(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

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.

Like many other Canadians I spent some of my long weekend time getting down and dirty. By that I mean down on my knees and digging in the garden working the dirt, adding some dirt, moving some dirt. Really at this time of year it is all about the dirt!

Over the thirty years of my marriage my beloved was the chief gardener. He enjoyed it very much and I was content to leave it to him as I directed my attention to other things. But as his health declined I inherited more and more of the yard work. I have always enjoyed gardening but I was equally happy for it to be his area of of shared living. Since his death, this has become both a responsibility and a new preoccupation for me.

Gardening is a way to connect with nature but even more a way to appreciate the Creator. William Wilberforce said, “Lovely flowers are the smiles of God’s goodness.” and over the weekend as I rooted out weeds, lots and lots of weeds, I did question why God’s goodness seems so much more prolific with weeds than flowers! (I also wondered about the wisdom of black flies but I am sure God had a plan in that little annoying insect!!!!).

Jesus grew up and lived in his life in a rural, agrarian society. His occasional trips to Jerusalem were his urban experience. Nazareth was a small town. Galilee was farm country. Galilee is still the rich, productive farming area of Israel filled fruit groves, olive gardens and vineyards. It is no surprise that many of Jesus’ stories and metaphors focus on things of the earth. Grain fields, fig trees, mustard seeds are all part of his library of illustrations to tell of God’s love, compassion and abounding grace. So, when I am digging in the dirt it takes me to that place of deep connection with God known through the richness of the natural world.

Gardening also unleashes in me something that I am not good it in any other medium – being artistic! Elizabeth Murray wrote, “Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as the paint, and the soil and the sky as the canvas – working with nature provides the technique.” I like that thought. Moving this day lily over there and transplanting that fall mum to this part of the garden is my working with the canvas of God’s prodigality.

I know that gardening is not everyone’s thing but we all can look out our window and see around us the bursting of creation as spring unfolds. In these uncertain days it is good to have the certainty of the turning of the season and the unleashing of God’s smile on the earth. Happy digging!

Onomatopoeia is the formation of a word from a sound associated with what is named. In other words, an onomatopoeia looks like the sound it makes and we can almost hear those sounds as we read the word, for example, slam, gurgle, mumble, or splash are good examples.

Today I am thinking of longing. Longing is not an onomatopoeia in the strict sense of the word, but it is close in my books. To say I long for something instills in my soul that yawning feel of desire. These days of isolation have left me longing for the companionship of my beloved. So much alone time stirs up an emptiness in my heart, and even though he has been dead for over two years, 30 months to be exact, I still feel his presence in every room of the house. I miss him constantly and these days of being alone have left me longing for his presence.

I also long for levity and mirth. I would like to laugh until tears roll down my cheeks. There is not much to laugh about these days and I am missing that unbridled hilarity that comes in times with family and friends.

I am longing for beauty. I go outside everyday and look at my hyacinths because they are so gorgeous with their rich colours of mauve and purple and pink. Their intoxicating fragrance fills the air around them. The greening of grass dazzles my sight and I long for more colour, more fragrance, more beauty.

I long for gathering. During this time of isolation a friend has died. I wept without reserve because I had not seen her one last time. I long for the opportunity to be with her family, with our friends, to remember and mourn together and to say words of gratitude for all she meant to me.

I long to sing with others. All the youtube videos of people singing from their homes are a great balm but it is not the same as singing together with others. There is nothing like the collection of many voices making harmony together. I long to be back with the congregation singing one of the great hymns of the faith.

I long to eat out in a bustling busy restaurant. Having a delicious plate of food laid before me. I long for spirited conversation at that table as we enjoy a meal someone else cooked while greeting acquaintances at a neighbouring table.

And believe it or not, I long to wake up in the morning and have somewhere to go with a full agenda of things that need to be tended to, to know what day of the week it is by the activity scheduled.

This season of ‘sheltering in’ will come to pass eventually and then, no doubt, I will complain about being too busy and not having enough time, but for now I sit with this time to reflect on what I have, what I have known and what I long for.

What are you longing for these days?

I have had several conversations this week, on Zoom and, the old fashioned way, on the telephone. It is almost inevitable that at some point the conversation turns to, “When this is all over…”. Of course, no one knows when that will be, but already many are considering what impact this time of ‘sheltering in’ will have on how we proceed in social gatherings, church services, public activities, and even family events. Will we continue to shake hands as a greeting? In church, will we pass the offering plate? Will we be uncomfortable sitting right beside someone at the theatre? What will travel look like? I think it is generally agreed that when we return to what will be our ‘new normal’ it will take some time to get over this period of separation and isolation. I am not sure we will emerge from this time without some long term impact.

