse of Jesus?  Our Easter stories are filled with Jesus sightings so this is a good time to try to be alert for Jesus at work in the world.

When I was at my first church in West Roxbury, one of my favorite signs of spring were the bucket men.  I’m afraid I don’t know what else to call them.  As the snow disappeared, there was a group of black men who appeared at the busy intersection of Rt. 1 and the VFW Highway.  They wore suits or dress shirts and ties, covered by bright yellow and orange vests.  Their colorful spring plumage was vivid against the not-yet-green of the still bleak landscape.

They carried large, plastic buckets that said, “Feed Hungry Children.” I didn’t know who they were.  I simply trusted there was a good purpose that had them standing for hours in the cold wind, the drizzling rain, and the spitting, sleety mess that we often call spring around here.

They would approach each waiting car with a smile and a cheerful wave, moving easily along the line of closed windows on either side of them.  I imagined person after person staring straight ahead in their comfy climate controlled cars waiting impatiently for the light to change so they could speed along their way.

I always opened my window as soon as I saw them so they would know they would find welcome along the way.  I scrambled for loose change in my cup holder or whatever bills I had stuffed in my wallet.  Then I waited for a man with a bucket to come to my window and give me a smile.

That particular day, as I dropped all the coins I had through the rectangle hole cut in the lid of the bucket, I said, “You are one of my sure signs of spring! Thank you for what you are doing for children in need.”  He grinned at me and said, “No one’s ever told me that.  I like being a sign of spring! You take care now! God bless you!”

Perhaps still raw from a hectic Holy week, some gush of emotion, some broken remnant of Easter Alleluia, came rising out of me all of a sudden, and my eyes welled with tears.  Around the lump in my throat I said, “I can’t remember the last time someone blessed me, thank you.”

Suddenly serious, he looked at me from the cold, drizzling rain as I sat in my comfy climate controlled car, and he said, “Ma’am, don’t you let anybody ever steal your joy.”  He leaned closer and smiled at me.  I smiled back at him through the rainbow of tears in my eyes.

And the world stopped for a moment.

And then, BAM! There it was! God’s kingdom!

Not in the handful of scrounged coins, or even in the bucket for a worthy cause.  God’s kingdom was, and is, in that silent place between strangers who have just recognized that they are related…that silent place where you suddenly feel connected to someone else heart to heart…that sacred place beyond words where you feel the spiritual threads that weave all creation into one living organism.

God’s kingdom is to be found in that consecrated space between heartbeats….that holy place of unexpected Blessing…

He leaned back and nodded to me. He tapped the back of my hand with his finger and moved on. I watched him through my rear-view mirror, shuffling down the narrow path between cars, waving and smiling.

I hoped to see another open window welcoming him along his way, but there wasn’t one.  I watched as he vanished from my sight, praying…open…open…open…

Then the light changed.

It was time to move on…..

As I watched him carrying out his ministry in the world, in the cold and wet, I thought, “He blessed me?”  And I thought, “Hosanna, blessed is HE…blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord with a blessing on his lips, healing in his words, and love for a stranger in his heart.”

I headed off realizing I was driving on the road to Emmaus that morning…

…and I’d just run into Jesus with a bucket in his hand.

 

Breathing Space In the Wilderness

Matthew 4:1 – 11

“Then Jesus was driven by the Spirit into the wilderness, where he was tempted.”

Someone recently likened this time of quarantine to Jesus’ time in the wilderness.  Wilderness for me, is not crowded confinement and fear.  This time of quarantine is a time when the escaped chaos monster is freely prowling the world while we huddle behind closed doors.  This time, is the time for painting our doors with lamb’s blood, hoping the pestilence stalking our home town streets will pass over us and those we love.

For me, wilderness is free and deep; wind and rain; hot and cold; dusk and dawn.  Wilderness is a without and within space, an in-between place, where dark and light melt together, blurring familiar landscape until it becomes unknown terrain; blending shadow and light, muting sound, creating a hushed anticipation of something…

….something…

…something…

…coming…

Light on the way?

Or,

Darkness falling?

