Sunday Reflection: Starting from a place of belovedness

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Mark 12:29-31.

O Christ,

it's so simple.

All we need to do 

is to love you 

with all that we are

and to love each other

as we love ourselves.

Why do we 

make things so complicated?

Help us to know

our belovedness,

and to love

as you love.

+Amen.

* * * * * * *

One of the things that drives me a little crazy about the faith tradition I grew up with is its insistence on Original Sin. Yes, we are sinners, and yes, we need to frequently ask forgiveness of each other and of God, and yes, I love the sacrament of reconciliation, but it seems to me that if we were better at believing that we are beloved children of God, our deep sense of belovedness would make us into more loving, less sinful people to begin with. So, you might say that I have very little patience for all the sin and redemption language that comes through so loudly in so many Christian denominations, including my own.

My life experiences to this point make it impossible for me to believe that Jesus died for my sins. I think Jesus came to show me how to live with sin and failure by living his own life of goodness and love as the Way for me to follow. But his Way was a threat to the sin economy of the faith leaders of his day, not to mention their temple coffers, and his loving kindness made them look foolish, so they made sure he was crucified. Jesus wasn't about sin, he was about love.

I suspect that's part of the reason why I feel so at home at The Community of Emmanuel, where I spend most of my Sunday mornings with Inner City Pastoral Ministry. Sin language isn't helpful there, where people are already quite broken. It's like kicking us when we're already down. So the old prayer that you find in the rosary after the Glory be is the last thing I would pray there. You know, the one that goes, "O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell..."

The Jesus I know would probably prefer to hear us pray with less emphasis on the negative aspects of sin, and more on the power of love:

Oh my Jesus,

my brother, my friend,

child of the Living God, 

as I am,

let your love shine through us

and help us to care for each other

and all your creation.

+Amen.

That's my prayer, and I'm sticking to it.

Sunday Reflection: Let me see...

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Mark 10:49-52.

You call me.

I throw off my past,

get up and come.

And You ask,

"What do you want Me to do for you?"

Where to begin?!!

"Sometimes I am blind.

"Please, let me see again,

in the way that You see.

"Let me see others

the way You see them.

"Let me see myself

through Your love and forgiveness.

"Let me see Your world

and the little things I can do 

to help it heal.

"Let me see the struggle,

but also the hope

that it's not too late,

for it is faith

that makes all things possible

and that makes me well.

"Thank you for asking, and for helping me to see.

"And even in my moments of blindness,

let me follow You on the Way."

+Amen

* * * * * * *

If you're able, please join us for our musical, meditative ecumenical prayer of Thanksgiving this evening at 7 pm MST, or anytime afterward at https://www.facebook.com/events/1041490756669136

They're So Fine

They've done it again... Double Double has put out a catchy new song with a pretty neat little music video that I can't help but share here for your enjoyment. 

I've been following the band's work quite closely because I happen to know them, and this tune has been one of my favourites since the very first time I heard it in a crowded little place on Whyte Avenue. It's taken directly from the lives of two band members who relied on long-distance phone calls for a while because their work kept them apart quite a bit in their relationship's beginnings. Big kudos to the video creator(s) -- nice to see the Edmonton skyline in the background of this fun little stroll taken by the band and their musical instruments! The walkers, in order, are Neil, Christina, Jessamy, and Landon.

If you like this tune as much as I do, you can add it to your music through most of the big music apps: here's are links to Spotify and Bandcamp. And if you leave the band a comment, I'm sure they'd love to hear your feedback. 

Way to go, Double Double and friends! And Matt, I love the video! Well done.

A small tribute to Dr. Walter Moser

Walter, centre, playing French horn

When I walked (with considerable trepidation) into the Ed North amphitheatre for the first class of my university education, I had no idea that I was about to meet an important new friend, though I wouldn't actually call him friend for some years.  

Two professors stood on the stage, only one whose name I can clearly remember. The younger man, dressed in corduroys and a loud sweater, left no lasting impression on me other than his clothing, but the elder, Dr. Walter Moser, wore suit and tie and had a thick Austrian accent that took a few minutes for me to understand. Once my ear had acclimatized, I found myself fascinated -- and amused -- by him and his dry sense of humour, as he taught us basic undergrad biology.

