Saturday, August 30, 2014

Sun

I have wanted to resend this post, originally sent May 9, 2006, to include this picture since summer began this year. This morning is still dark, and I am sensing fall more than summer.  I did, however, just eat a piece of a sweet nectarine and have every year.   I find the Dorothy Day quote poignant.  You would think we would have given up war by now.


    
When I was a child, my parents took me on a trip through Central Texas one summer.  One early afternoon, they stopped to visit one of their longtime friends. Her husband had died and she lived alone, outside of some town, with her white cat named Sam. We sat in the kitchen and she served us lunch from her garden - tomatoes, corn, and cucumbers. Everything was sweet and very delicious, and I had never had such a lunch in all my young years. She, her large fluffy white cat, and her garden all seemed so mysterious, so complete. I finally understood sun.  
  
This morning is cloudless and as I look towards the ridge that lies on the other side of the freeway, I sense summer drifting this way. I hope we have nectarines this year, but I must wait. Only the trees and the farmers know. 

  
"There is poverty and hunger and war in the world. And we prepare for more war. There is desperate suffering with no prospect of relief. But we would contribute to the misery and desperation of the world if we failed to rejoice in the sun, the moon, and the stars, in the rivers which surround this island on which we live, in the cool breezes of the bay, in what food we have and in the benefactors God sends." 
Dorothy Day: Selected Writings

Friday, August 29, 2014

Transfiguration

Rehab hospitals, also known as sub-acute or post acute, are very busy places, and I am still not clear how some elders end up living their last years in one.  Most of these hospitals, at least here in the congested bay area, dedicate every possible inch to their physical therapy areas. The allotment of space to dining and activity rooms (usually one in the same) comes in a distant second. 
      
When this re-dedication of space first occurred in one particular hospital, I was quite surprised to be escorted into a very small dining room.  However, at least they did keep the piano (unfortunately not always a given).  Every month Michael, one of the long-term residents, always makes room for me at his table so I can set up communion, and there is always some shuffling that needs to be done so the pianist can actually get to the piano and sit down. Fortunately, the windows in this room give a sense of expansiveness that the actual square footage does not.  We all adjust to make room for one another. Worship always happens.  Christ seems to not be concerned about space. 

Yesterday, as I was reading scripture, I looked up to see Mrs. Tran being brought into the room in her wheel chair. She greeted me with her usual wave and broad toothless grin. She was dressed in a white sweater and she had a white blanket on her lap.  As I waved back, I felt the pope was moving through.      

There is a love that emanates from this woman that her aging, tiny frame cannot hold. In her presence, I experience a sense of timelessness that eases any burden and I find myself lingering with her just to take in the peace. Her body is becoming irrelevant and I do not believe she is concerned much about that. Like in the story of Jesus' transfiguration, God is claiming Mrs. Tran. Also like Jesus, I think God always has.
    
There he was transfigured before them. His face shown like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.
Matthew 17:2



 

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Lesson in Lessening

This morning I woke with the beautiful hymn, "With Joy Draw Water," on my mind.  A very nice way to start the day. Perhaps I should worry less about the drought, and instead learn to trust the well more.   
  
With joy draw water from the spring; salvation's living well. 
The Holy One is in your midst; glad praises sing and tell.    Anne McKinstry   
  
You will draw water with joy 
from the spring of salvation.
And you will say on that day, 
"Thank the LORD...
who has done glorious things, 
proclaim this throughout all the earth.  
Isaiah 12:3-5    
   
   

Monday, August 25, 2014

Incarnation

When I came upon this beautiful chard, I heard the whisper, "This is my body..." I heard the psalmist ask, "Oh, where can I go from your spirit?"  The whisper again:  "Given to you."

A bittersweet moment as I stood before abundant life knowing the drought at that very moment was deepening.  As I eat my muffin topped with ricotta cheese and Soquel avocado California  honey, I pray.  I give thanks for Jesus who is teaching me what bread and wine really are.  And I give thanks to the psalmist who reminds me to be wherever I am, for I can be no where else.   
  
Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence where can I flee?
If I ascend to the heavens, you are there;
if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too.   
 
Psalm 139:7-8   
  
I also give thanks for all of you.   




Sunday, August 24, 2014

Fire and Wind

Bless the LORD, my soul! 
LORD, my God you are great indeed! 
You are clothed in majesty and glory,
robed in light as with a cloak.
You spread out the  heavens like a tent...
You travel on the wings  of the wind. 
You make the winds your messengers; 
flaming fire, your ministers.  
   
