(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

“What’cha doin?” “Thinking.” “Thinking ’bout what?” “Just thinking.” “Well, you have to be thinking about something.” “Not really – just waiting for thoughts to come.” “About what?” “Thoughts about my sermon.” “What’s it on?” “Don’t know yet – that’s why I am thinking.”

This could be a weekly conversation if anyone were to walk by at a certain time as I sit and stare at the computer screen. I always have some kind of idea because I know the scripture and from it I pick the hymns and have a certain kind of direction in mind. I usually have a title but until I am in the midst of writing I am not completely sure which direction it will go.

We have already recorded the video service so that sermon is done and no I am working on our ‘in-house’ service, as I call it. Last Sunday we had our first service back in the sanctuary. There were only 23 in the congregation but it was still good to be back together. As one person said, as she walked through the door, “It’s good to be home.” And it felt that way – back in our place, back together. But it is different preaching to 23 than it is to 100 and it different again than it is preaching to a camera! So I am sitting here, in my office , working on what I need to say, want to say on Sunday morning. Anyone walking by my office window would think I am just sitting and daydreaming. And, I guess in some ways, I am.

I generally begin my sermon by pulling out the kernel of truth I want from the passage for this week. Any scripture reading is a prism with many many sides and one could go off in several directions. In fact. I have sometimes wondered what it would be like to preach on the same passage fro several weeks in a row picking out a different detail each week.

Having decided on the direction of the sermon I visualize who will be in the pews. I never know exactly, of course, but I usually have a bit of an idea and I wonder to myself what they need to hear this week. I might scroll around online and read other people’s sermons on the passage and see how they have taken the words and worked with them. Then I start to write. Sometimes it flows. Sometimes it is nothing but struggle. Sometimes I have to go for a walk, or pull some weeds, or stare into space, to give my brain time to ruminate. One thing for certain, there is a time frame and come Sunday morning it had better be done!

But what I want you to know… if you see me staring off into space and you are tempted to ask me, “What’cha doin’?” chances are I am working on my sermon!

I officiated at a graveside service last week. There were just seven of us. Five from the family, the Funeral Director, and me. The deceased died a few months ago and it was only now we could gather to inter his ashes into the family grave site.

It was a steamy hot day. It was one of those humid August days. A day when the sun beams down and the air is heavy and damp with moisture. My mother would describe it as “close”. Clouds rolled overhead and it felt that a cloudburst could come any minutes and it would have been welcome just to dispel the humidity.

The deceased was 88 when he died and his life had many interesting facets … an immigrant to Canada, an active career, interesting hobbies, a loving family. What did we talk about as we stood there at his graveside? The weather. Yep, that’s right, the weather. Of course, we laugh that as Canadians we always talk about the weather. People who come to our country think this is odd until they realize that, unlike countries where the weather is constant and unchanging, the changing weather of Canada is a valid topic for conversation. Too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too windy, too snowy, there is always something to talk about. But it did strike me, as we stood there, with so much we could have talked about, that instead, we talked about the weather, “It’s a hot one.” “Looks like rain.” “The weatherman didn’t say rain.” “It’s been a hot summer.” “They say it will be a hard winter.” and on an on.

The whole conversation got me to thinking, why do we do this? What is it that makes us spend so much time talking about the weather? I have concluded it is because it is safe, it is obvious, it is not personal, it does not take emotional involvement and we can walk away and the conversation has provided some interaction with another without being too revealing or intense. It is also obvious – the weather is around us.

Since that day in the cemetery I have been considering how conversations engage us, or don’t! How much do we reveal about ourselves when we talk to others? What level does friendship need to reach in order for us to truly open up to another as to what is going on in our minds? Our hearts? Our souls? For myself I need to have a pretty high comfort level around confidentiality. I don’t like to think of people talking about me to other people even though I know that happens all the time – it’s human nature. I also have to feel a comfort level that we are sympatico. I need to feel that the other understands me before I reveal too much of my inner thoughts. And, I need to feel safe – a feeling that the other person will hold whatever I say with integrity and kindness and that there will be no judgement.