These days we can wear our pyjamas all day and we don’t even have to comb our hair because we know no one is going to come to our door. We don’t have to make those return dinner invitations. There is no need to attend those … weddings … parties …. social events that make us roll our eyes.We don’t have to engage in long conversations at the grocery store. We don’t have to hug people, especially those that make us feel uncomfortable. For some people this is a huge relief. For others it is the most difficult part of this at home life.

These weeks with little social contact have given people hours of times for self-reflection. For some this has allowed for personal insight and revelation. For others, it is has triggered grief, anxiety and depression. I have given some thought to the way anxiety rises in us. Some people have commented that they are anxious because they are feeling locked in and cut off. Others have said that they now feel anxiety when they go out, having been enveloped in their home, it has become a place of safety and security. Now, leaving home makes them anxious. Some have talked about family dynamics and how the stress of being together all the time has made for challenging times. Some have talked about moments of frustration and being close to tears for no reason while others have confessed to ranting at the least provocation. The range of emotions that people are experiencing means that when we come out the other side of this we will be different people. It will require some time for us to process.

I think the most important and therapeutic thing we can do right now is just hang in with what we are feeling, when we are feeling it. While it is tempting to think into the future and what will happen when this is all over, the truth is, we don’t know, and we won’t know, the future until it happens. The best thing we can do for our self is to work through our anxiety, doing what we need to do, being gentle with our self, and let the future unroll as it will – no predictions, just trust and faith that, as Julian of Norwich said, “All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.”

It’s Thursday. It seems each day I have to try and figure out what day of the week it is. With isolation, and one day bleeding into another, and no points of reference, I never know what day of the week it is. So, I check my Iphone, my wall calendar, my date book to figure out where in the week we are. Today is Thursday. It used to be that Thursday meant the last possible day to make changes to the bulletin so it could be printed on Friday morning and folded Friday afternoon. Thursday meant the last scurry to gather up any announcements that needed to be inserted. The second and fourth Thursday of each month meant prepping for Women’s Morning Out, our biweekly Bible study group. And, of course, Thursday night was choir practice. That was then. This is now. I look at the calendar and cross off another day. Today is Thursday.

And it is April, which means we get every season of the year in as many days. So far this week we have had sun, wind, rain, and snow. Today the sky is a brilliant blue, the sun is bright and warm. Those two realities lured me outside for a stroll around my yard to check out the gardens and see what is happening there. The lilies are pushing up and the poppies are showing their green. But that is not all that impressed me this morning. It was the sounds. Well, really, it was the lack of noise and the presence of sounds. I think there is a difference.

I am one of those people who grew up with noise. I studied with the radio on. I still do most of my work with some background noise – radio, music, even television if there is something worth keeping an eye on. My beloved used to chide me that when I walked into a room I would turn on the radio before I would turn on the light. It was an exaggeration but only a slight one!

During this time of constant isolation and no face to face conversations I have become aware of noise, sounds and silence. When I stepped out this morning, into this bright sunshiny April morning, I listened. There is not much traffic noise where I live only an occasional car. I could hear a truck somewhere in the distance. I heard some birdsong and the chatter of a red squirrel. I could hear the crunch of shoes on gravel and turned to wave to my neighbour out walking his dog. I heard a door slam from somewhere down the street. But mostly I heard the sounds of silence.

The Sounds of Silence is a song, written by Paul Simon in 1964. In it he speaks of the lack of true deep communication between people. I wonder about the impact of this isolation time in regard to many things. Mostly I wonder how it will effect our gathering times when we are allowed to safely gather again. Will we listen differently or will we slip back into the same old routine? Will we hear sounds differently when the din of activity, traffic, construction, planes flying over has returned?

The Gospels mention throughout the telling of Jesus’ life that he would often go to a quiet place to pray. Even Jesus needed to escape the noise and people to have a time of silence. When I was a kid, when you entered the church on Sunday mornings you did not talk. Everyone sat quietly and prayed. That was how I first learned of prayer. Watching my mom and dad bow their heads and close their eyes as they waited for the service to begin, lost in the silence of meditation. We have drifted from that practice to the pre-service time being a time of gathering and conversation. I don’t think this is a bad thing but I also think it is nice to be able to preserve the sound of silence.

I am writing this with the radio off, no tv, no cd playing all I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator. And, to my surprise … so far I am doing fine without background noise.

Blessings to you as to listen your way through Thursday.