Wilderness is a place to be ‘me.’  Unveiled.  Curtain torn from top to bottom.  Revealing that God can’t be contained, only sought after, in our wilderness places.  Wilderness is where we wrestle through the long night, ponder God’s word in our heart, and face our demons while carried by our angels….walking wounded….and blessed.

My most cherished wilderness place is a mountain top clearing on the way to the Zealand Hut in the White Mountains.  It is a stopping place.  A breathing space.  A glimpse of God’s face.

Driven by the Spirit, I would visit that place in the bleak mid-winter, stopping and standing in the thigh high, unbroken snow.

Calmed by creaking birch trees,

Inhaling the intoxicating perfume of sun-warmed pine,

Soothed by the soughing wind in pine branches, a whispered lullabye.

No cars, no lights, no hustle, no bustle.

No people.

Just me.

Just God’s creation.

Just…

…God.

 

Thoughts and Prayers

We are once again sending out our thoughts and prayers to victims of senseless, horrific violence. Some people have expressed their impatience with the seeming uselessness of prayers. I have colleagues who have expressed how tired they are of vigils, how they feel too discouraged and disheartened to pray.

But that is exactly when we most need to pray.  Prayer is how we make space in our hearts for the spirit to be at work. Prayer is how we welcome Jesus into our midst.  Prayer opens our hearts to our neighbors and to those who are suffering, so that we will be moved to seek how to help, how to bring change, how to reach out.

Prayer is how we make space for God in the midst of the pain, and confusion, and chaos in our lives and in our world. God certainly doesn’t need our prayers. God knows what is in our hearts even before we do. But we need to pray, because prayer shapes us and molds us.

Praying orients our attention and our focus on God.  Just as flowers always orient on the sun – stretching and bending in order to grow in the direction of the light – prayer helps us to stretch and bend so that we grow in the direction of God’s light.

In his book, “Living Prayer,” Robert Benson writes, “It is prayer that can change us, make no mistake about it. The changes may go unnoticed for a long time, but they will come.”

Let us never cease offering our thoughts and prayers to each other and for each other, or ignorance, fear, and hopelessness will win. Change takes time, but change is always possible.

So, let us pray!

Let us pray without ceasing!

Let us pray,

Together!

 

For Our Muslim Friends and Neighbors

(Many thanks to Rabbi Ron Fish of Temple Israel of Sharon for so beautifully articulating what so many of us cannot put into words.  It is my privilege to serve and minister in a community with such a close and caring Interfaith Clergy group.)

Dear members of the Muslim community of Sharon,

In the name of all that is good and merciful,

Our diverse interfaith community is shaken by the scenes of murder and terror directed at the Muslim community of Christchurch, New Zealand.

Worshipers gathered in fellowship and community at the al Noor and Linwood Mosques during Friday prayers. These houses of worship, like our own religious communities, were filled with people who had come from diverse backgrounds. Their prayers called for a world united in peace and justice, reflecting the brotherhood and sisterhood which exists within the walls of all of our sanctuaries. Yet they were met with murderous rage and racist hatred. A place and time of peace inexplicably became a blood stained killing field. For them, and for our broken world, we weep with you.

The terrorists who seek to disrupt the ties which bind the human family together can murder innocents. But they cannot divide us. Whatever our background or religious faith, we are all brothers and sisters. We grieve with you. We join you in our prayers for peace. We raise our voices with you in the demand that leaders must protect every house of prayer and every innocent human life. We call upon all human beings to expand the circle of human compassion and love, rather than fear and suspicion.

May the Source of life and peace bless you, and all our brothers and sisters.
Inshallah.

Your loving friends of the Sharon interfaith clergy

I Lift You Up

On the night that would be his last, Jesus prayed for those who had shared his journey, who would now be journeying on without him, “O God, I lift up to You those You have given me.”

One of our greatest gifts in life are the people God gives us as we journey along the Way. The people we cherish, the people we worry about, and even the people who annoy us. But the even greater gifts are the people who cherish us, the people who worry about us, and the people we ultimately annoy that still put up with us.