All that got me thinking about the personality of Jesus. So many of the stories about him tell of his immediate connection with others, even strangers he met along the way, who immediately felt connected to him and felt comfortable to reveal details about themselves that gave him insight into who they were at a soul level. I like to think about Jesus being so approachable, so open, that I could have talked to him about important things and not just about the weather! But, as I thought about it, I realized that there are people in my life that let me be that honestly open about the fears and doubts, as well as the joy and gratitude that fills my life. I am grateful to those people. Those people who are the Jesus people in my life. Because, there is so much more to talk about than the weather!

In my last blog I mentioned that I was going to meet with my Spiritual Director. In the course of our conversation I said, almost flippantly, “Well, I guess that is the gift of Covid.” Being the good and insightful listener that she is, she circled back to that comment and said it back to me with the question – “What have been that gifts that have come to you during Covid?” Harrumph – I hate it when my own words come back to challenge me.

When I said those words I was being a bit ironic. I said that it was “a gift” that I now had time to confront my grief and sort through my emotions regarding loss and the death of my husband. It was a “gift” that I had time and space to go deeper into that pit of sorrow as all my busy work (and avoidance tactics) was put on hold, the running to visits and shows and activities was stopped and I had nothing to do but plunge into the feelings I have held at bay for so long. It is hard soul work but healing in the long run.

Ever since that conversation I have been thinking about that verbal challenge. What have been some gifts from this time period we have come to call Covid? In a conversation yesterday a friend mentioned the loss of the illusion that we know everything. This was in reference to the shifting science around the virus. What we heard about the virus in the beginning has shifted and changed. Don’t wear masks, Do wear masks. The virus will stay on paper and objects for 72 hours. It may or may not linger on products that long. The science is changing and even the experts have had to rethink proper protocols. We have lived for so long with the illusion that we know things and that science and research can give us answers to everything. A gift of Covid is the reminder that we are human with limited understanding and we are not in perfect control of everything.

There have been many disappointments as people miss large family events and travel plans were cancelled. There have been genuine hardships as businesses falter and people lose needed income. But there has also been quality time with those we love. We have learned creative ways to communicate and some of us have conquered the steep learning of technology! And of course the less hectic pace of doing has been replaced by the valued sense of being.

Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” A gift from Covid has been the enforcement to be still and in the stillness we can, if we let ourselves, be open to the deep reality of God within. What a gift.

Do you remember that song from the 70’s? “Feelings, nothing more than feelings” the singer intoned. It was covered by a number of artists. It is a song about lost love. It is maudlin and sentimental and not particularly good musically. And it is an ear worm, so if you now have that melody rolling around in your head. I am sorry!

At the risk of beating the same old drum in these blogs I find myself forced to write again about feelings. There is so much to hold in our emotional reservoir. Yesterday there was a horrendous explosion in Beirut. A friend, who lives in Eastern Ontario but is Lebanese, immediately sent out requests for prayers for family and friends in that city. Of course the feeling of fear immediately kicked in. Was it some kind of terrorist attack? Was it the beginning of global threat? According to news reports today it was an explosion of a stockpile of ammonium nitrate. The impact of the explosion was vast resulting in many deaths and injuries. The feelings it triggered were immediate, an ‘oh no – now what’ kind of feeling.

I find myself mesmerized by the antics of the political leader to the south. I prefer to not speak his name. And while I cannot believe what is happening there I also cannot stop watching the new reports and interviews as the political leadership unravels. I feel a sense of betrayal of the political system and a feeling of paralysis in the face of a democracy in decline.

Mostly though, I am stuck in my own feeling loop. Covid is getting me down. It is not fear of the virus. It is the wariness, the judgement, the being on guard, the watching who wears a mask and who doesn’t, it is making sure no one touches me and I touch no one. All these things have stealthily crept into my psyche so deeply that when I see people shake hands in a television show I find myself thinking, “They shouldn’t be doing that. They might be transmitting the virus.” And I have become so thin-skinned and grumpy. I often have to stop myself from a retort or a comment by reminding myself that is not ‘pre-Covid me’ that is ‘pandemic me’. I don’t like that ‘me’ I have become.

Oh and anxiety – let me say a word about anxiety – not just mine but others as well. How to measure and judge anxiety? When to ramp up because someone else is anxious about something and maybe I am being inattentive? Or, when to walk away because I do not want to catch anxiety fearing it as infectious as the virus? That waffling is enough to produce it’s own anxiety so then I get depressed, well, not clinically depressed but sad and lonely and lethargic because, well, just because of stupid Covid.

