(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

On Monday I did what many people in this part of the country did on the holiday weekend. I went to a cottage. It was to visit my niece and her family. It took me, as many such visits do, down a rambling, narrow, gravel road. The road was arched with the tree cover and each side was dense with forest. It was only about 4 kilometers of travel but the going was slow due to the bends and curves in the road and having to pull off into the bushes whenever I met an oncoming car so that we could pass each other.

There is something about a cottage road and driving deep into a forest that makes me feel, well, so Canadian! It is the coolness of the woods, the deep greens and browns in the tangle of shrubs and trees combined with the crack of twigs as unknown animals move about under cover. There is a delicious, engaging mystery to forests. It is no wonder fairy tales about the deep, dark woods are so enticing to adults and children alike.

My mind always drifts to questions like … Who made this road in the first place? How did they decide to carve this trail here? How did early travelers cope with the density of underbrush and the persistent annoyance of mosquitoes and deer flies? But I also marvel at the diversity and the awesomeness of creation. So many shapes of leaves, such varied dimension of trees, such wonderful play of light and shadow, all in all, a delight to the senses.

The other charm of a cottage road is just when you think you are lost, have gone too far, or have made a wrong turn, there you are, a sparkling lake stretching before you and a cold beverage thrust into your hand (and with any luck a bowl of potato chips near by)! Then the visiting begins, the stories get told and retold, the jokes get shared and the Canadian summer pastime of sitting by a lake is upon you.

There is very little in this world as restorative as traveling down a cottage road and letting your worries unwind and your anticipation build for … the plunge into the lake … the card games at the table … the sticky sweet taste of s’mores. Summer in Canada – the best two months of the year.

And just like that it is August. And just like that it is Friday. And just like that it is the end of the day. Months pass, weeks pass, days pass. I just said to someone, “Next year is 2020 … 2020!!!! How did that happen?” They say as we get older time accelerates. I believe it! I can remember when summers seemed to last forever and now I have to keep reminding myself, as the evenings cool, and the spring flowers that turned to summer flowers are now starting to fade as the late summer flowers begin their blooming that really, we are only half way through the summer.

I do try to be very conscious of the significance of time and the preciousness of moments. This year I have insisted that my siblings and I gather, gather, simply to enjoy one another’s company. Our family reunion that used to be organized by the Aunts is now organized by the cousins and only one aunt was well enough to attend. And we cousins are now nearing our senior years!

Each Sunday we share ‘Joys and Concerns’. It is almost predictable that someone will name as a joy the summer time visit of grandchildren. How wonderful that in our prayers of thanksgiving we can include the precious gift of family and friendship.

So here is my challenge to you for this long weekend … count your joys and savour the moments. Don’t let the sacred, holy moments slip by unnoticed. I will get you started … say thanks for … a warm handshake, a morning hug, a toasted marshmallow, a fish on the line, a glorious sunset, an ice cream cone, a kiss on the cheek … there you go … add to the list. Happy weekend.

Sam Keen wrote, “Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.” I like that affirmation! I am just back from three weeks of holidays. I spent much of yesterday sorting and responding to emails. Phew! Today I am picking up the pieces of work laid down three weeks ago and facing into the work that is ahead but I feel ready to do it after a glorious summer break.

People often talk about balance in life and I thought a lot about that over my weeks away. I have come to the conclusion that what is balance for one is not necessarily easing or restoring for another. As the old saying goes, ‘Different strokes for different folks.’ I could easily spend a couple of hours browsing a book store and come out happy. I felt grounded (pun intended) after a morning of pulling weeds in the garden. Nothing feels better to me than a lunch shared with a friend when it is accompanied with stories shared and memories revisited. A cup of coffee with an oatmeal cookie carries such restorative powers I can take on the world.

Balance for me needs to include mental stimulation, some artistic elements, companionship, along with a generous dollop of quiet and even solitude. I love being with people but I am also pretty happy with my own company and find that both are needed for me to feel balanced.

So … here’s how I spent my summer vacation … enjoying two plays, visiting two museums, touring a distillery, visiting with lots of friends and family, reading two books, gardening, strolling through an old pasture, sitting on a dock, riding on a ferry boat, packing my suitcase 7 times, sleeping in 7 different beds, eating in lots of different restaurants, seeing three movies … all in all … it was GREAT!

I feel restored and balanced and I confess … I love lazy!

Today is World Refugee Day as declared by the United Nations. Did you know that in 2018 more than 13.6 million people fled their homes? According to the UN, more than 70 million people have been forced to flee their homes due to violence or persecution. The world’s displaced population is almost double that from a decade ago. This means that one in every 108 people on the planet is now displaced from home. That is a staggering figure.

In the same report Canada is being congratulated for taking in more refugees than any other country by accepting just over 28,000 refugees from around the world. Some 92,400 refugees were resettled globally in 2018 but still, that is fewer than 7% of those in need of a home. The yawning gap between need and response is dismaying.