I looked forward to Dr. Moser's lectures much more than the other prof's. I can't really remember any lecture details so many years later, but I do remember Dr. Moser's little jokes, usually directed at himself. He would rattle through his notes and chuckle whenever something about the natural world amused him, when his chalk broke, or the slide projector malfunctioned, or a student question struck him as particularly interesting. Because the class was large, I don't think I ever interacted with him directly, just completed what he called "multiple guess" exams, and was sad when the class ended in December that year and there would be no more of Dr. Moser's gentle humour in my life.

Fast forward maybe eight years. At the end of a Taizé Prayer evening at St. Paul's United Church on campus, my very musical friend, Karen, was helping me lead the prayer with only guitar, voices, and her trumpet. As we often did, we asked if there were any musicians in the crowd who would be willing to help us lead our monthly musical meditation. 

We'd asked the same question many times without results, but this time, a couple approached and explained that they were delighted to find our prayer, that Walter played french horn and cello, Clara played piano and flute, and that they had come very early to the prayer, expecting the church to be so full that they might not get seats. They had heard about Taizé from a friend in Innsbruck who had been there, and they were very excited about joining our music group. And so, as Clara recently reminded me, they joined our very next rehearsal in my living room a few weeks later, using music I had photocopied for them until they could purchase their own books.

From then on, Clara and Walter became invaluable members of our musicians' group, and a beautiful and prayerful musical collaboration was born. Karen and I took to calling Walter "the Maestro" because he had a fine sensibility when it came to how the music should be sung and played -- I fondly remember him reminding us to go gently on the words "in laetitia" and suggesting not to sing "Dona la pace, Signore" so heavily -- "You're singing about peace, make it peaceful, but with longing!" The Mosers also brought many friends to make music, and where it had once only been Karen and me, we nearly had an orchestra!

After a few years of praying together at our monthly prayer evenings, the Mosers took a trip to Basel, Switzerland, and decided to experience Taizé themselves. It took them three trains and a bus to get to la Communité, and they thoroughly enjoyed their week there. Having an extra day before their train would take them back to Switzerland, they wanted to remain in Taizé, but their room was spoken for by new visitors. 

Having heard me announce at the beginning of many prayer evenings that Taizé was a small village "not far" from the town of Cluny in France, they  decided they could walk from Taizé to Cluny. After all, the bus ride had been only a few minutes between the two villages. Of course, after a few kilometers of carrying their heavy suitcase between them, they found themselves standing on the winding, shoulder-less road from Cluny to Taizé laughing hard. "Not far!" Clara exclaimed as she told me the story upon their return, and they both laughed again, wiping at their eyes, "it was 15 km!"

Not long after Clara and Walter's trip to Taizé we had a mix-up with music that Walter inadvertently blamed on me. He could sometimes come across as a bit gruff, and I was quite surprised by his reaction to a bit of confusion at one evening prayer. What happened was that, at Taizé, he had bought new music books with different page numbers than the North American books, and neither of us knew it beforehand. Being a very organized man, he was upset about having to scramble to find the right music, flipping pages and missing the start of each song, and he let me know in no uncertain terms.

When I pointed out the difference between our books, he was mortified to realize that he had blamed me for an honest mistake. A few days later, a package arrived in the mail with a letter of apology, an index of songs listed by titles, page numbers, and the books in which they appeared, and a music book with the "right" page numbers, matching his. It is my favourite music book because of its inscription: "From Walter Moser to MARIA." I am still deeply touched by his determination to make things right.

I don't know how long it took for me to connect the Austrian cellist with the Austrian biology prof. Longer than it should have! I think, though, it might have happened when we had a music rehearsal at Clara and Walter's acreage east of Edmonton, and he made a joke that finally reminded me of the man who stood on the stage at the Ed North amphitheatre. Walter seemed to be quite serious a lot of the time, but his eyes twinkled with mischief when glee broke through... and I'm sure that's what helped me to finally make the connection between Dr. Moser in my university years and Maestro Walter.