I invite people over but it is always with that caveat – “if you feel safe”. Plans for the fall and winter are all prefaced with, “Depending on what happens.” Everything feels tentative and lacking in direction and focus.

I am a melange of feelings. I am not sure that is a good use of the word melange but I like it and according to the dictionary it’s definition is “mixture” and that is what I am feeling – a dizzying, chaotic, depressing mixture of feelings!

What to do with all of this? Well, first step is to talk to some others and realize I am not alone. Second step, it seems, is to write a blog about it to see if any of my readers agree or share the same ‘melange’! Third step is an appointment, set for tomorrow, with my Spiritual Director to put some theological and spiritual framework around it. Fourth is to remember that Jesus, who is our human experience of God, had lots of feelings too. It is okay to have feelings. Even when I don’t like them.

Way back in 2015, as my beloved’s health and strength started to fail, I took over the responsibility of cutting the lawn. I don’t mind pushing the lawnmower around. There is a sense of accomplishment when you look back and see the swaths of grass mowed down and the lawn looking tidy. However, there is one troublesome hill on our side lawn. It grew only weeds because the soil was sandy and light and turned to dust after a few hot summer days. I got tired of struggling to push the lawnmower up the steep bank and being choked by the dust that blew around as a result. I declared I was going to turn that hillside into a garden. My dear one said, “We don’t need anymore garden – grass is easier.” I pointed out to him that there was no grass there only weeds and I was tired of them. I prevailed. A couple of summer later, as my garden grew and his health declined he sat beside me as I pulled weeds and he said, “This garden is a nice addition!”

Now, a few years on, I am still pulling weeds and watching my garden grow. It delights me every morning, as I open the window and see the riot of colour and the marvelous texture and movement of the perennials that show their beauty every day.

I have decided that pulling weeds is my spiritual practice this summer. As I kneel in among the flowers, rooting out the weeds that infiltrate, it seems, almost overnight, I hear my mother’s words echo in my mind, “With the kiss of the sun for pardon and the song of the birds for mirth, you are nearer God’s heart in a garden, than anywhere else on earth.” And I feel the pulse and rhythm of God’s heart beating through the glory of summer sun and the wonder of the earth pushing forth life. It really is quite miraculous, the power of re-creation and growth.

It feels miraculous in my soul as well. Some days, these days, the dire news as Covid 19 continues its crawl around the earth and more and more people succumb to illness, my soul, feels battered and weary. I find a few hours of weeding reminds me of the power to overcome and the wonder of regrowth. Nothing can completely take away grief and sorrow but they can diminish in the amazing, bigger picture of creation.

So, “when I am weary and feeling low” as the old song says, I walk out to my garden and start pulling weeds. On my knees, in the earth, with the song of birds in my ears I find some peace in my soul. Thankfully, that is all I need to face a new day.

I read my friend Phil’s blog this morning and was taken with one line in it. He, like many of us was weighing the pros and cons of returning to live worship rather than online worship given the recent lifting of some restrictions by the Provincial Government. He talked about sanctuary space, number of congregants, safety precautions, all those things we need to think about given the current realities of life. But the line that resonated is, “Our United Church Creed does not say that we are called -“To go to church” but rather that we are called – “To be the church”. I like that reminder!

Over the past 14 weeks we have been worshiping together at Bracebridge United Church. It is just that we do it from the comfort of our own homes! I have told you in a previous blog how my week has turned around in order to record the service so that it can be posted on YouTube for people to stay connected as a congregation and worship even if it is through the internet. Of course it is not the same as arriving at the church building, sitting in the sanctuary, singing and praying and reading together and then visiting over a cup of coffee. But it can still be inspiring and transformational and a connection to those we call our community of faith. I am well aware that this style of worship is not available to some of our older folks who do not have computers and are not able to access this opportunity but to those people I try to make paper copies of the service and sermon available. It is not the same but it is something.

We have a team from our Board who has met to discuss what church will look like when we resume. I am encouraging the option that we ‘stay the course’ and continue as we are until September. Yes, the guidelines have been lightened but that is because the government was lobbied by evangelical churches who pressured the government into their way of thinking that they have a “God-given right” to gather for worship and the government cannot prevent them. Working with the 30% restriction is not easy in our setting. I would much rather have my community of faith safe and healthy than encourage them to come together and risk infection.

