Lent Begins

 I think my time at last night's Ash Wednesday prayer station may be one of my favorite recent ministry moments.  My community worships in a historic chapel on the campus of a larger sister congregation. The chapel is a small and unadorned building, but the beautiful acoustics makes one forget that the walls are bare and the benches have no cushions. The church who rents this space to us hosts an Ash Wednesday service in the chapel, and some of our members often attend.  When it came time for the imposition of ashes, I had been asked to be at the prayer station, and I happily accepted. I love praying with those I know, and those I don't. 

One beautiful young woman came to me for a blessing. In her arms was a small baby with beautiful dark eyes that looked right at me. I smiled at him and he smiled back. I placed my hand on his heart and lifted a prayer of gratitude for this young child. He just wanted to chew on my finger. With everything that is going on in our nation it would have been easy to pray a prayer of concern. However, worry did not surface for a second, only joy.  I am still smiling this morning.   

After everyone who wanted to take part had received their ashes, anointing oil, or a prayer (or all of the above as I encouraged them to do because these are strange times), the pastors paused and faced the congregation for the benediction. It was humbling to see the people sit quietly, most with ashes on their forehead. In that moment, I felt the unity that continues to hold us. We are not alone.     

As I drove home, I thought of Jesus and Mary. I have seen one, just one, drawing of the adult Jesus laughing in a small church in San Jose. I cannot remember ever seeing a picture of Mary smiling, but less laughing.  Maybe we need to let the Beloved Ones lighten up a bit. 

Blessings on your noble journey.  Make room for your beautiful soul. Chat with a baby when you can, but make sure to listen. These little ones are coming into our world with much wisdom to share.    

   

"The spiritual journey involves going beyond hope and fear, stepping into unknown territory, continually moving forward. The most important aspect of being on the spiritual path may be to just keep moving...
Rather than indulge or reject our experience, we can somehow let the energy of the emotion, the quality of what we're feeling pierce us to the heart. This is a noble way to live. It’s the path of compassion - the path of cultivating human bravery and kindheartedness."        

Pema Chodron 

     

 image: Coyote Hills Regional Park, 2025      

     

Beyond Walls

 In the dream I seem to be working in some sort of outdoor hospital. There are no walls and no floor, just a few makeshift beds. There is quite a bit of chaos going on, but my intention is to baptize two young children. I do this because both of them have asked me to do so. I  cannot tell you the exact nature of the chaos, but it was very present, and I had to work through it and around it. Finally, I am able to baptize the children. I stand upright, and I hear someone ask me why I would do that. Why would I even attempt a baptism in such an environment? I ask in return, "Why wouldn't I? It is all a temple." 

 This morning I received the following thought from Father Richard Rohr:  

"Our very suffering now, our condensed presence on this common nest that we have fouled, will soon be the ONE thing that we finally share in common. It might well be the one thing that will bring us together. The earth and its life systems on which we all entirely depend (just as we depend on God!) might soon become the very thing that will convert us to a simple gospel lifestyle, to necessary community, and to an inherent and universal sense of the holy."    

 On January 12, 2025 my intention is to retire from the San Lorenzo Church. I have loved being there. Yet, I cannot deny that Tyler and I both long to do some exploring, both internal and also out in what is still our beautiful country.  I recently bought a small book, Earth Keeper, Reflections on the American Land by N. Scott Momaday. I would call this book a devotional, a prayer book, and a book of dreams. I also call it beautiful. Momaday, a poet, novelist, and essayist, was of the Kiowa people.  In this book he writes, "The earth is a house of stories." I want to hear, and experience, more of these stories, more of these dreams. 

     

    

    

       

image: Coyote Regional Park, October 2024. When I took this photograph, I did not see these two women. As we walked by them, they had paused at the trunk of the tree, and were leaning against it. They seemed relieved to have found a resting place.  I think I understand.   

Focusing

 On Saturday, Tyler and I ventured out to a place where we had never been, Coyote Hills Regional Park. It is a fascinating park with wetlands, dry hills (this time of year) and many birds. We forgot our binoculars, but even with our ordinary vision, we saw turkeys, white pelicans, egrets,hawks, ducks, avocets, and other shorebirds. As we walked along the wetlands, we met an older woman who evidently goes there a lot. She had a beautiful monocular mounted on a tripod and she invited us to take a look through it. She said that morning she had already spotted forty-six different species of birds. I liked her immediately. Standing next to her was to experience silence, even when she was speaking. I sense she had been looking for a long time.

I am grateful for those who are trying to pay attention to the earth and who value all creatures. When we re-learn this practice of attentive watching, the earth can heal us, and we all can live in balance once more.

"We are not here on Earth to be alone, but to be a part of a living community, a web of life in which all is sacred. Like the cells of our body, all of life is in constant communication, as science is just beginning to understand. No bird sings in isolation, no bud breaks open alone.

And the most central note that is present in life is its sacred nature... Hearing its presence speak to us, we feel this great bond of life that supports and nourishes us all. Today's world may still at times make us feel lonely, but we can then remember what every animal, every insect, every plant knows - and only we have forgotten: the living sacred whole."

~ Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee--

First Sip