Psalm 104:1-4       
 








Friday, August 22, 2014

Spirit of Place

On my walk this morning, I was blessed to see a neighbor I had not seen in several months.  We walked a ways together, and then said our goodbyes in front of her house.  I noticed some beautiful yellow roses growing along side the stairs leading up to her front door. 

"I think that must be an old rose bush.  It was here when we moved in and that was about 15 years ago." I thought of the phrase, "spirit of place," and maybe that is what I have been experiencing these past few months. As I mentioned, San Leandro used to be filled with orchards and family run nurseries.  Tyler also heard that our area used to be known for its poultry farms, but we have not substantiated that story.   Regardless, this does seem to be a fertile land, and once again I found myself grateful for those who came before us.  Those who planted and tended, and then moved on.  While I think this city has made some rather large mistakes by not shepherding its growth more thoughtfully, the spirit of place does seem to quietly endure, and to bless.   
  
It is you who transforms the wilderness into a land full of springs 
You who invites the hungry to live in this good place 
To sow fields, and plant vineyards that yield sweet fruits.  
 
from Psalm 107, translated by Betty Bracha Stone











 
   

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Happiness

This morning as I was setting up in a busy skilled nursing community, I overheard one of the activity assistants invite a staff member from another department to worship.  "Why don't you come to our church service?  We have great services; you will feel better."  Then another assistant added, "You really are welcome."  It wasn't the description of great that made my heart soar,and I certainly did not hear anything about my brilliant preaching.  That is quite okay.  What I celebrate is,  "We. Ours. Welcome."   

Yes. We are church.  Blessed be.

   


 
  
You have turned my mourning into dancing 
You removed my sackcloth and and clothed me with joy, 
that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. 
O God, I will give you thanks forever.  
Psalm 30:11-12

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Wings





If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 
if I settle on the far side of the sea, 
even there your hand will guide me, 
your right hand will hold me fast.   

Psalm 139:9-10

Voices

Recently, a neighbor, who is a member of the Oakland Symphony Chorus, sent out an email advising that the chorus was inviting people to come to an evening dedicated to the singing of American Spirituals. I decided to take part. As an audience member, I was familiar with the work of Dr. Lynne Morrow, the director of the chorus.  I, and no doubt thousands of others find her to be charismatic, deeply gifted and articulate about music and the history of the various styles. In the course of a couple of hours, I laughed, cried, and yes, did manage to sing.  However, the voices weaving around me were so captivating, I occasionally had to pause and simply listen.    

When the evening came to a close, and I was about to drive away, a car came up beside me.  The driver rolled down his window.  He simply sat there smiling and looking at me, so I rolled my window down.  He asked where I was a pastor.  The question surprised me because I had not met him.  As I began to explain my ministries, I suddenly remembered that my car has a clergy sticker.   It is was like one of those moments when a grocery store clerk surprises you by calling you by name, and then you remember you still have your conference name badge on.   
He then surprised me even more by saying, "I have a gift for you."  He gets out and goes to the back of his car.  He returns and hands me a book and tells me that his wife had translated some of the psalms from Hebrew to English.  I was in awe of the unexpected gift, and of the endeavor. The book is entitled, Let us Praise by Betty Bracha Stone.  In the introduction she writes, "In the summer of 2012, I entered into a serious Jewish practice: strenuous introspection and prayer during the month of Elul in preparation for our High Holy Days - Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This was begun with the customary practice of reciting Psalm 27 twice daily."
   
Like many of us who love the psalms, there were tangles and confusion.  The language of the psalms is often beautiful, but also can be strident, divisive, even hateful. Embracing her struggle, she began to do her own translation and interpretation.  I admire that greatly.  Even when reading the psalms in English, most of us translate, interpret, reinterpret, and frankly sometimes just skip over troublesome sections as we grapple with trying to bring the ancient voices forward.   I don't think she jumped over the problems, but she admits she "tampered" a bit with sequence, time, pronouns, meaning, and assumptions.  
  
The result of Stones' work is, I think, a beautiful translation and interpretation of thirty-seven psalms.  I am grateful for the gift, the endeavor, and the simple act of rolling down a window at a time when such action is rarely recommended.   
   