I really appreciate the reminder that we are called “to be the church”. We ca n continue to be faithful, to be responsive, to be transforming, to be prayerful, to give praise and to care for creation, even though we are not gathering in the sanctuary on Sunday morning. That day will come but even without corporate worship together in the building we can “be the church”.

Yesterday was our 95th birthday – well for the United Church that is. 95 years ago thousands crowded into the Mutual Street arena in Toronto to witness the coming together of the Methodist, Congregationalist and 70% of the Presbyterian congregations of Canada as well as some Union Churches that had been fledgling cooperative ventures in the west.

It was a day of high excitement and celebration but it did lead to a season of bewilderment and confusion as congregations re-organized and lived into the new reality. Some congregations had too many ministers, organists and Sunday School superintendents when people left one congregation to join another. Some were left bereft as the newly minted denomination sorted things out. Neighbours squabbled as some remained firmly where they had always worshiped and others joined this new denomination.

The United Church has always had as it’s underlying attitude the words written on its crest, “That all may be one”, a line of scripture from John’s gospel. And over the years since union has engaged in conversations with other denominations to consider broadening the union. The United Church has always witnessed with the theology that we are stronger together and has always tried to broaden the umbrella, or lengthen the table, whichever is your metaphor of choice, in order to offer people a place to explore and grow in faith and spirituality. It has not always been easy. The United Church has often been at the forefront in its challenge to prevailing social issues and that has sometimes resulted in discomfort and unease for it’s members, despite that, it has tried to stay true to its social gospel roots.

I love the United Church, despite its shortcoming and foibles. I was baptized into the United Church when I was 3 months old and it has been in my blood and livelihood all my life. Like any institution it has been strong and weak, had successes and failures, increased and declined, done things right and done things wrong. Throughout, it has always looked to the future.

There was no cake, no balloons, no singing yesterday for a 95th birthday party but one friend sent an email, “Happy 95th Birthday United Church, always part of my life.” So today, the delight of remembering lingers. Over the years there have been The Basis of Union, The Statement of Faith, The Creed, The Song of Faith, each, in their own nuance, reminding us that “we are not alone”. Thanks be to God.

My first title for this blog was ‘Hiding Out’ because I feel, with some shame attached, that this is what I have been doing. The pain of the world has gotten me down. I can’t even force myself to listen to, or watch the news anymore. It is too depressing. There is too much strife. The violence and the dissension is too much. So I have been avoiding it. But I have not been cowering in my bed or hiding under the table. I have been doing what I need to do to restore balance. I have been digging in the dirt. I have been touching flower petals. I have been breathing in the wafting fragrance of blooming shrubs.

My mother often quoted a verse from the poem by Dorothy Frances Gurney, “The kiss of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth, one is nearer God’s heart in a garden, then anywhere else on earth.”And that is certainly how it feels to me. Being outdoors connecting with nature is often what I need to lay down the burden of the world and crawl into the heart of God.

There is, to my sensibilities, an air of irritation everywhere. People are tired of staying home, of not seeing loved ones, of having activities curtailed. Parents say that their usually polite and cooperative kids are grumpy and difficult; they miss their friends and running about in playgrounds, parks and on beaches. Some folks are quick to criticize and others are quick to retort. And those who have had hours reduced or jobs cut are just plain worried. We are all tired of being patient.

So how do you restore balance? Puzzles have been a past-time for some, during these days. Even puzzles can get tiresome after a while. Writing letters and notes were a curative for some at first, but that interest may have dropped off. Baking bread? Sewing? Walking? Reading? Watching Netflix? These are all good things to do to help us gather ourselves into a place of wholeness and balance. For me, it’s crawling into the heart of God, pulling weeds and God always provides lots of those!

Every day this week I have told myself, “I am going to write a blog today.” I even had ideas as to what I would write about. Monday was the 40th anniversary of my Ordination. Lots of fodder there. No inspiration! Tuesday brought three Zoom meetings – that is inspiration destroying. Wednesday is recording day for our video service I could have talked about that and … I even had a title … ‘Hump Day’. I was going to talk about it being mid-week and that all the work of my typical Sunday was now done. Thursday I heard someone refer to it as Thankful Thursday and I thought, ‘Now there’s a title for a blog’. But, alas, no blog came to me. But today, now today is the day.