We have embarked on our Lenten journey into the wilderness. When Jesus sent his disciples out, he instructed them to bring nothing except a journey companion. Jesus sends them out in twos so that they will have to depend upon each other, and upon the kindness and generosity of strangers for a meal, for a drink of water, for a place to stay, for whatever they might need along the Way.

Jesus sends them out in pairs, so that when one falters, the other can help. When one is lost, the other can seek the way. When one is discouraged, the other can hold faith for both of them for a while. That’s what the company of believers does – we hold onto each other, console each other, encourage and embolden each other, and sometimes, we even believe for each other. There is one more thing we do that sets us apart as people of faith, we pray for each other.

I am re-reading a favorite book, called “Living Prayer,” by Robert Benson. In it, he talks about our occasional difficulty and discomfort with praying. What are the “right” words? What is the “right” thing to pray for? What is the “right” way to pray? He shares this story of one man’s answer to those questions.

“I remember Charles saying…that he hardly knew how to pray for himself, much less anyone else. ‘So I just say their names,’ he said, ‘and sort of picture them in the last place I saw them. Then I am quiet for as long as I can be, just sort of lifting them up in my mind, looking at their face, trying to see what it holds. And, for a while, it seems that I am carrying a part of whatever they are having to carry.’”

Let us lift up in our prayers those who have been given to us, and to whom we have been given. Each time we reach out our hands to each other, or lean on each other, or cry on each other’s shoulders, or carry each other in prayer…the kingdom of God is at hand.

“O God, I lift up to You those You have given me.”

Breaking Down the Barriers

 

Ephesians 2:11 – 22

How many of you remember the Berlin wall being torn down in 1989?

I remember being glued to my television set as that symbol of division and isolation came down. I remember people swarming the wall, climbing up on it and dancing along the top. Some of them jumped down into the arms of the crowd waiting on the other side.

I sat enthralled watching the reunions of families and neighbors that had been cut off from each other without warning, that hadn’t seen each other in decades, that were now rushing into one another’s embrace.

I saw soldiers that the day before had been enemies patrolling the wall with guns, smiling as they joined together with citizens of both sides in the work of tearing it down. It was a giddy, exhilarating experience of freedom and re-union unfolding before me.

That’s the level of celebration, triumph, and reunion, that the author of Ephesians is trying to convey in this letter – the idea that through Jesus Christ there are no more dividing walls.  That we can all unite as one family, that we can meet and embrace one another because Christ is the bridge across the barriers that separate us.

Christ has come to “create in himself one new humanity…, thus making peace.” A person can’t be at peace with God if they are not at peace with their neighbor.
We are a collective entity – like the Quaking Aspen trees in Colorado.  They appear to be separate trees but their roots are completely connected making them a single organism –

It is the same with us, a treasure of individual uniqueness with roots that are deeply interconnected – what impacts one, impacts all.

Unfortunately, our world is full of walls. Everywhere we go, there are fences, gates, and partitions…all aimed at keeping something or someone in and keeping something or someone out.

Don’t get me wrong, some walls can be very useful: the walls in our homes protect us against wind and rain, walls keep livestock safely in and predators out; walls help us separate spaces and improve organization and efficiency.

But we all know that walls, both literal and spiritual, can lead to grief, division and even violence and war. Kevin Baker, in an article called “Wrecking Crew” says, “All walls serve a purpose, but not all walls serve the purposes of God.”

That is the promise and challenge for us today. The more closely we follow Jesus, the more we turn our lives toward God, the more we have to ask ourselves, “what walls need to be torn down in order to re-unite us all as one people? To see ourselves as one humanity? To join together as the brothers and sisters that we are?”

Where are the walls in your life? Where does something need to be torn down to make way for reconciliation and peace? Who is standing on the outside of our walls, looking in?

If we look at the world with God’s eyes, we won’t see state or town lines, or countries, or property lines, or plot plans. We won’t hear dialects, or different languages, or see different races, or kingdoms, or political parties.

If we look at the world with God’s eyes, we will see only one creation, filled with creatures that are interdependent, that are connected by spirit, that are beautiful in their incredible diversity.

This letter to the Ephesians concludes, “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.  In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

“Built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

What does God’s dwelling place look like?

