Shining Spirit

“Black and blue” usually has a connotation of pain or suffering, but not in the case of the Stellar’s Jay. This beautiful bird stopped by for breakfast the other day, just outside my window. He seemed to enjoy the breadcrumbs, ate his fill, gave me a wink, and off he flew. But my day was all the better for having this guest for breakfast. Maybe you won’t have a breakfast guest today, but you will have the opportunity to find at least one object of beauty nearby, take time to be with it in thought or thankful prayer, sit quietly in memories. Might be an object on a shelf, a view from your window, the face of a friend in your memory. Look around. You live in wonder. You are wonder embodied. The Stellar’s Jay is just another bird compared to you. Fly today. 

The photo you see here was taken after 8 p.m. in complete darkness. The Moon, surrounded by little white dots, stars, is the prominent feature. I share it with you for this reason: Light shines through darkness. The darkness cannot overcome it. Even in a pitch black night, it is still there. Even when my spirit, my soul, is dark, it is there. This is the message of the Christian Gospel, isn’t it. There is a strong echo of Genesis 1 and an affirmation of the claim of Jesus: ”I am the light of the world…” Right here in my backyard…yours, too. When I take time and pay attention, I become aware of many reminders and affirmations of the presence and power of The Light. Even when you can’t see it, it’s there. Live in that Light today. 

How can a bird fly without sky,
a fish swim in sand,
a light make sense expect to be shown?
How can the world function 
without music?
I woke this morning dry and vacant,
confined to the boundaries of sameness.
Today will look like yesterday
which is a forecast of tomorrow.
In a thoughtless effort to block out the painful
silence in my spirit, I stuck
pieces of what plastic in my ears,
tapped a musical note symbol on the
electronic device that both links me to and
separates me from reality, and
felt a vibration in my soul, the sound
of flood water coursing through the
dry river bed, rounding the bend,
exploding into playful gurgles and
clapping waves of delight.
My body moved.
My heart moved.
The curtain went up in my mind and there
was the symphony, on stage, in a crescendo
of harmonies and mystical magic.
May the God of soul cleansing,
life awakening music
know that one individual stands this morning
with arms raised to the sky
in gratitude and awe.
Thank you, Song of my Soul, for music.

An artist has been at work here! Welcome to The Gallery of Gratitude. Amazing how stunning the simple can be. What’s in the gallery where you live? 

“Just gimme a rock! I’ll show that guy!
Stand back and give me room!
He brags and boasts and struts around;
he’s full of gas, that pompous clown!
This day he meets his doom!”

“Now, David, please control yourself,
and look what’s here at hand.
Goliath there is ten feet tall
and you, my lad, are rather small
to take on such a man.

“His armor weighs as much as you;
his spear is twice your height!
Those muscles in his arms are huge
and you? O, David, you will lose
if you pursue this fight.”

“Get out of my way and hand me that stone;
today the giant dies.
That puffed up windbag’s in for a shock.
Let’s see if he likes this jagged rock
between his glaring eyes!

“See how he snarls and stamps his feet;
he tries to look so mean.
He thinks he’s caused us fear today,
but insults hurled are merely a play
to scare us from the scene.

“Well, Goliath, old boy, if you’ll turn just a bit,
a little more profile please.
Wrapped here in my sling is a present for you
delivered expressly from Yahweh and crew.
Let’s see how you look on your knees!”

“O, David,” they cried, “your aim’s found its mark.
Goliath is flat on his face!
We knew all along we could count on you, lad;
never a doubt that the power you had
was sufficient to end this disgrace.”

“That’s strange,” David said. I thought you were sure
that a small man would be in the way.
I remember you saying: ‘Go home to your sheep’,
that only the big men were able to keep
the giant from claiming the day.”

One little rock and one little man!
And now the people all say
that out of the turmoil and fear in the crowd,
David stepped forth, refused to be bowed,
and became a great leader that day.

(A reflection on I Samuel 17)

The woman was sick for eighteen years.
She had lived through sorrow, heartbreak, and tears,
and then one day, at the time for prayer,
she knelt in her anguish and deep despair.

It was then that she felt a gentle touch.
Who, she thought, would dare to do such?
Who would touch a woman like me,
crippled, possessed, as all can see?

His eyes showed compassion as he gave her good news.
“You’re healed of your sickness, you are free to choose
a new way of life as you stand straight and tall.
Stand straight with me now; let’s show them all.”

As she rose to her feet, there was heard a cry
from the synagogue leader standing nearby.
“How dare you heal on the Sabbath day!
You violate Law, you clearly betray

The One who established the sacred Law,
and we, standing here, all clearly saw
that you touched this woman, and that, I contend,
displays the depth of your horrid sin.”

As the now healed woman made her way to the door,
Jesus turned to the man: “There is one thing more.
You are a hypocrite, a fraud and a fake.
You act out religion in order to make

the crowds think you’re holy, above all the rest.
But you, sir, have failed faith’s basic test.
You neglected to love in the midst of her pain.
You do all this for personal gain.”

A murmur was heard to spread through the crowd
until a man finally stood and spoke aloud:
“Today we have heard truth spoken here
and seen love confront irrational fear.