Regardless, I'm sure it was shortly after I told him that I had been a student of his when he and Clara invited me to bring my kids for time in the great outdoors. I don't have any really good pictures of Walter, but this is my favourite -- him wandering along their acreage cross country ski/hiking trail with my two-year-old in hot pursuit! The kids had a lovely time learning about life at the edge of the pond, chasing butterflies, and roasting wieners for lunch. I'm not sure they remember that outing anymore, but I will never forget it -- warm hospitality, and child-appropriate biology lessons.

Walter and Clara's involvement in our Taizé musicians' group lasted several years, until they decided it was time to "retire." Their absence left a huge hole in the rich music we had enjoyed making together... it was back to guitar, voices and flute (if we were lucky) -- no more cello, horn, sax, or piano, as several of the other musicians that came with the Mosers also moved on. But I kept Clara and Walter on the email list to let them know of our prayer evenings, hoping they could join us now and then.

In February of 2020, just before Covid-19, I received an email from Clara to let me know that she and Walter were downsizing and had some extra Taizé music books -- could I use them? So I had a lovely cup of tea with Clara (Walter was napping) and brought home more Taizé music books than I know what to do with. I wish I had seen Walter then, because now he is gone -- Karen called last week to let me know he has recently passed away.

Dr. Walter Moser was a biology professor who, I'm sure, inspired many of his students. I can't begin to speak to all that he accomplished in his years in academia because I don't know very much about that side of him. I am quite sure that he was a devoted father and grandfather (probably great-grandfather by now) just by the way he treated my own children, and that he passed his love of music on to his very musical family.

If you are someone with a story of Walter, or if you knew him better as Dr. Moser and don't mind sharing something in the comments below, I think that would be a wonderful thing. Because his academic career was mostly before our internet age, and because he was a humble man, it's next to impossible to know about him because he flew under the world's radar when it comes to fame and fortune. But those of us who loved him know him as someone very special, and our stories about him are definitely worth sharing.

What I know for certain is that my time with Walter the musician proved that he was a friend who was gentle, funny, talented, kind, and passionate about music -- and prayer. I will never forget the twinkle in his eye and the kindness in his smile. Certain people leave indelible marks on the hearts of those they meet, and he has definitely left his mark on mine. 

Hugs and heartfelt condolences to Clara and the family. 

Dear Walter, I look forward to making more beautiful music with you in the great beyond! I'm so grateful that you were so much more than a single-term biology professor in my life. Thank you for all the joy you brought, and the beauty of your soulful cello and exultant French horn that still resonate somewhere in my heart and soul.

Rest in peace, my friend.

Sunday Reflection: Approaching God's grace with boldness

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Hebrews 4:16.

Creator,

St. Paul invites us today

to approach your throne of grace

with boldness.

Today is also the third anniversary 

of my broken heart.

So I approach to ask you

for love, light, healing and wholeness

for the one who broke my heart,

for me,

and for all whose hearts are broken.

I also pray that the civic leaders

for whom Albertans are voting tomorrow

will step up 

and care for all,

but especially the broken-hearted

who are cold 

on our streets

with winter not far off.

Your grace is what holds us all.

Help us all to be your grace

for each other

and to bring your grace

wherever it's most needed.

+Amen

* * * * * * *

I was very fortunate to take a course on Children's Literature when I was in university, and this battered and well-beloved paperback was my favourite textbook in that class. T. H. White's whimsical tale of the young Arthur before he found The Sword in the Stone was such fun to read compared to the sleep-inducing stuff from other classes I had to take for my education degree. 

Chapter 21 in particular really moved me. White's recounting of Badger's Treatise -- on the story of the creation of the creatures on the fifth and sixth biblical days -- gave me a different image of our Three-In-One Creator, whose love for all they made shines through in the dialogue. I wish the author had been a bit more careful with his pronouns throughout (he got it right toward the end), and though I've always had issues with God setting "man" above the rest of all creation, given that the story was first published in 1939, I guess we have to take it as it is. 