I suggest when you get home, you look in the mirror…then look at your neighbor, look at your spouse, your parent, your child, and every stranger on the street.

Look at the world around you, the creatures that delight and amaze us, the plants that astound and sustain us – that is where God dwells. We are God’s dwelling place and our dwelling place is in God.

God’s dwelling place is not a building made with human hands, God’s dwelling place is created within human hearts united in love, united in peace, and united through Christ.  Christ tears down our walls and builds us up by reminding us we are all valued and loved by God. We are all related in and through the Holy Spirit.

It is important for us participate in knocking down all the walls that divide us. The walls that are not serving God’s purposes. So that we will no longer be strangers and aliens, locking ourselves in …

…locking each other out…

And we will finally see the world with God’s eyes… one creation, interdependent, connected by the spirit, all equal, all beloved citizen’s and members of the household of God…

Built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

 

Additional note: As I was writing this, I kept hearing these words of Sir Elton John from his song titled, “Breaking Down Barriers,”

I recall how it used to be
In my younger days
I built a wall all around my heart
To keep the pain away
I built it tall and I built it wide
I left no room for doubt
Your love still found its way inside
And couldn’t get back out

I’m breaking down the barriers
Making up my mind
I’m breaking down the barriers of time
I’m taking down the barriers
And loving what I find
I’m breaking down the barriers that lie
Between your love and mine

Did Jesus Dream?

Did Jesus dream while he lay in the tomb?

Did God send him dreams of clouds and glory
to make him sigh and smile?

Or, did Jesus dream of simpler things

Freshly baked bread
warm and fragrant

charcoal baked fish
crisp and tender

warm hands holding his
laughter
tender friends

Was there the comfort of murmuring voices
he could almost recognize
comforting to hear

a relief not to have to answer

Not just yet.

Was it cold in the tomb when Jesus woke up?

Dark?

Certainly.

Or, did his own radiance bathe the hand-hewn stone
with light

Did he know right away
where he was?
who he was?

Did he remember what had happened?

Or, did God let him lay awhile luxuriating
in the safety and comfort of the linens swaddling him
once again a new born babe.

Was there a moment of panic when he opened his eyes?

Where am I?
Who am I?
What happened?

O yeah…

O yeah…

I remember…

Them.

Will they,

remember

me?

Was there a shuddery moment of fully awake now
or,
did he shrug it all away along with the linens so carefully enshrouding his body?

Was he angry?

For a moment?

or, simply relieved to wake up

alone

at last

safe

in the dark tomb.

No reaching hands
no pain, no suffering
not even his own.

Did he draw a long breath in newly resurrected lungs
whispering a prayer of thanksgiving and praise
exhaling a sigh
of release.

Was he happy?

To still be here?

or was he longing to be there…
anywhere…
but here…

with us.

Did he look forward to the looks on his friend’s faces
when he would show up?

SURPRISE!

TOLD YOU!

YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT WHEN I TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED TO ME
WHILE I LAY DREAMING!

YOU

WON’T

BELIEVE

IT

WILL YOU?

DO WE?

Alleluia!

Christ is Risen!

 

And So I Walk…

 

The platform at Woodland station was crowded as my daughter and I waited for our ride into Boston to join in the Women’s March for justice. When the door of the overly packed D train opened, the irate driver shouted out the door, “Trump is already elected! What is the point of all of this?!”

This is my reply…

There are still hungry people in this great country
Pinched faces pressed against the warm cheery windows
of the latest trendy restaurant
Not knowing when they will eat again.

And so I walk.

There are still discarded people in this great country
sleeping on cold concrete sidewalks, living in dirty alleys
calling collapsing refrigerator boxes “home.”

And so I walk.

There are still women and children in this great country
who are afraid in their own homes
who live with the threat of violence not from without…
but from within.

And so I walk.

There are people different from me in an infinity of ways in this great country:
different skin color, eye color, hair color, education, gender identity, religious practices and beliefs, heritage, language, upbringing, food preferences, skills, talents, and perspective…

…like snowflakes, each unique…

…all the same human family…

yet, too many are afraid to leave their homes or walk the streets of OUR country…

One

afraid

is too many.

And so I walk.

