CREATE A BUZZ
SIP LIFE’S MOMENTS
MIND YOUR OWN BEESWAX
WOTK TOGETHER
ALWAYS FIND YOUR WAY HOME
STICK CLOSE TO YOUR HONEY
BEE YOURSELF
These are the things children or teens do best. Can we do these things as we age?
I bet I can create a buzz. It might shock innocent souls but hey!
Ain’t that the point, honey?
Courtesy of Mercy Associates, Mercy Day, 2024
I love traveling along with Jesus in Mark’s gospel, the first one written. Mark gets excited easily as he sees and hears and learns new things. He moves along fast, hopping from place to place. His astonishment is catching. Jesus is going where? Saying what? OMG! Why does Jesus tell them not to tell? It’s almost as if Jesus himself hardly knows what he’s doing or exactly why? Some leaders love crowds. Not this one! He’s a follower himself.
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Notice the comeuppance the Syrophoenician woman received when she begged him for healing. He has neither time nor inclination NOR divine commission to do this.Why? Because this woman is NOT one of his people, those with whom he is affiliated, those to whom he has been sent.
He sends her away, saying, “Let the children of the household satisfy themselves at table first. It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.”
She counters: “Yes, Rabbi, but even the the dogs under the table eat the family’s scraps.”
Jesus replies: "For saying this, you may go home happy; the demon has left your daughter.” When she got home, she found the daughter in bed and the demon gone.”
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Jesus moves along and is hard to follow. But you’re a reporter! He’s news! BUT there’s no travel plan, no AAA. Why here? Why now? Does he know what he’s doing? It’s impossible NOT to follow and just as impossible to follow. What do you do? I’d follow.
Pretty soon some others brought a man deaf and with speech impediments to him for healing if possible. This time Jesus did much more than place his hands on the deaf man, though first he took the man aside and away from the crowd, placed his fingers into the deaf ears, spat and then touched the mute’s tongue with his saliva. Then Jesus looked up to heaven and, with a deep sigh, said Ephphatha!—that is, “Be opened.” At once the deaf ears were opened and the impediment cured; the one who had been healed began to speak plainly.
Why did Jesus move away from the crowds? Did he know what he was doing? What if it didn’t work? His healing gesture was so radical, so intimate, even dangerous. He looks to heaven and “sighs” deeply. Is he looking to his Abba for an assist? Assurance? Help? Ephphatha! Jesus “ordered” them to tell no one. They raced home to tell. Wouldn’t you?
This morning I awoke with a little fantasy image of a bunch of lively Jewish children at a beach in Israel looking out at the Sea of Galilee. The children had met Jesus on the beach and were all excited that this guy was having a cookout for them and serving them hot dogs with mustard. Imagine. The kids were thrilled, covered with mustard and ketchup, plus this Jesus guy’s offering them forbidden beach food in the morning!
He also had given them each a hug, even the one who was scared of disobeying the Law. Jesus told them that God loved each of them for being special, and loved every single morsel of this whole world the same. TOTAL MERCY.
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I have been an Associate of the Sisters of Mercy for over thirty years now and very grateful at 86 still to have a mind that prays and reads.
What I am reading just now is Sister Elizabeth Johnson's book, "Come, Have Breakfast” Orbis Books, 2024, written “For people who band together at the international, national, and local levels to protect Earth's land, water, and air and all living beings . . ."
What I love the most about Sister Elizabeth's book is her, let's call it, panoramic view of all Creation as if the eye of a needle were actually big enough for a whole herd of camels to pass through, or the entire spiritual community of Life to be seen—not to mention that the risen Jesus, certified long dead, yet still serving breakfast as a cookout on the beach.
Such enormous envisioning forces me to expand my image of Divinity itself and envision God not as expendable but expandable.
I grew up in New York City, my child's eye view was crowded out by skyscrapers. Nevertheless I trained my eye upwards until I saw God in the spaces between those buildings, leading me in time to write a book called The God Between Us, and to see Creation itself as accompaniment not possession, God being quite free of gender, color, class, caste, ethnicity, species, and even, yes, any one brand of religion.
Thank you, Sister Elizabeth, for such mercies and Mercy.
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And thanks to all: my spouse, all our children, all my friends and family, and that Amazing Grace always near and present to us all through it all.
I’m detaching from the political scenario—not because I don’t care but because I do care.
We watched VP Harris’s interview on CNN. Her address got almost lost, bobbing up and down amidst so many ads it was annoying. I know that I will vote and for whom. I can get all the info I need from newspapers, from general news from the public television we watch nightly, and from people in this retirement community whose politics shows on their faces and in their behavior, or if not, in their excesses of commentary or their avoidance thereof.
Political “debates” are silly, because they are not debates over issues, but simply political sales pitches thrown back and forth.
Both candidates have been clear about their own values, and plans. I admit I have noticed former President Trump wobbling and stumbling over words and focus. Could he perhaps be too old for this job?
Watching a TV astronaut drama last night, I saw a cosmic view of the Universe.Yes, I knew it was an image for the show, and yes, my heart sang the hymn we sang as children.
LORD OF ALL TO THEE WE RAISE
THIS OUR HYMN OF GRATEFUL PRAISE.
I vote for good cartoons, laughter among friends, family, all guests, invited and uninvited, my own ongoing talks with the God who listens without a lot of palaver.