I have been mulling over the statistic – 70 million people in need of a place to call home, or longing for the home they have had to leave. I have as the tagline at the bottom of my work email a quote from the French Philosopher, Simone Weil, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” I have always counted myself richly blessed that I have the privilege to still return to the very home where I grew up. My parents sold the farm to my brother and he, and now his daughter, has always made the family feel completely welcome and that returning there is always returning home. The bedroom my sisters and I slept in is still called, “the girls’ room”! I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose that place but even if we did I could still drive by. It is not like losing my country, my kinsmen, my tribe, my culture, my ethnicity which is what many refugees must give up.

It was just over two years ago that we waited at the airport to welcome an air plane from Turkey carrying the Syrian family we had sponsored. They had started their travels hours before leaving Iraq and then transferring planes in Istanbul. I will never forget them coming through the sliding doors at the airport. We had been corresponding and skyping for a couple of years by that point so we knew them immediately. They had left their homeland and they carried all their possessions in four suitcases. Can you imagine putting your family’s whole life in four suitcases and knowing you might never get home again?

I have walked their resettlement with them and I know that they frequently say how grateful they are but I also know it has been very hard. They miss their country. They miss their family. When a birth happens here (as it did last August) or there, they feel so far away. When a family member dies and they are half a world away they feel so lonely. When cultural holidays come and they aren’t known of or recognized here they feel so isolated. The good news is they have formed a network of love here. People feel so close to them and we have learned so much from them. Having them in my life has broadened my global awareness and made me appreciate even more the richness of my heritage and inheritance as a rooted fifth-generation Canadian. We have all benefited from the tragic circumstances that made it necessary for them to come to Canada.

Someone gave me a button not long ago, “Jesus was a refugee”. On this World Refugee Day I am holding in prayer the many, many people who are, sadly, on the move.

Sitting here on the desk by my computer is a little book titled, “20 Spiritual Practices That Yard Word Can Teach You”. I bought this a few years ago for Carl. In those days he did all the yard work and gardening. As his health became frail, more and more of those responsibilities came to me and now, of course, I am left to do it all. I like it. It is a spiritual practice to dig, to plant, to transplant, to admire, to sniff, to touch. Gardening effects every sense in the best way possible. (It also reminds one of muscles that have become lazy over the winter!)

At this time of year gardening is all about potential. As shoots appear through the ground I wonder what might that become? The promise of a lily? The unfurling of a Hosta? As dahlia bulbs get buried I can only wonder about the potential for their brilliant abundant blossoms in the late summer.

The number one Spiritual Practice listed in my little book is to “Reverence the Outdoor Sanctuary”. I do that every morning. I peel open the window blind and look out to see what has changed overnight. I feel such delight in just watching things grow. Well, okay, I admit that the weeds can be annoying along with the alarming rate of the growth of grass. But to marvel at the development of plants and shrubs and to admire the blossoms that start as tiny crumpled buds that expand into glorious blooms is really quite wonderful.

This weekend, when I am not attending to church stuff, I will be in my outdoor sanctuary attending to the Spiritual practice of yard work. Hope you get some time to admire a bug, touch a leaf, smell a blossom, feast your eye on the myriad colours of green and maybe even taste some fresh rhubarb and just generally appreciate all the beauty around you.

Despite the fact that yesterday brought with it one of the rare afternoons and evenings of lovely weather, I spent it watching a dvd series! It was a prearranged viewing party with the women who are planning our fall retreat. We are hoping the dvd “A Sacred Balance”, starring David Suzuki, will give lots of food for thought for our retreat with the theme of eco-spirituality.

In the watching, I learned a new phrase: “pathological individualism”. While Suzuki explores the need for community and the longing for connection he speaks of “pathological individualism”. I had never heard of it before but I immediately understood the term. This morning when I googled I saw that there are lots of posts and blogs about the idea so it has been around for a while.

Having been part of a church community all my life I have been spoiled with the experience of community. Having been a person of faith all my life I have been schooled in the notion of community, outreach and support. So the concept that the seeking of individualism is paramount is not personally experienced but it is also not new. A few years ago our church Book Club read, The Ego Boom by Steve Maich and Lianne George. The subtitle ‘Why the World Really Does Revolve Around You’ gives a hint at the content. The authors were inspired to write the book (ten years ago) when they read the statistic that more people live alone than ever before. Historically people lived with family, partners or friends. Not now.

Well, I live alone … and I don’t mind it! But I also value time with others and I think that the coming together to support others is vital to personal well being and the well being of the planet. I don’t think it is a question of being and introvert or an extrovert or personal likes or dislikes. I think it is about personal connection that brings a sense of healing and well being.

As has been profiled on the news of late, Bracebridge has experienced a great deal of flooding this spring. When the topic comes up those effected often don’t focus on the damage or the labour involved in the clean up, most want to talk about the tremendous help that neigbours, friends and strangers gave to them in their time of need. The outpouring of support is what impressed so many.

People need people!

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The world lost two very important people this week. People who transformed and inspired.