Enjoy this little piece about the moment when all of creation approached the Creator's grace with boldness, shared out of my broken down and rubber-banded but no-pages-missing copy of Terence Hanbury White's The Sword in the Stone, (ISBN 0-440-98445-9, Dell Publishing Co, New York, NY © 1939, Twenty-third printing -- Sept 1983). And I'd recommend the entire book as a delightful read! You should be able to find a copy that's not falling apart at your library. 

* * * * * * *

 The Badger’s Treatise – from the end of Chapter 21 in T. H. White’s The Sword in the Stone

"People often ask as an idle question whether the process of evolution began with the chicken or the egg. Was there an egg out of which the first chicken came, or did a chicken lay the first egg? I am in a position to state that the first thing created was the egg.

"When God had manufactured all the eggs out of which the fishes and the serpents and the birds and the mammals and even the duck-billed platypus would eventually emerge, he called the embryos before him, and saw that they were good.

"Perhaps I ought to explain… that all embryos look very much the same. They are what you are before you are born, and, whether you are a peacock or a cameleopard or a man, when you are an embryo you look just like a peculiarly repulsive and helpless human being…

"The embryos stood up in front of God, with their feeble hands clasped politely over their stomachs and their heavy heads hanging down respectfully, and God addressed them.

"He said: ‘Now you embryos, here you are, all looking exactly the same, and We are going to give you the choice of what you are going to be. When you grow up you will get bigger anyway, but We are pleased to grant you another gift as well. You may alter any parts of yourselves into anything which you think would be useful to you in after life. For instance, at the moment you can’t dig. Anybody who would like to turn his hands into a pair of spades of garden forks is allowed to do so. Or, to put it another way, at present you can only use your mouths for eating with. Anybody who would like to use his mouth as an offensive weapon, can change it by asking, and be a corkindrill or a saber-toothed tiger. Now then, step up and choose your tools, but remember that what you choose you will grow into, and will have to stick to.’

"All the embryos thought the matter over politely, and then, one by one, they stepped up before the eternal throne. They were allowed two or three specializations, so that some chose to use their arms as flying machines and their mouths as weapons, or crackers, or drillers, or spoons, while others selected to use their bodies as boats and their hands as oars. We badgers thought very hard and decided to ask three boons. We wanted to change our skins for shields, our mouths for weapons, and our arms for garden forks. These boons were granted to us. Everybody specialized in one way or another, and some of us in very queer ones. For instance, one of the lizards decided to swap his whole body for blotting paper, and one of the toads who lived in the antipodes decided simply to be a water-bottle.

"The asking and the granting took up two long days – they were the fifth and sixth, so far as I remember – and at the very end of the sixth day, just before it was time to knock off for Sunday, they had got through all the little embryos except one. This embryo was Man.

"‘Well, Our little man,’ said God. ‘You have waited till the last, and slept on your decision, and We are sure you have been thinking hard all the time. What can We do for you?’

"‘Please, God,’ said the embryo, ‘I think that You made me in the shape which I now have for reasons best known to Yourselves, and that it would be rude to change. If I am to have my choice I will stay just as I am. I will not alter any of the parts which You gave to me, for other and doubtless inferior tools, and I will stay a defenseless embryo all my life, doing my best to make unto myself a few feeble implements out of the wood, iron and other materials which you have seen fit to put before me. If I want a boat I will endeavor to construct it out of trees, and if I want to fly I will put together a chariot to do it for me. Probably I have been very silly in refusing to take advantage of your kind offer, but I have done my best to think it over carefully, and now hope that the feeble decision of this small innocent will find favour with Yourselves.’

