God is tender, gentle and compassionate. So said Pope Francis, Bishop of Rome, and such is my own experience. These ARE the qualities of almightiness, divinity, and supremacy—lest anyone should think otherwise, according to traditional human projections onto God. Nothing is lost in God’s compassionate heart.
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Ever been lost? Lost your way, your direction? Lost a precious possession? A cause you fought for and lost? Your very soul? Apparently, the biblical God loses stuff all the time: the cause of justice and mercy, the divine temper, all followers, the entire promised land, a lamb, a beloved son.
That’s tough going. God rages with deep grief and tears.
Stories that portray God as a loser, that show God having tender moments and painful feelings, like grief and longing, that dethrone God from perfect Love and Almightiness, are the very stories that “find” me whenever I feel lost in some way.
I am of course remembering today the event of 2001 in New York city, my hometown. We call it “NINE-ELEVEN”— a murderous event with many (3000 people) tragic losses that sent waves and shivers of grief and fear throughout our land and beyond. Yes, I can still see, in my mind’s eye, the flaming planes shearing off the top of the towers. Memorials are erected and many still weep. So does God. Why didn’t God prevent this loss? Because God didn’t do it, we did. God grieves and grief helps us claim life anew. God lives in the grief and in the tears of ALL, and in the lingering fears, and in the many ways all living things, Nature and Human Nature alike, get lost.
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People worldwide weep, remember, and grieve collectively over the recent death of Queen Elizabeth II of England. Why? She was their steadfast monarch of 70 years, not ours. Not mine some say, and turn away. They were our enemies. Why should I care? Because God cares. Elizabeth was the world’s royal symbol of steadfast presence through a life full of loss and pain and family chaos—just like us all.
One of my top hits when I was a small child was a song I called “Dom Ring”:
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From ev'ry mountainside
Let freeDOM RING!
The text of this verse was written by Samuel Francis Smith, 1831, student at Andover Newton Theological School in Andover Massachusetts, now located on the campus of Yale Divinity School from which I graduated in 1986.
As a child I knew nothing of patriotism. These men were not my fathers. I didn’t know any pilgrims on mountainsides. I knew however that this song meant wonderful things. So I lustily sang.
The tune is the same as the one England sings, now and always, on all occasions of life and death, for their country and their royalty: “God save our gracious queen ….” All history required of them was to change the gender role from King to Queen. But the tune remains the same.
God save our gracious QUEEN!
Long live our noble QUEEN!
God save the QUEEN!
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the QUEEN. Let freeDOM RING.
The hymn and the anthem were written at times of war between enemies, both fighting for freedom and power or whatever other foolishness we human connive at. Still, the music itself binds, carries. It never takes side. Nor does God who keeps on singing, grieving, weeping, losing and finding us all in us all. Sing on!
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FINALE: The Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra, conducted by Canadian/Ukrainian, Keri-Lynn Wilson, and including some recent refugees, some of whom shed tears and spoke of how hard this emergent orchestra was at first, because, as a young women bassoonist said, “We had never played together before. It was a mess, but then we took off.” One violinist said he was so bereft he had no idea what he could do, feeling the loss of his parents and others still trapped in Ukraine. Then he remembered he was a musician. He had a gift to give. And they played with tenderness, gentleness, and emotional depth. Ms. Wilson.
I heard their concert last night from Lincoln Center in, again, my home town. The music took my breath away, kept me spellbound, drew many tears to my eyes and down my cheeks, and reassured me, once again, that nothing is lost in God’s compassionate almighty heart—NOTHING.
