small is holy... a work in progress

Every day is a precious gift. We used to toss those words off as sappy, pious sentimentality, something my grandmother had on her refrigerator magnets back in the day, but now... now it is the unspoken prayer on most of our lips. As I get ready to expand my on-line Sunday morning, live-streaming contemplative programming on Facebook from a short term local event into something more sustained, I find myself energized by the challenge. Sharing some of the poetry that nourishes me, offering quiet reflection on Scripture, prayers spoken from the hearts of friends near and afar, notes of encouragement and solace as well as music for the soul is church for me. Judging from the notes I have received from all over the place over the past few weeks, it is for many of you, too. I look forward to reconnecting with you in this way. Last Sunday I read this poem by Jane Hirshfield late in the day and it captures something of this moment with an aching clarity:  "Today, Another Universe.

The arborist has determined:

senescence     beetles    canker

quickened by drought

       but in any case

not prunable    not treatable    not to be propped.

And so.

The branch from which the sharp-shinned hawks and their mate-cries.

The trunk where the ant.

The red squirrels’ eighty-foot playground.

The bark    cambium    pine-sap    cluster of needles.

The Japanese patterns    the ink-net.

The dapple on certain fish.

Today, for some, a universe will vanish.
First noisily,
then just another silence.

The silence of after, once the theater has emptied.

Of bewilderment after the glacier,
the species, the star.

Something else, in the scale of quickening things,
will replace it,

this hole of light in the light, the puzzled birds swerving around it.

I spent part of the day searching for music to use on my live-stream that is from the public domain. I finally concluded that I will have to just record some of my own tunes until I can figure out the licensing fees. Later I joined my L'Arche Ottawa spirituality team-mates as we played with Zoom in anticipation of our prayer and song time this coming Friday with our friends at Mountainview. All over the world L'Arche communities are in lock down or stay at home and rest mode so we need to find ways to nourish community while practicing distant socializing. After dusting and vacuuming, doing some laundry and straightening up my study, I watched the PBS evening news in prayer. Then I came across these words from Beuchner that also cut deeply:

After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specif example of one."There is only one miracle," he answered, "It is life. (So let me ask you) have you wept at anything during the past year? Has your heart beat faster at the sight of young beauty? Have you thought seriously about the face that someday you are going to die? More often than not do you really listen when people are speaking to you instead of just waiting for your turn to talk? Is there anybody you know in whose place, if one of you had to suffer great pain, you would volunteer  yourself? If your answer to all or most of these questions NO, the chances are that you're already dead."

My grandfather used to say to me, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." Then he would ask me to play "Little Green Apples" for him on my guitar. But I was too cool for such schmaltz and offered "Here Comes the Sun" instead. Which is a great song - but it's not the one Poppa Fred asked for. So on days like this I still regret that I wasn't able to get over myself enough to play that goofy song for him even one time while he was still alive. I would play it over and over today in a heart beat. I am sure you would too.

The live-streaming worship reflections will take place on Sunday mornings at 10 am. I will try using my spiritual direction Facebook page, Be Still and Know: https://www.facebook.com/Be-Still-and-Know-913217865701531. I am calling it: Small Is Holy: Reflection on a Spirituality for an Unsettling Season. I hope you can join me.