Simple Moodlings \'sim-pѳl 'mϋd-ѳl-ings\ n: 1. modest meanderings of the mind about living simply and with less ecological impact; 2. "long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering" (Brenda Ueland) of the written kind; 3. spiritual odds and ends inspired by life, scripture, and the thoughts of others
The news is not good in the so-called Holy Land. In fact, it ranks among the unholiest of places on the planet because of the things that have been happening to people there in the past eight days, and long before that.
With so much history of conflict and oppression of different peoples over many centuries, I find it hard to know how to pray for the people caught in the midst of chaos and injustice and terrorism from all sides.
But then I remembered a line about "putting your mouth in the dust to wait for hope," and found something like that in the 3rd chapter of the book of Lamentations. Hope is hard to find, but if you're so inclined, please pray with me for the people in this latest conflict, and for all those oppressed by violence of any kind:
46All our enemies have opened their mouths against us; 47 panic and pitfall have come upon us, devastation and destruction. 48 My eyes flow with rivers of tears because of the destruction of my people.
49 My eyes will flow without ceasing, without respite, 50 until the Lord from heaven looks down and sees. 51 My eyes cause me grief at the fate of all the young women in my city.
52 Those who were my enemies without cause have hunted me like a bird; 53 they flung me alive into a pit and hurled stones on me; 54 water closed over my head; I said, ‘I am lost.’
55 I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit; 56 you heard my plea, ‘Do not close your ear to my cry for help, but give me relief!’ 57 You came near when I called on you; you said, ‘Do not fear!’
Creator God,
be with all those who need you the most right now,
and open the gates of heaven
for all those whose souls suddenly need a home.
We pray, we cry, we lament.
Be with
the people who live in the land
where your child,
Jesus,
came to live with all of humanity,
to show us what your loving compassion looks like.
(I wish I knew whose words these are so I could give credit where it is due. But perhaps it's enough for its writer that we are still praying these words, entitled Celebration of Life, in the inner city Community of Emmanuel (God with us)...
Gratitude to the author...
In the midst of hunger and war,
We celebrate the promise of plenty and peace.
In the midst of oppression and tyranny,
We celebrate the promise of service and freedom.
In the midst of doubt and despair,
We celebrate the promise of faith and hope.
In the midst of fear and betrayal,
We celebrate the promise of joy and loyalty.
In the midst of hatred and death,
We celebrate the promise of love and life.
In the midst of sin and decay,
We celebrate the promise of salvation and renewal.
In the midst of death around us,
We celebrate the presence of the living Christ.
+Amen, hiy hiy.
And Happy Birthday and happy holidays to my sister, Jeanine!
If you are able, please join me in prayer and reflection this Good Friday Evening at 7 pm Mountain Standard Time. Christians from all denominations are welcome to pray in this ecumenical prayer that includes scripture, song, and ten minutes of silence. It's the silence that I particularly love, and knowing that I am not alone in it, that there are other people praying with me.
Every life is touched by suffering, and Good Friday is the day when Christ shows us how to suffer, and how to love beyond suffering. Tonight's scripture will be proclaimed in English, French, and Ukrainian, and we will sing of the mystery of Good Friday in a few different languages using chants from the Taize Community.
All are welcome. Please share this livestreamed event with your friends -- praying together, even online and at a distance, is a powerful thing. If the 7 p.m. timeslot doesn't work for you, the video will be available for at least 24 hours.
This morning I was busy sifting compost at the back of our garden when the cell phone in my pocket rang. PRIVATE NUMBER, the screen said. Usually I ignore numbers I don't recognize, but for some reason, at the last minute, instead of sticking the phone back in my pocket, I pulled off my dirty garden glove and hit the answer button.
"Is this the prayer line? My name is John, and I really need someone to pray with me right now."
I was very confused about where this call was coming from, but because of volunteering with the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul and Inner City Pastoral Ministry, and other experiences in my past, offering prayers for people in need comes pretty naturally to me, so I decided to go with the flow.
