The worst thing we ever did was put God in the sky out of reach pulling the divinity from the leaf, sifting out the holy from our bones, insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement through everything we’ve made a hard commitment to see as ordinary, stripping the sacred from everywhere to put in a cloud man elsewhere, prying closeness from your heart. The worst thing we ever did was take the dance and the song out of prayer made it sit up straight and cross its legs removed it of rejoicing wiped clean its hip sway, its questions, its ecstatic yowl, its tears. The worst thing we ever did is pretend God isn’t the easiest thing in this Universe available to every soul in every breath. by Chelan Harkin This poem was read during a weekly poetry group which has been meeting on Zoom since March 2020. We have been touched and healed, comforted and inspired, by now thousands of poems. But none more powerful than this, I think. I have been haunted, especially recently, by the institutionalization o

  St. Augustine said: We come to God not by navigation, but by love. This seems very wise to me. Somehow we keep falling back on navigational charts, analytical spreadsheets, and datapoints! As the poet said: Old maps no longer work! at least not when journeying with God through life. And not when emerging from pandemics! Love is one of those invisible forces which does guide. Love is never wrong even though it can lead us into difficult places. Love sometimes feels to me like a radioactive isotope, tiny, radiant, powerful and magnetic. As we journey then we might pause and deeply breathe the love, in and out. It may just be a more reliable compass. May love be our guide.

  I stumbled upon this poem by Denise Levertov the other day and then it appeared in another’s email. I decided to pay attention!   Flickering Mind Lord, not you, it is I who am absent. At first belief was a joy I kept in secret, stealing alone into sacred places: a quick glance, and away — and back, circling. I have long since uttered your name but now I elude your presence. I stop to think about you, and my mind at once like a minnow darts away, darts into the shadows, into gleams that fret unceasing over the river's purling and passing. Not for one second will my self hold still, but wanders anywhere, everywhere it can turn. Not you, it is I am absent. You are the stream, the fish, the light, the pulsing shadow, you the unchanging presence, in whom all moves and changes. How can I focus my flickering, perceive at the fountain's heart the sapphire I know is there? + Denise Levertov I had not considered the word “flickering” much before. It seems just right, hopeful, as much a

  “Overwhelming” is a word which I may have heard daily over the last two years. At their worst, overwhelmings paralyze, injure, and confuse. They knock us off course or at least off the course we thought we ought be on. And yet as I take stock of some of the experiences and learnings from the last two years, I cannot help but feel that there is something valuable and formative in the overwhelmings of the pandemics. And I am trying to discern what they might be… In his book The Shape of Living, theologian David Ford introduces his theory of shapes of living as emerging from the overwhelmings of life: sex, money, war, crashes, disease, death…To his list I now add pandemics: viral and of social injustice.  What shapes are our lives taking now? Have we closed in on ourselves? Are we emerging with tentative stop and start like hyphenated fits? Are we racing to a “top” because we feel we must before the next “crisis” occurs? I am working on a slow gentle arc of a shape. One which feels like

  Blessed be God who animates our lives and calls us to question and to understand radically subversive ways of leadership. AMEN The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for many. These critical words come at the height of Jesus’ conversation with/lecture to the disciples who are grappling with greatness, letting go of their own notions of such and embracing or living into God’s greatness offered. In fact if we take a larger view of the last few weeks this is the third time the disciples have grossly misunderstood holy greatness! Yet we are somewhat consoled because three is a magic number in the Bible. Jesus has been very patient with their continued misunderstandings. In this Gospel passage He challenges them in the face of their selfish requests to dig deeper and enter a new understanding of what following Jesus means, what the implications of going to the cross are, and whose ultimate leadership and authority is at issue: not theirs or any

                        For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in its Human Feet Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop. Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control. Open the door, then close it behind you. Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean. Give it back with gratitude. If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back. Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire. Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the guardians who have known you before time, who will be there after time. They sit before the fire that has been there without time. Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters. Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people who accompany you. Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought down upon them. Don

  “Today maple sap flows like a stream of water with only a trace of sweetness to remind the people both of possibility and of responsibility.” Robin Wall Kimmerer   adaptation from oral tradition in Braiding Sweetgrass I am wondering where and how we might be having this same experience. It seems so important and so right. Living water with a trace of sweetness, a reminder of joy and love, also reminds us of care and stewardship.   I often find myself pondering possibility and response-ability. To enter that space requires a pause, albeit fueled by wonder. Thursday I paused on the side of a road which ran along the Housatonic. I was already feeling a little tingly as the bright blue sky had dramatically pushed a dense fog away. So the water was glistening as it flowed over silky rocks. I noticed two fly-fisherpeople upstream seemingly enveloped in the moment. Their movements were graceful and focused.   Grace, attention, living water, and wonder seemed to be the ingredients which came

  the dead sea Blessed be God who animates our lives and teaches us how to be the peace which passes all understanding. AMEN The Far Mosque by Rumi The place that Solomon made to worship in, called the Far Mosque, is not built of earth and water and stone, but of intention and wisdom and mystical conversation and compassionate action. Every part of it is intelligent and responsive to every other. The carpet bows to the broom. The door knocker and the door swing together like musicians. This heart sanctuary does exist, though it cannot be described. Solomon goes there every morning and gives guidance with words, with musical harmonies, and in actions, which are the deepest teaching. A prince is just a conceit, until he does something with his generosity. These beautiful images which Rumi offers assisted me in finding some meaning in a difficult and cumbersome passage from the Gospel of Mark. Let me explain: After continuing to lecture the disciples about true greatness and awarene

  Dearest Emma and Henry: This is a very special morning. For you, for our family and friends, for these witnesses here today and for the life of the Church. I have been blessed to baptize your siblings and after a long wait now you! It occurred to me that the candidates when they are young like you don’t really understand what is going on and while your parents and godparents are superb!, maybe someday you will enjoy this letter as your own faith develops. I would like to tell you a story, well I would like to tell you many stories, but just this one favorite this morning which will hopefully mean something to you someday and even remind you of your baptism in this most beautiful setting. A young boy was walking through his town when he came upon a sculptor banging and chipping at a piece of marble. It was a large slab of rock and the boy wondered why all the effort? A few weeks later this same boy wandered down this same road and was caught up short when he saw in the spot wh

  Mr. Rogers is famous for guidance during crisis in saying “look for the helpers”. This mantra has certainly been at the forefront of many people’s thoughts during the last 18 months or more. And more often than not, “helpers” turned up in the form of front line workers, teachers, therapists, and farmers, to name but a few! I am blessed by some helpers who became more evident and supportive than expected when I looked, like my mother from a distance, a zoom poetry group which met every week since mid-March 2020, and people who responded from afar via email or FaceTime serendipitously. I got the sense that so many people not only have needs but need to be needed.   I think of these helper blessings often and recently have done so in connection with my new fascination with the understories of trees. I found myself caught up by the notion of symbiotic relationships, in biology and in humanity.   Symbiosis is defined as the interaction of two different organisms living in close physical a