"‘Well done,’ exclaimed the Creator in delighted tones. ‘Here, all you embryos, come here with your beaks and whatnots to look upon Our first Man… the only one who has guessed Our riddle, out of all of you, and we have great pleasure in conferring upon him the Order of Dominion of the Fowls of the Air, and the Beasts of the Earth, and the Fishes of the Sea. Now let the rest of your get along, and love and multiply, for it is time to knock off for the week-end. As for you, Man, you will be a naked tool all your life, though a user of tools: you will look like an embryo till they bury you, but all others will be embryos before your might; eternally undeveloped, you will always remain potential in Our image, able to see some of Our sorrows and to feel some of Our joys. We are partly sorry for you, Man, and partly happy, but always proud. Run along then, Man, and do your best. And listen, Man, before you go…’

"‘Well?’ asked Adam, turning back from his dismissal.

"‘We were only going to say,’ said God shyly, twisting their hands together. ‘Well, We were just going to say, God bless you.’"

Sunday Reflection: Thanksgiving pants

You know,

O God,

how I've been struggling

to believe

that you are there

and care for every individual, 

for every so-called sparrow 

that falls.

Are you just

a story we tell ourselves

to feel better

in the face of hard realities?

I have been feeling that way

a lot lately

because of many things.

And then

a young woman is found 

shivering under a blanket,

naked,

on our back step of

the Community of Emmanuel,

the community where you-are-with-us

this Thanksgiving morning,

Our pastor asks me 

to be present with her 

on the very day

that I have finally brought along

a pair of pants

that was too long for me

but hemmed too short,

pants

that were forgotten 

in the back corner of my dresser drawer

for at least two years.

Which, 

of course,

fit her perfectly.

Random occurrence

or God-incidence?

I'm told

that belief in you 

is in my DNA,

but lately,

it's been a challenge

to believe it.

Thank you

for today's more tangible reminders,

and the little nudge of the Spirit

that made me turn back 

(though I was running late)

for those perfectly fitted pants for her

even before anyone knew she was there.

Thank you for life, 

its struggles and challenges

and these serendipities

that seem to say

you are there

in spite of my doubts.

+Amen.

Watching the birds bathe, and other stories

 It's been a busy end of summer and early autumn. You can tell by these two pictures that we've been working hard to put the garden to bed...

September 14th

October 7th

What you don't see is the missing flagpole. It was right in the middle of our onion patch, and had to be removed so our neighbour's power lines could reach his renovated home next door to us. Lee worked extremely hard to move mounds of soil because its base was encased in concrete that went down six feet. Then he had to take a sledge hammer to break up the concrete, and we managed to give the pole away on Kijiji a few days later.

All that's left in our garden now are the pepper plants in the covered box, a few carrots and beets that can wait until after frost, and the garlic that I planted this afternoon. I'll leave the borage and other flowering plants until they no longer provide food for the bees that are still buzzing around, then compost them, too.

The real reason for this post is to share a little video. While I was planting garlic this afternoon, there was quite a commotion behind me in our garden birdbath, and I realized that I was being splashed by a noisy group of sparrows who hadn't noticed me. 

Of course, when I turned around, they all took off, and the next thing I knew they were bathing in our little fountain instead. Our greenhouse/shed window faces it, so I went into the shed, waited for a few minutes, and took the little video below with my daughter in mind. She loves the birds in our yard, but doesn't see them as often since she left home last spring. 

So Suzanna, this one's for you... and, of course, for the rest of my handful of readers. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

International Teacher's Day 2021

I was a teacher once, many years ago, but turned those skills toward parenting my own kids, and somehow never got back to the classroom. I have the deepest respect for teachers, especially in these build-the-plane-as-you-fly-it days of covid. Teachers are miracle workers who deserve our undying appreciation as they inspire and guide our young people to be whole, and hopefully, happy and healthy members of our society. It's a tall, tall order to do what they do!

A first year teacher (me)
and some of her students

So here's an exercise to mark World Teacher's Day, which was established in 1994 to commemorate the signing of an important Recommendation Concerning the Status of  Teachers by the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and the UN International Labour Organization -- fifty-five years ago today.