"Well, John, I'm not sure about which prayer line you were trying to reach, but I'm just standing at my compost pile sifting compost. I am also a believer, so I can pray with you if you like, if you don't mind that I'm covered in compost."
"Okay," John said, laughing. "You can keep sifting your compost, but I'm kinda struggling with a lot of things. How much time you got?"
"Plenty. What's on your heart right now that needs prayers?" I asked.
John told me how his wife recently left him, but didn't take her 80-something mother along with her, and how he's struggling to know what to do with the whole situation. So I listened, offered a prayer for hope, help and strength for him, and was suggesting that he check out some support services for seniors and their families when the call dropped somehow. I lifted my sweaty cheek from the phone and checked, but there was no number recorded, so I couldn't even call him back.
I have no idea where John found my number -- maybe it was a misdial? -- but as I finished my work, I found myself thinking about the last time I encountered a stranger while handling compost eight years ago. And I said a few extra prayers that John will find the support and help he needs, and a way through the pain and challenges he's facing.
My prayer life during this pandemic has been different, but good. The only thing I am really missing (besides the people with whom I usually share my faith) is the almost monthly gathering of people for ecumenical meditative prayer with scripture, silence, and the songs of Taizé. But I've found a way around it, sort of.
We can't all gather together to sing and pray in these days of pandemic, but I've figured out how to broadcast prayer from my own home via Facebook. I was a bit worried about infringing on music copyrights, so I contacted the Brothers of the Taizé Community, and they don't mind if I use recordings of their music interspersed with readings and prayers during the pandemic. In fact, Brother Jean-Marc wrote, "We are glad to hear about the ecumenical prayer that you hold, and we would certainly encourage you to keep going even if you can only meet online at present."
So I have set up a schedule of nine Sunday evening prayers throughout 2021, and I invite you to join me online via the Taizé Prayer in Edmonton and Area facebook page, which you can find by clicking here. It's not like singing and praying together in one place, but it's still a good opportunity to lift the needs of our world to God. Our first prayer coincides with the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, and incorporates prayers that will be used in other local prayer services as well as prayers from the Taizé Community.
It almost goes without saying that unity (my word of the year!) is what our world really needs right now, so feel free to invite others to join us, as united hearts are the only thing that can change our human trajectory...
Lately, in these pandemic times, I have been finding it hard to find God's presence in the struggles we face. We are in the middle of what I would call a "wake-up call," yet many of us refuse to wake up. The huge push to "get back to normal" is causing a second wave of the virus in many parts of the world, and here in North America, the insistence on personal freedom over the common good means that many people are ignoring the precautions (like simply wearing a mask) that can make a difference for so many others.
If we can't work together on reducing the effects of this virus, how will we work together to handle other serious challenges like climate change and leveling the playing field for those struggling on our planet, who seem to bear the brunt of global catastrophes?
Even as I wring my hands over our world's difficulties, I know who is in charge. The force in the universe that brought everything to be, the force that sustains all things right down to the breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart, is still here, still with us, still waiting for us to do the right things. So we continue, in hope, and I find my comfort in singing.
Here's another of my favourite Taizé chants, sung in Portuguese. Today I raise it for the people of Brazil, India, Russia and the US who are experiencing the highest numbers of covid cases these days. I sing it for all those who pretend that there is no virus, or that it will have no impact on their lives. I have posted the English lyrics below, if you would prefer to sing them. Or join me in singing the Portuguese:
I'm finding it challenging to remember these Simple Moodlings these days. The weather has turned for the better since my last Taizé Tuesday post, so I'm outside more than indoors, and only at my computer for my daily prayer with the Brothers each afternoon or evening.
Their lovely evening prayer can be found livestreamed on the Taizé Facebook page at 12:30 pm MST, or later in the day at https://www.facebook.com/watch/taize/. This afternoon we sang this beautiful chant, which has become one of my favourites:
Keep me, O God,
for I trust in you.
You show me the path of life.
With you there is fullness of joy.