On Saturday morning, Rachel Held Evans died after a brief illness. She was 37. Despite her young age, she came to prominence as a formidable Christian writer and speaker. Having been raised in an evangelical Christian home, she spent much of her adult life challenging the harm fostered by conservative Christianity and she wrote, blogged and spoke of a Christianity that embraces ALL people. She insisted that God’s love included everyone and she offered those who had been shunned by the church (LGBTQ+, women, people of colour) a way to return. Her friend Jeff Chu said, “She saw the disconnect between so much of the church and what Jesus was saying.”

I quoted Rachel Held Evans on Sunday … “This is what the Kingdom of God is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.”

What a breathtaking and heartening explanation of the church.

And then today the word came that Jean Vanier has died at age 90. He was a champion for people with disabilities. A Canadian, a follower of Jesus, a deeply committed and compassionate man, he helped improve conditions for the developmentally disabled in multiple countries. He established L’Arche in 1964 as an alternative housing and living environment to allow for those with developmental disabilities to live in community rather than as patients in an institution. L’Arche is now in 38 countries and homes are provided for thousands of people.

Jean Vanier came from a life of privilege. His father was the first French Canadian Governor General . Vanier was inspired by his Catholic faith but chose to not enter the priesthood but to follow a different calling. His leadership and influence, around the globe, looms large.

Two deaths, two Christians, two people from very different backgrounds, two passions that influenced people beyond counting, two different perspectives but two people who shaped the church and the culture in profound ways.

All one can say is, Thanks be to God.

Holy Saturday is always a quiet day. A day of reflection. A day between sorrow and joy. A day to await the resurrection. Let’s not rush from sorrow to joy. Let’s not hurry the unfolding of new life that takes place deep in an earthy grave. Let’s sit among the tombstones and wait.

At first it is almost imperceptible. Subtle. Muted. Slow. Gradual. And then is bursts. New life.

I learned a new word this week. Yugen. Yugen is an important concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics. It means, “A profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.” Yugen is very clearly about this world and this experience but the notion struck a chord with me as a Christian on this Easter weekend. The crucifixion and the resurrection trigger feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

I always find it hard to write the sermon for Easter Sunday. How do we describe the resurrection? How do we put words around the mystery of life from death? How do we make sense of something that is beyond our realm of daily experience? How to speak of something that is too deep and mysterious for words?

So today, this Holy Saturday, I wait for the surprising in-breaking of God’s new life in mine. I wait in the tomb of Holy Saturday until the angels call me to new life.

Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are not the banner days for church attendance like Christmas Eve and Easter morning. Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are hard and difficult days to face. They story is told of Jesus’ betrayal by a friend, the sham of a trial, the desertion of some his followers, the conspiring of leaders in politics and religion to get rid of him, and the changeable nature of mob mentality.

Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are two of my favourite services. Quiet and reflective, somber and meditative they lead us to places where depth of feeling, passion and grief can be released and held in the comfort of community and the love of God.

I often turn, on these days to the poetry of the late Ann Weems. She was a writer, speaker, liturgist and workshop leader. Her book of poetry, Kneeling in Jerusalem walks us through the season of Lent to the glory of Easter. I offer you now one of her poems for this Good Friday

Friday

The sky peels back to purple and thunder slap the thighs of heaven,

and all the tears of those who grieve

fly up to clouds and are released

and drench the earth.

The ones who see and hear know that all is lost.

The only one named Saviour died upon a cross.

The ones who believed and loved huddle together stunned.

All night long the angels weep.

I recently heard a Hollywood actor say that they decided their motto for 2019 will be to say “Yes” to more things. Now I don’t always hold up Hollywood actors as role models but I thought this was a pretty cool idea. Say “Yes” to more opportunities. Say “Yes” to more adventures. Say “Yes” to more possibilities. Just say, “Yes”.

I have been thinking a lot about this during this Holy Week as we walk the road with Jesus who said the ultimate “Yes”, even when he asked God to “let this cup pass”. I wonder how often we say “No” to things that could be life-changing … life-changing in a good way? I know I for one have held back at times. I am not a risk-taker and no one would describe me as daring. But I am dutiful and so when some things come along I do say “Yes” to those … if I think I should! But I think I need to stretch my wings and do a bit more “Yes” saying.

Sometimes the opportunities to say “Yes” feel more like disruptions to our plans. Disruptions that are met with a grumble and a groan and not a “Yes”. I am reminded of the quote from C.S.Lewis, “The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one’s life.” Life brings interruptions that are really opportunities.

I wonder, this Holy Week, if Jesus felt ready to say “Yes”? I wonder if he felt his work was done and the time was right for “Yes”? I wonder if there were moments in the midst of that Thursday and Friday ordeal that he wavered in his “Yes”?

I know this line of thought is different than the Hollywood star who was really talking about things like skydiving and eating new foods but the opportunity to say “Yes” stretches from embracing a life that cherishes the environment, to following God’s call, to a new way of being. All this is saying “Yes” to that mystery and wonder we call God.

What’s coming your way? Can you say, “Yes”?