It’s time!
Time for quiet, decent comfortable sideliners like me
to stand up for what we believe in.

Time to stand up
and be counted.

Even though it takes me a minute or two
to get to my feet these days.
Feet which hurt
Back that aches
Knees that pop
Ankles that crack
Feeling every one of the extra 40 pounds I carry.

And yet, like Tolstoy’s guardian Ents,
those ancient tree shepherds,
Creaking…

I rise.

I am walking.

And the march has only just begun.

The threat of oppression already tests my spirit and my stamina.
The weight of the world slows my steps.
I am only one.
I grow weary.
I fear that on the long road ahead
I will falter or fall.

Then I look at my daughter
Walking at my side
I look at my sisters and my brothers
Spread as far as I can see.

And I remember…

WE are walking

Together

Stronger

TOGETHER!

Stronger than fear.
Stronger than apathy.
Stronger than hate and prejudice and cynicism
and selfishness and cruelty and greed
and injustice and oppression

and ignorance.

STRONGER!

Walking together for justice
Walking together in Jesus’ footsteps
We will not grow weary.
We will not grow faint.

One body

Stronger

Walking together.

And so,

WE rise!

And so….

WE walk!

I Didn’t Know…

I didn’t know the last time I talked to my Mom that it would be the last time.

I can remember everything we talked about because, after she died, I found a note tucked in her calendar – her “brain” she used to call it.  The note was a list of things to talk to me about, so she wouldn’t forget.

Now I won’t forget either.

She asked me about our recent trip to New Jersey.

It had been awful! Pouring rain and stuck in traffic for HOURS with a 4 month old baby girl that wanted to be nursed every one hundred and twenty minutes…

…on the dot.

Hard to do with the baby safely strapped into the back seat facing away from the parents trying so hard to soothe her crying. Desperate, I finally jumped into the back seat…

…did I mention we were STOPPED IN TRAFFIC?

I nursed her while the windows steamed up because of the pouring rain. Sweat and tears were running down my face and from under my arms and my huge swollen, aching breasts, because it was a sweltering, rainy day in July and we were…

…did I mention?

Yeah.
Right.
Stuck.

Mom told me she was glad that I was nursing my daughter and “hanging in there” as it had been a painful, awkward process at first…not at all like the beautiful, perfectly coiffed, slender, woman on the cover of Modern Maternity magazine. She was holding her nursing child gently in her arms, beaming with that glow of motherly ‘bonding’.

Yet another thing we sweaty, straggly, tired, real women can feel like we are failing at.

It’s “natural” – so why does it hurt? Why doesn’t the baby “get” it? Why does it take practice? Why does it involve stacks of pillows, lying awkwardly on your side, or sitting awkwardly in a chair with arms at just the right height. Why does it require being stared at in the Women’s room of the department store because it seems vaguely, (or completely), disgusting to those who have never done it or seen it.

Which seemed to be most of the American women that I encountered.

My Mom said that when she had her babies, the doctor said that formula was “better than mother’s milk. Scientifically formulated to provide all the nutrition that baby needs.” She said that in her day, she just went to sleep and when she woke up, she had a beautiful new baby.

In those first days when she was there helping me with her new granddaughter, she would look at me nursing my daughter and there was a wistful look on her face…a regret…maybe a feeling that “Science” had let her down. In spite of my complaints and discomfort, I had to agree with her.

The last time I talked with my Mom, I didn’t know it would be the last time. I thank God that when she had come to the end of her list of things to talk about, she said,

“I guess that’s all I have to say…but I don’t want to hang up just yet.”

I’m thankful, because on that day, instead of giving her the list of stuff I had to go do, and because her granddaughter was sleeping peacefully, and because I hadn’t talked to her for a few days, and because I loved her so much, I said,

“then let’s not hang up yet.”

I don’t remember what we talked about then.

It wasn’t on her list for me to find…

…two weeks later…

…after she died.

I just remember that I will be grateful all my life, that I sat down and let that conversation flow between us, that I felt that close connection with my Mom who was so far away.

She gave me a parting gift without me knowing it…

…and I hope I gave her one as well…

…even though…

…we didn’t know.