In this time of the coronavirus, it's a wonderful psalm prayer. No matter what happens, God is with us, showing us the way home. Plus I'm a sucker for images of Taize as I knew it, and the gorgeous oboe and flute descants. Enjoy!
Today's reflection is brought to you by Philippians 2:6-11.
Jesus,
God,
you show us what true humility is.
You
of all people,
could have been a big shot,
but you chose to live
an ordinary life
with extraordinary love for all.
You emptied yourself
of all ego
and showed us
how to be servants
of love,
even dying the worst death imaginable
in solidarity
with those who hunger
for truth and justice
but are denied.
God raised you
after you showed us
that only by walking through
valleys of death
do we truly learn to live.
You
are above all
and your name
bows us low
no matter where we are.
Help us to live through
our valleys of death
and to reach out
to those who struggle
as best we are able.
We confess that you
are our tender God
and our glorious brother.
Be with us
this Holy Week
and in the weeks and months ahead.
Show us,
in the fullness of time,
that our actions are
enough.
+Amen.
* * * * * * *
It's strange to have Palm Sunday without the usual ritual, and togetherness. But this year, it's what a lot of us are called to do. Though I wish there was some work I could undertake to help the world cope with this coronavirus, as I'm not in healthcare or essential services fields, I have to recognize that my main work is to stay home, pray, and check in with family and friends while social distancing.
So this morning, I cut some Canadian palm branches (from the juniper evergreens under my bedroom window) and attended Palm Sunday mass via FaceBook. Then I put pieces of my virtually blessed juniper all around the house, as I have done every other year with palms imported from the southern U.S. When that was done, Lee and I walked a block to our elderly neighbour, Lidia, and fastened a small Canadian palm branch to her front steps to mark Holy Week, wishing her a happy Palm Sunday through her screen door and blowing kisses.
It's the best we can do, and it is enough.
Remember that whatever you do these days to show kindness to others -- whether a small gesture of solidarity, a donation to an organization that helps those struggling at this time, a smile, a prayer, or simply staying put to prevent this virus from spreading more quickly -- is enough.
Christ is walking with us through our lonesome valley.
I had great intentions at the beginning of this Lent to double my meditation time. For the past year or so, I've been doing my best to spend 20 minutes every morning in contemplative prayer. For me, that means sitting, usually with dog close by and a cup of tea, lifting people in my life up to God one by one, and then just resting in God's presence. Of course, my monkey mind runs all over the place, but the point of contemplation is to come to an awareness of my thoughts, and turn them back to God.
Sometimes I sit for twenty minutes and never get back to God more than once or twice! But God knows I'm trying -- at least I've set aside the time.
My hope for this Lent, which began three weeks ago, was to add a 20-minute evening meditation. Which didn't happen -- until this week. Since Monday, I've been lighting a candle and sitting at about 9 pm, and my monkey mind seems to be a little less frenetic later in the day.
Of course, the big motivation for finally meeting my Lenten resolution is our current pandemic, and all the anxiety that the world seems to be feeling right now, come home in my own psyche. If we've ever needed contemplation and calm, now is the time. So I'm suddenly making more time to pray.
And then the Taizé Community ups the ante! This week, the Community closed its doors and sent all pilgrims and volunteers home (and maybe some brothers, too). But always concerned about hospitality, it has invited us all into its evening prayer through online streaming via Facebook. 8:30 pm prayer in France occurs at 1:30 pm here (MST). The first two days, I was doing other things at 1:30, but the prayer was recorded and can be viewed as soon as it concludes.
Still, I love the idea that there are many of us around the world who are able to join with the men in that little room on a hill in the Burgundy region of France. 3.4 thousand of us joined today's evening prayer from all over the globe, and personally, I delighted in singing the alto (for the chants I knew) with the brothers, who supply the melody, tenor and bass lines. It's international ecumenical prayer without any of us having to burn fossil fuels to participate.