Presence. Breathing. Hope without fear.
Start by looking in the mirror—over and over. Smile at yourself. Salute yourself. You’ll see yourself as beloved, in truth.
As it’s written in the New Testament, Ephesians 4:14-15: “Speaking the truth in love, grow up in every way into Christ.” The author of these words has never been fully established, just as Christ is not tied down to the earthly Jesus, nor to Job’s healing vision—frighteningly, openly, inclusively divine, all holy.
Do you remember that little phrase “Bloom where you’re planted”? I always thought it was hopelessly corny and immature. Now I wonder.
Of course that phrase must be in the Holy Bible, somewhere— a selection of writings all of them equally holy. Paul, thanks to his verbosity and long-winded speeches could even see himself as speaking truth in love, because he was a plodder determined to seek and find Divinity in everything and everyone, including himself.
Each person makes his/her/their path, takes that path, veers from that path, returns to that path, and so on. I have tried many times in my own life to discern and tie down the HOLY. I have sought advice from many sources—all of them helpful yet none of them permanently perfect.
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The HOLY is of God, and therefore compels me to seek it in all things, great and small.
-Gazing out the window a friend sees the trees moving and imagines that God is waving at him.
-A young child kneels at the altar rail, discovers he can’t see, looks around seeking guidance, places one small hand on the railing, pulls himself up to stand on the kneeling cushion, sticks his other small hand out to receive a communion wafer. There is a moment of hesitation, then the priest winks and places a wafer that looks nothing like bread into his small hand. The child fists the bread, pops it into his mouth, then turns and runs back down the aisle.
-The 2024 Democratic Convention, gathered and viewed from above—every color, gender, ethnicity, political persuasion, religion, class, on and on.
-Here is a photo of a very large Weeping Beech tree that stands at the entrance of Mercy Center in Madison, Connecticut. It's lush in the summer, however, whatever the season or the reason, this tree stands to welcome all of those who seek the Holy in silence or through a spiritual direction program. The tree tells me I am in a holy place, that all who come here seek and find holiness, and also that all seasons and seekers are holy in the expansive language of our One Holy Creator/Creating God.
Below stands this tree in winter dress. Holy, eh?
Finally a tiny baby, holy sloth, held up by a human hand.
Transition.Tradition. Prayer.
Now this, it seems to me, is a grounded and love-inspiring prayer to say in a parish church, in any gathered community, in any country, at your own dining table, even alone—anywhere. It’s about coming together for its own sweet sake.
Gracious and loving God, you know the needs of your Church in every place; look graciously upon us, the people of All Saints, and grant us the guidance of your Holy Spirit through this time of transition and discernment. Bless us with mutual trust, respect, and courage, for each other, and give us wisdom and confidence in your timing. May we continue to be strengthened in our mission to “come and be fed, seek and love God, and serve each person as Christ.” All this we ask in your Name.
The prayer is being used by a parish in transition in the Convocation of Episcopal Churches in Europe. Many thanks to the Rt. Rev. Mark Edington, Bishop of the Convocation, for posting this on his Facebook page.
Does it seem odd to you that so many of us talk about the need for community and peace and reconciliation for peace—and yet we often continue to preach, teach and escalate warlike behavior?
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I don’t know about you, but as I age I feel lonely, and it’s not because there are no people around, nor because I am living alone with no husband or roommate; nor is it because I am mildly disabled, nor because my dear husband is inattentive. I could be lazy of course, but………..
So why do so many of us Americans feel this isolation? Years ago I read a small and I thought silly book by Robert Putnam called “Bowling Alone.” I remember thinking it was a strange idea Obviously, no one bowls alone—really.
When I was a college freshman we had to select a sport. I chose bowling, thinking it the least stressful since it was duckpins and the alley was usually empty since no one chose bowling as their sport. I was lonely bowling alone! Putnam advocated bowling teams! Social isolation is bad for one’s health. Too much INdependence increases loneliness.
The retirement community where we now live trumpets its core value: aging in place independently—an oxymoronic term in itself. Hardly a day goes by that most of us do not experience some symptom of the aging process, mentally, physically or psychologically. Some of us, including myself, live with a spouse but most live alone.
A common fear seems to be falling. We have learned that a call to 911 will bring local police to execute a “lift assist” should we not have the strength to get up. Some of us spend the money for lifelines to wear around our neck. Once I had to fish about in a neighbor’s bodice to find her lifeline to call for help. I am not the only one who feels sudden alarm whenever I hear the approach of an ambulance. Where is it going? Who are the sirens for? Who is on that stretcher? Who died? If I call for information I am told about HIPAA ie. we can’t legally reveal medical info about, and we certainly cannot tell you if someone died. I read the obit before the news.
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Robert Putnam recently wrote an essay published in the N.Y Times Magazine, July 21, 2024. He asserted that we must create community which requires energy and investment—social capital. Putnam identified two types of social capital—bonding and bridging. Bonding capital means sticking with others who are like you. Bridging capital is sticking with those who are not like you. I did not think of bowling, I thought of American partisan politics right now.
Obviously, bonding is easier than bridging, yet we need both kinds of social capital to create COMMUNITY-in-PLACE— the only ground fertile enough for us all to nourish God, self, neighbor and neighborhood—all at once.