The exercise is simple but challenging. Name the significant teachers in your life, people who have taught you, people who have taught important people in your life (I've included some of my colleagues and my kids' teachers, too). I'm sure I've missed quite a few, and it was definitely challenging to remember some of their first names, but here are the ones I am thinking of today:

Lillian Howrish, Alida Janzen, Violet Hansen, Florence Carson, Aline Collins, Gloria Vilbrunt, Robert Motut, Julian Usyk, Rick Lemieux, Ken Donnelly, Collin Collister, Bob Chorney, Diane Washuta, Heather Bedford-Clooney, Palma Covelli, Lorraine Gallant, Karen Douziech, Fr. Fee Otterson, Gary Kozens, Lee Vilbrunt, George Stepney, George Fortier, Gina Charbonneau, Glen Kirkland, David Leigh, Dr. Eileen Conway, Fr. David Louch, Dr. Walter Moser, Fr. Tim Scott, Dr. Olenka Bilash, Dr. Barbara DeLuna, Ingrid Zukiwsky, Dr. Bob Ware, Dr. Ron Stephens, Arthur Szynkowski, Pat Dusyk, Kathy Dekker, Michael Marien, Shirley Marien, Pat Turner, Monique Gratrix, Maria Lentz, Sr. Teresita Kambeitz, Shirleyan Threndal, Fr. Dave Norman, Lucille Lewans-Rezac, Fr. Ron Rolheiser, Louise Potvin, Fr. Don MacDonald, Fr. Paul Fachet, Bishop Gerry Wiesner, Ruthie Wasylenko, Gilles Denis, Michelle Widynowski, Priscille Jong, Janice Barton, Margaret Bujold, Richard Beaudoin, Michelle Dupuis, Karen Koester, Moira Hecker, Dr. Tracy Bear, and last but definitely not least, Jeanine, my dear sister.

How many can you name from your life?

Heartfelt gratitude to all teachers today! They deserve it, now more than ever. 

If you are able to express your appreciation to a teacher in person or online, go for it!

A belated anniversary moodling

Next spring's bulbs (178 of them)

When the leaves change and we reach Autumn Equinox, these Simple Moodlings close another year. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking to start my online moodling (love letters to the world) at harvest time, when there's so much to do in the garden before that first frost, which seems to be arriving late this year thanks (but no thanks) to climate change. It's definitely not the best time to be marking a moodle-versary, with produce to process, spring bulbs to plant, and a garden to put to bed.

But at the same time, it's a season for slowing down and taking stock. The colours change, the days get shorter, and my spirit starts to relax into a deeper awareness of light and darkness, warmth and coolness, and the gift of time in general. As I watch the squirrels tucking our oak tree's acorns away for the winter, I am tucking away summer memories, and relishing the good muscle aches from spreading compost and collecting leaves to make next year's good black humus.

Life is a never ending cycle, and seeing the leaves fall in this covid season brings to mind the many losses and changes created by this pandemic. I think of all those we have lost to the virus, people who are slowly recovering from its effects, our medical people who are struggling to move forward as our healthcare system is being overwhelmed, and I wonder, at times, how our world will continue to function. Some days it's hard to imagine. But we keep on going.

On this feast of St. Francis, at this time when so many are so seriously ill with covid and there are still so many on our planet to be protected from it -- especially those with no access to vaccines, and children under 12 -- I ask the little saint of simplicity to pray for us, that we all do the right thing, not only for ourselves, but for our world as a whole. As I move into this 12th year of online moodling, I wish all my readers safe journeys through the darker months ahead.

May we all have the resilience of the bulbs I've buried deep in my front yard, and emerge into next spring's sunshine after a period of protecting the vulnerable through our patience, perseverance... and peace.

Gold strewn everywhere

Walking along the river valley this week has been breathtaking. Who needs that yellow ore mined from the depths of the earth when it's on all the trees once a year?

When I get to heaven, I'm going to ask God why they gave humans and magpies the desire for shiny things even as they filled the earth with enough beauty to suffice for all our lifetimes...

Here are a few pictures from this week's walks for your enjoyment. Have a beauty of a weekend!

Quiet Sunday morning river...

Not easy to capture Wednesday's uphill climb, but the sun was right...

This morning's walk home from our downtown dentist...

I hope next year there will be a Folk Music Festival here...

Gold leads me all the way home... where my heart is.