Knowing that I am praying with people from Adelaide, Belfast, Istanbul, Jakarta, Modena, Posnan, Seoul, Turku -- the list goes on -- somehow makes the prayer feel deeper, all our voices calling together to God from across the planet.
It feels right. And I don't doubt that God is listening.
If you would like to join us tomorrow at 1:30, or later tonight for a replay, here's a link to the Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/taize/.
My post-election hangover isn't because of alcohol -- it's from concern about what our future premier might do to social services, education, LGBTQ2S+ rights, and our already struggling environment. His arrival at his election speech in his big blue Dodge Ram pickup truck was a symbolic gesture, I know, but it only demonstrates how tone-deaf he is to the serious issues of climate change and poverty. His emphasis on the economy might not leave a lot of room for the needs of marginalized community members and the environment, so the best antidote is to be vigilant and active in standing up for and with them.
If you're feeling the kind of concern that I am, prayer is always a helpful tool to keep us grounded. And this Easter weekend, there are plenty of opportunities. As usual for this time of year, I'll just highlight my two favourites on Good Friday.
The Outdoor Way of the Cross begins at 10 am at Immigration Hall (10534 100 St), and is a beautiful reflection on many of the most important issues humanity faces. It lasts approximately two hours, and takes participants on a 2 km route through the inner city before ending at Hope Mission for lunch.
And Friday evening at 7 pm in the beautiful Providence Renewal Centre main chapel (3005 119 St) is Ecumenical Prayer Around the Cross, with scripture, silence and song from the Taizé community. Why not bring your friends and neighbours of different denominations to pray with us for peace, unity and reconciliation, the very things that Jesus came to share with us? All are welcome at both events, and they offer just the right balance to all the politics of the past weeks, in my humble opinion. Hope to see you there.
It's been a crazy busy week, so I've decided to start my Laudato Si Sunday reflections next week, and post the schedule for this year's Ecumenical Prayer evenings that will be held in different churches. If you are in the Edmonton Area, don't hesitate to join us at any of the prayer evenings noted below. Each evening is a wonderful opportunity to listen to scripture, sit together in silence, and join our voices in song to celebrate all the things Christians hold in common. All are welcome!
After hearing today's reading from St. Paul's letter to the Thessalonians, I am smiling and shaking my head at God's wisdom -- and timing. Paul writes: But you, beloved, are not in darkness... you are all children of the light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness." (1 Thessalonians 5:4a, 5) And there is a part further on in the reading (verse 11) that also fits my experience today: "Therefore, encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing."
Back story: Since my last visit to Taizé in October of last year, I have had a dream of sharing a peace prayer with communities of different faiths in our city. The Brothers of Taizé start each week with a simple Sunday evening prayer for peace, a half hour of silence that ends with a chant asking, "Grant us your peace, O Lord..." For the past year, I have been trying to connect with people of different faiths who would be open to such a prayer.
Today, through a series of fortunate events, my friend Julien and I spent a few hours meeting and praying with people of an interfaith community that is very excited about the possibility of peace prayer together. The Sri Sathya Sai Baba Centre was celebrating the birthday of their founder this afternoon, and the community offered us wonderful hospitality by means of a delicious afternoon snack, a meaningful performance about caring for creation offered by their young adults' group, heartfelt prayer in call and response chants in Hindi, Sanskrit and English, a wonderful vegetarian supper (complete with birthday cake), and lots of excellent conversation. (Stay tuned to these moodlings for information about an upcoming interfaith Peace Prayer...)
But what struck me most about our visit was the beautiful prayer just before supper, at which men and women of the community waved lamps in large circles and held the light out to all in the room, waving the light toward us as a sign that we are all filled with God's light.
It underlined for me the understanding that the names we give to God and the forms we imagine that God may take are not what is important in this life or in our prayer. What matters is that we understand that God lives and loves in every being on this planet, and that we are all children of the light no matter how we believe. In this regard, we have more in common than we can possibly understand.
O God of light,
thank you
for showing us your light,
for filling us with your light,
and for lighting our way
toward the unity and peace
you intend for all of creation.