This day. So many things spring to mind. What happened on this day in history … Bing Crosby recorded ‘White Christmas’ the largest selling single ever, with an estimated 50 million copies sold. On this day in 1917 John F. Kennedy was born. In 1953 Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, a sherpa of Nepal reached the summit of Mount Everest. And, in 2005, Danica Patrick became the first female driver to take the lead in the Indianapolis 500.

But also, on this day, I have running through my mind the hymn “This is the day, this is the day that the Lord has made … we will rejoice and be glad in it.” A celebratory hymn that has a tune that sets your feet to dancing or at the very least your toes to tapping.

How do you begin this day? Does it feel like another dreary day in lock-down or are you energized with the early morning sunrise and the freshness of the spring air? Frame of mind is so important isn’t it? We can’t conjure up good humour or positivism. It comes to us or it doesn’t. We can however, reset our attitude by shifting our perspective. Sometimes, accomplishing one small thing is all it takes to spring our attitude out of the doldrums and into a “This is the day” attitude. I know of what I speak, er, write. I am a lazy person by nature. (I have never thought sloth should be a deadly sin – mainly because I would be convicted over and over.) I am excellent at writing ‘To Do’ lists and then rewriting them the next day. And, I know the sheer exhilaration that comes from crossing something off the list!

So, this is the day – my Blog is written. I have texted with two friends and had an interesting phone conversation and it is only 9:30. (I have also put out the garbage and done some on-line shopping but that is beside the point.) But, more important than what I have accomplished, is that I woke up this morning knowing this is going to be a good day. And I am grateful for that mood. This is the day that God has given me to do … what .. I am not sure but I know that God is giving me a day to do something and I am going to make it count.

It was announced this week that schools in Ontario are now closed until September, at least, due to Covid19. All school kids across Ontario are not able to return to their classrooms. Graduations cancelled. Track and Field meets cancelled. School trips and end of years events cancelled. And parents trying to help kids stay engaged and active without even the benefits of social activities to provide diversions. But it is about more that keeping them busy it is trying to instill some learning as the days have stretched into weeks and now months.

Educating on line is a great thing – but it is second best to being with the teacher and other students to learn together. I know whereof I speak! In the past I have attended the Festival of Homiletics. It is a grand gathering of preachers who spend a week listening to sermons and to lectures about sermons. It is a wonderful time for ministers to learn and to reflect together about life in ministry in general and preaching in particular. This year, like most other events, the Festival, which was to have been this week, was cancelled. Instead of gathering with hundreds of other ministers we all sat in front of our computer screens and listened to these amazing speakers and preachers through the flickering blue light. It was wonderful that the organizers acted so quickly so as to launch it online. It is wonderful that we have the technology to experience it this way. It is better to have this than to have nothing. BUT, it is just not the same as standing in a sanctuary with 100’s of other people and singing hymns together. It is not the same as hearing the collected voices of people saying the Lord’s Prayer together. It is not the same as striking up a conversation with someone about what we just heard and engaging in spirit filled conversation about the art of preaching.

So that makes me think of all the kids who are trying to learn something while desperately missing their teachers and their classmates. And their parents who have to watch them cope with their sorrow and loss. It is not only the loss of routine and the loss of having a skilled educator impart knowledge it is also the learning together that enriches the experience of all. Computers can do so much but there is nothing like the shared learning and the aha moments with others engaged in the learning process.

I think we can draw some parallels here to Jesus collecting a community around him. Jesus did not teach one other person – he taught a whole group. Several of the stories from the Gospels recount the conversation (maybe bickering) among the disciples as they worked through what it was that Jesus was teaching them. It was in group encounters that they learned of the parables and the seemingly new about the Kingdom of God. They did this in face-to-face learning and in conversation.

I know we are all trying our best to make do in this Covid time but let’s also take a bit of time to lament and grieve the losses not only for ourselves but also for our kids. My week of on-line learning has been good, but also limited in its depth, just because I was listening and reflecting all by myself in my dining room. I learn better when I can talk it over with others.