Surely the God we praise in this place
laughs in heaven at the leader’s face
and applauds the courage it took to say
that grace and mercy will show us the way.”

(A reflection on Luke 13:10)

Habit: an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary. I have one. It’s called the Manzanita News & Espresso. A very “homey” feeling, very friendly folks, interesting art work on the walls, wonderful pastries, even a community bulletin board where you can rummage through all kinds of local news and upcoming events, (there’s a raffle at the Methodist church around the corner, for instance) and, as one would expect, excellent coffee. The next time you happen to be passing through Manzanita, I recommend it highly. My morning isn’t complete until I have said: “A 16 (oz.) vanilla latte, please.” But, truth be told, and while it’s true that the coffee is excellent, one of the most striking things about the place is the feeling of welcome waiting just inside the door. The unique little building is not a “cookie cutter” coffee establishment. The word “unique” fits it well. The layout, the furnishings, the old building itself seem to say “come on in.” Everyone. 

The deal was sealed for me when, a couple of weeks ago, the paper sign taped to the glass partition near the cash register caught my eye. Everyone is welcome here. Not just the “everyones” who fit traditional norms. If you are hungry, come on in. There’s food here. And if you’re thirsty, drink, too. Doesn’t matter who you are, you are welcome.

That has a very familiar ring to it.

(This is not a paid advertisement. It’s the Gospel truth.)

Friends, this is a tree! One tree, not several trees. It is a living, breathing, life-giving part of creation and it is remarkable. When I see a tree like this, and I don’t often, I let my imagination kick into gear. I have no idea how old this tree is, but you can bet it has seen lots of history go by. Maybe hundreds of years ago someone sat right there under the tree and pondered the stars or the great waters. Might have been your ancestor or mine. Think of the history this tree has witnessed over the centuries. I also wonder how many hurrying people have driven by the tree, noticed it but didn’t really see it, and felt no emotional tug at their souls. Lots, I imagine.

A few decades ago, people concerned about ecology and the treatment of the planet, were called “tree huggers,” remember that? Well, try giving this one a big hug. We should try, because this tree and millions of others have contributed a lot to keeping our planet-home alive, and us with it. Each time I drive by this particular tree here in Oregon, I wave and say hello, and “thank you” for standing strong through storms, tsunamis, and the arrogance of human beings who believe that the purpose of a tree is to be cut down and turned into a street address in Chicago. God dreamed creation into being, fashioned it, breathed life into it, and gave it to us to take care of. And that includes this ancient monument that lives and breathes like we do. We are to be stewards of creation, and it’s time we held up our end of the agreement.

The sea is liquid life, ebbing and flowing, serene and savage, beautiful and frightening. It is never the same from day to day. But the mountain is changeless among the changeable.

God, who is found in the strength of the mountain and in the flexibility of the sea, grant us this day a full measure of both, that we may see and appreciate all the variations and diversities of life while, at the same time, standing in wonder and gratitude for strength and power that are ours from the Spirit that is our constant companion. Guide our way, we pray, so that we may cherish the gifts of this day.
Amen

Talmud is the name of a collection of ancient teachings and stories, a compilation, that is regarded as sacred by the Jewish community of faith. Woven through The Talmud are stories, rich and powerful, that go far beyond Judaism. An example:

When Akiba was on his deathbed, he bemoaned to his rabbi that he felt his life was a failure. His rabbi moved closer and asked why, and Akiba confessed that he had not lived his life like Moses. The poor man began to cry, admitting that he feared God’s judgment. At this, the rabbi leaned into his ear and whispered gently: “God will not judge Akiba for not being Moses; God will judge Akiba for not being Akiba.”

Admiring someone is one thing, but trying to be that person usually creates big problems. In junior high school, I admired a track star named Eddie. I was pretty swift when I was a kid and I figured that I could get even faster if I could run with the same style and technique as Fast Eddie. His natural running style was rather unique. His arms swung rather wildly and his stride was uncommon, a little half-step when he came off the starting blocks. I am sorry to say that my admiration became idolization. I want to run like Eddie became I want to be Eddie. I changed my style to match his and it was a disaster. No further details necessary, I quickly discovered that I can’t be someone else: the best I can do is to be me.

God will not judge Roger for not being Eddie; God will judge Roger for not being Roger. Maybe this story is one you need to think about, not in reference to someone else, but to yourself? The sacred scripture that I share with my Jewish friends, the Hebrew scriptures I call The Old Testament, is pretty clear: “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.” In my faith, I believe there was no template or construction manual. I am me and you are you, and nobody else is exactly like either one of us. Nobody can explain it, but each of us was put together and given a shove into the world so that we can be uniquely ourselves. For only by being my authentic self will I be able to love you honestly, serve you truthfully and live in this world humbly, knowing that each one of us is on a journey to experience The One who started all this. As I am not you and you are not me, so our life journeys will be different, and I will honor all the differences on my way to re-union, a re-union now, in the present tense. I’m not talking about death and after-life. Home is in the heart of God now, in this moment. There is room enough for all of us.

Perhaps the most profound statement about my life and about the implications of my life is: I am not Eddie.