   
You, Oh, God, have grabbed me out of nowhere
And have put Your hand upon me. 
And so I am formed.   
Your designs are without number 
And there is no limit to them
Their number is greater than the sand. 
from Psalm 139, Let Us Praise, Betty Bracha Stone  
     
Friends, I am putting more and more of my photographs and writings on my blog.
Please consider following it.  The photographs seem to be made for it.   I will, of course, continue to send emails, and much appears on facebook.  I thank you for being present in whatever way you prefer.  I will continue to try to do the same!









Friends, I am putting more and more of my photographs and writings on my blog.

Please consider following it.  The photographs seem to be made for it.   I will, of course, continue to send emails, and much appears on facebook.  I thank you for being present in whatever way you prefer.  I will continue to try to do the same!

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Bee and Nectar




I led worship today in a home just off of the downtown area of San Leandro. I spotted sunflowers about a block away. The garden is overgrown, much to the happiness of the sunflowers and some chubby bees. In the center of many of the blossoms were tiny drops of sticky nectar.

Bouganvillea II


Sightings

I have written of Jill more than once.  She is blind and has been since she was a very young woman.  Now in her later years she has also grown deaf, and arthritis is taking a toll.  Yet, most of the time
she continues to come to worship, and enthusiastically replies yes when I ask (well, kind of yell in her ear) if she would like to take communion. She periodically reminds me that as a child she saw a vision of the Blessed Mother at Lourdes.  Jill asked her if she could avoid going blind.  Alas, the Blessed Mother told Jill "with her eyes" that she would go blind.  This vision has sustained her life and her faith, even though she did not get the answer for which she hoped nor the life she had dreamed.  However, she received so much more: the knowledge that she was loved.  "I see in another way."   

The last time I saw Jill she told me that she was glad that I knew her story.  I, too, am glad for that sacred gift.  While walking a few mornings ago, I was intrigued by a gentle pink light at the the end of a neighbor's driveway.  I have always loved Bougainvillea for its bold purple, red, or dark pink leaves (I understand the the white part is the actual flower).  The plant can grow into a dramatically large and vibrant cascade that covers walls and drapes fences.  Once it is established it is actually fairly hardy even through our periodic freezes.  However, this particular plant is small, and the color very delicate.  I did not take off my shoes, but I knew I was standing on holy ground.  It is impossible to be anywhere else. Perhaps, I, too, am learning to see in another way.  Blessed be.    

Friday, August 15, 2014

Unwinding

In God's loving presence, I unwind the past day, 
starting from now and looking back, 
moment by moment. 
I gather in all the goodness and light in gratitude,
I attend to the shadows and what they say to me,
seeking healing, courage, forgiveness.   
from Sacred Space, The Prayer Book 2014 (page 250)
The Irish Jesuits 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Found

The last lines of the wonderful hymn, "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling," reads "Till' we cast our crowns before Thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise."  When I sing this hymn with the beloved elders, I always tell them that when that day comes, there should be no concern because we will be right where we need to be - in the heart of God's love.  

I thought of this hymn this morning as I took this picture.  Someday, I will dedicate a whole day to simply be among the flowers.  I hope I will have the presence of mind to not wander off on a day when I am scheduled to be somewhere else.  Regardless, do not worry about me.  Just say, "Oh, she is just lost in wonder, love, and praise.  Right where she has longed to be."
    
Let us always remember to enjoy some easy days this summer. Practice casting your crowns now.  They are heavier than you think.   
 
   
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin,  yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.  Matthew 6:28-29

Creation


Seasons

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about seasons.  While we will surely have hot days in September and October, we are definitely in late summer.  The darkness lingers a little longer each morning, but the mid-day light can be quite harsh.  Many plants are looking weary, and even blossoms that look intriguing from a distance often look a bit tattered and worn when viewed up close. Some people are even opting to not tend to their gardens at all because of the drought. At times, I am tempted to daydream about the fecundity of spring.   

Therefore, this morning as I returned from a very slow walk with Ms. Cleo, the elder dog, I was thinking that I surely must have photographed every flowering plant in the neighborhood, and some more than once.  That there was simply nothing new to be seen here.  And then, just a couple of doors from my home, this dahlia came into my view. I laughed. There is an Auntie Mame boldness to it that I needed very much to experience.  I was in danger of starving at the banquet table.
Nature will always have the next to the last word.  Despite our advances in medicine, health care and just about every other field, these lives of ours are temporal, and that is true for all seven plus billion of us.  These bodies simply will not last forever even if we do replace some failing parts.  Therefore, we would be wise to live fully into the season we are in.  The flowers I photographed this morning will soon be gone.  The weather will have its way with us.    

