tangled up in the unexpected blessings of trinity sunday...

One of the joys I have experienced over the course of my various ministries is staying in touch with a few people from each of the four congregations I have served. Proper and respectful boundaries are always in order, of course. At the same time, the affection, respect, and depth of encounters we have shared over time can never be erased. Nor should they. Sometimes we fall out of touch, as is true for many friends, only to find new ways to reconnect. It is a privilege to still have friendships with folk from Saginaw, Cleveland, Tucson and Pittsfield.

Last night many of my dearest friends - and many of my favorite local musicians - gathered together in the Sanctuary of my last ministry and rocked out to raise funds for the local homeless shelter: Barton's Crossing. There was a wonderful mix of songs and poems - some original tunes, some favorite cover songs - all shared with gusto. In many ways it felt like a healthy family reunion - and this was true for members of the church as well as for the musicians and those who came to celebrate the music. For over ten years we regularly played different benefit concerts in that hallowed hall including our annual Thanksgiving Eve gig. One among us literally grew up as a young man and musician. In August he is enrolled as a full-time music student at the Hartford School of Music. To have him join the band one more time - and have him rock out boldly and beautifully - was a treasure for us all. The same goes for the vocalists and other instrumentalists as well. I said to one old friend, "One of the reasons I cherish doing these shows is because there are NO egos involved. Every single player is there for the love - and it shows." 

I was asked by the current interim minister (who played keyboards, bass and guitar with us in the band) how did it feel to re-enter the Sanctuary after nearly two years? Earlier in the week, I had wondered about that, too. After a short pause, I replied, "It feels right. Grounded. Tender. A lot of beautiful things took place in this place during the ten years I was here. And right now I feel a deep sense of gratitude for it all. There will always be small things that pissed me off, but mostly they have faded. And what remains is a profound love." I heard similar words from the people who spoke to me after the show. The common thread? "You have to do this again! And here! And we'll help out! It really fed our souls to have you bring this musical family back together to care for the wider community."

I agree - and we've already been approached by two other local organizations for benefit shows in the coming year. Most of last night's players signed on for a November gig to support the shelter that protects women leaving abusive relationships. And a gig to create seed work for a local Sanctuary church is in the works, too. Fascinating. It has long been my conviction - and last night's show confirmed it - that I was called by the sacred to bring people together in music-making and poetry to serve the common good. Within the family of musicians, we share a love that was always soul food for me - in addition to truly ecstatic songs. And I believe the affection and respect we share with one another as performers is contagious. It even models a way of being tender that incarnates a balm for our weariness. And, it uses the God-given and human cultivated gifts of excellent writers and musicians to strengthen the web of local relationships in pursuit of compassion. 

Frederick Beuchner once wrote: "Our calling is the place where God asks us to embrace our deepest gladness with the world's deepest need." Not everyone gets that - especially those with a narrow sense of religion. Still, when we strive to find that holy ground of gladness and need, I believe hope and  healing take place. I told the players before the show last night as well as those from the wider community who gathered to rock and roll that "this time will be the union of Bob Dylan's 'Rolling Thunder Review' and Jean Vanier's wisdom. It will be wild and eclectic. And it is built on the foundation that sharing small, non-heroic acts of love is how we meet God." I was even so bold as to say: "Vanier taught us that the antidote to despair, especially in times like our own, is to share love with those who live merely 10 feet away from us. They are the only ones we can really touch anyway. Getting caught up in the angst of suffering beyond our ability to act is a dead-end. Hope comes from living into the 10 foot rule." And time and again I have experienced that wisdom in spades.

So, in a mode of beholding and honoring the blessings God is already bringing to my life as it currently unfolds, in addition to sharing time and love with my dear friends at L'Arche Ottawa come the fall, it looks like some local community music-making is on the horizon. Same, too, with a deeper connection with the local poetry community. What a gift for Trinity Sunday when the diversity of the holy dances together in tender jubilation.