Yet, every time I think I have seen in all there is to see in this small territory in which I reside, something amazing shows up. I think I know why.  It is because the last word always belongs to God.  We can find great comfort and strength in this knowledge, but there is, of course, is a warning as well.  We can domesticate dogs, cats, and even a wild lily.  But not God. God is not predictable and cannot be tamed. For that, I am deeply grateful as I take my place at the table.       
Let us be wise today and give thanks for what is in front of us.  Tomorrow is not ours, and may never be.  Best accept the gift of today and live.      
       
Ten thousand flowers in spring,
the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer,
snow in winter. 
If your mind isn't clouded by
unnecessary things, 
this is the best season of your life.  
Wu-Men 
from Life Prayers, Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon


Lately, I have been thinking a lot about seasons.  While we will surely hot days in September and October, we are definitely in late summer.  The darkness lingers a little longer each morning, but the mid-day light can be quite harsh.  Many plants are looking weary, and even blossoms that look intriguing from a distance often look a bit tattered and worn when viewed up close. Some people are even opting to not tend to their gardens at all because of the drought. At times, I am tempted to daydream about the fecundity of spring.   

Therefore, this morning as I returned from a very slow walk with Ms. Cleo, the elder dog, I was thinking that I surely must have photographed every flowering plant in the neighborhood, and some more than once.  That there was simply nothing new to be seen here.  And then, just a couple of doors from my home, this dahlia came into my view. I laughed. There is an Auntie Mame boldness to it that I needed very much to experience.  I was in danger of starving at the banquet table.
Nature will always have the next to the last word.  Despite our advances in medicine, health care and just about every other field, these lives of ours are temporal, and that is true for all seven plus billion of us.  These bodies simply will not last forever even if we do replace some failing parts.  Therefore, we would be wise to live fully into the season we are in.  The flowers I photographed this morning will soon be gone.  The weather will have its way with us.    

Yet, every time I think I have seen in all there is to see in this small territory in which I reside, something amazing shows up. I think I know why.  It is because the last word always belongs to God.  We can find great comfort and strength in this knowledge, but there is, of course, is a warning as well.  We can domesticate dogs, cats, and even a wild lily.  But not God. God is not predictable and cannot be tamed. For that, I am deeply grateful as I take my place at the table.       
Let us be wise today and give thanks for what is in front of us.  Tomorrow is not ours, and may never be.  Best accept the gift of today and live.      
       
Ten thousand flowers in spring,
the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer,
snow in winter. 
If your mind isn't clouded by
unnecessary things, 
this is the best season of your life.  
Wu-Men 
from Life Prayers, Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon


Friday, August 8, 2014

A Tender Melody

When we arrive at the skilled nursing community, the routine generally sets in quickly, and yesterday was no different.  The "Price Is Right" game show was on at full volume and a couple of announcements were being made over the loud speaker.  Unfortunately, we can't control the loud speaker, but we can switch off the tv. Several staff members were bringing residents into the room, and others were being taken out.  The pianist and I greeted one another as we moved a chair and a small table into place.  I said my hellos to the staff and a few residents close by.  The pianist began warming up, and out of habit, I began to sing softly.  Song sheets were handed out.  The time of worship was upon us.  
After the service, I went to the back of the activity room to wash the cup, and check in with a couple of people. The pianist continued to gently play.  As I was returning to the front, I noticed one the assistants sitting quietly off to the side.  I have been a little concerned about her. Despite her assurances, her generous, ever ready smile has not been quite the same the last two times I have seen her.  I walked up next to her and paused.  She put her arm around me, smiled, and whispered, "It is so peaceful when she plays.  Look, everyone is listening. Isn't it beautiful?"  I looked. In a room filled with close to forty people, there was very little movement.  I noticed no conversations and even the loudspeaker was silent.  No one was being asked to remember what day it was or that Sacramento was the capital of what state.  Residents and staff both seemed to be resting in the moment of love freely and tenderly given.   The look of happiness on the assistant's face led to me believe these moments may be too rare for not only her, but for all of us.  

It is tempting to believe that our elders constantly need to be energized.  This day, however, was a beautiful reminded that that all of us, regardless of our age and health, also need some time just to simply be.  We need not fear the silence, but rather  make room for it.  There, God's love waits. There lies the deep healing for which we all yearn.       
  
A tender melody indeed.   
   
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 4:8