Bless us
and remain with us
as we seek you
and find you
in each other's light.
Help us
to care for your beautiful creation
by living simply
and by recognizing your light
in all that you have made.
Show us
how to encourage one another
and build each other up
so that we may work together
until all enjoy
the peace and unity
you intend for our world.
This Sunday's readings remind us of the importance of humility and how the beauty, goodness and truth in our lives are not something we claim in order to hold ourselves above others, but are simply gifts that come from God. Self-importance gets us nowhere -- it's genuine humility that is truly appealing. Just think of the humblest person you know, and the feelings he or she elicits when you think of that person.
I think this is why today's Psalm (131) appeals so much to me. It reminds me to be humble, not to occupy myself with things that are beyond what God wants for me. That, and it brings to mind the music of John Michael Talbot, in particular his Come to the Quiet album, which I wore out during my first year of teaching. It's all about the greatness of God, and God's gifts of mercy, peace and justice. So this morning I was delighted to find that someone managed to put it up on YouTube for our listening enjoyment. My very favourite of JMT's sung prayers (Psalm 62) is at the 39 minute mark on the video (sound file, really) below, but the whole album is better than ever, probably because I've lived a lot in the years since I last heard it. Listening to its gentle melodies is like coming home.
Here are John Michael Talbot's lyrics to his sung version of Psalm 131, the last one in the video below. Have a lovely Sunday, and enjoy.
Lord, my heart is not proud nor are my eyes fixed on things beyond me. In the quiet I have stilled my soul like a child at rest on its mother's knee. I have stilled my soul within me. O Israel, come and hope in your Lord do not set your eyes on things far beyond you. Just come to the quiet. Come and still your soul like a child at rest on his daddy's knee. Come and still your soul completely.
My Sunday reflection is a day late this week because there's a lot to carry right now. One of our daughters has been suffering due to low iron levels and related health issues, our youngest is finding life challenging in other ways, and last week, my in-laws, who live 500 km (300 miles) away, went through a health crisis of their own, leaving us feeling a bit helpless to come up with assistance for them in a hurry. Thank goodness neighbours and friends stepped in to help out for the time it took my husband's brothers to drive to be with them.
This weekend, Lee and I made the five-and-a-half-hour journey to help out with cooking and other things that needed attention, leaving our kids to fend for themselves (fortunately, they're of an age to manage life without us for the most part). I was on call to help Lee's mom through Saturday night/Sunday morning, and felt like a bit of zombie when we arrived home last night with just enough time for me to pull together a few things for last night's ecumenical prayer, have supper, and drive to the church that was hosting the prayer.
I was feeling overwhelmed, exhausted and somewhat grumpy when I arrived. Some kind of Mother's Day this was turning out to be, I was thinking. But the community that gathered for the prayer and the music we sang together put everything into perspective once again, especially the Taizé chant below:
Retourne, mon âme à ton repos,
car le Seigneur ta fait du bien.
Il a gardé mon âme de la mort.
Il essuira pour toujours les larmes de nos yeux.
Return, my soul, to your rest,
for the Lord has been good to you.
God rescued my soul from death.
God will wipe away every tear from our eyes.
It was a perfect reminder that we are all loved and cared for even when we're feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or grumpy. Hands much gentler than our own will wipe away our tears and hold us to God's heart, and serenity will return. It always does when we turn our struggles over to the Source of everything.
It's been a busier Holy Week than I expected, so I may be too late with sharing this moodling of invitation to my readers to join in our family's more recent Good Friday tradition. We like to attend and participate in ecumenical Good Friday commemorations in our city because Good Friday is one thing all Christians hold in common (along with many other things).
If you are looking for a less denominational way to mark the day we remember Christ's self-giving, I'd like to invite you to two special events tomorrow:
The Outdoor Way of the Cross begins at 10 a.m. at Immigration Hall (100 St and 105A Ave). It's an opportunity for Christians of all denominations (and people of any faith who want to join them) to walk with our inner city brothers and sisters, to reflect on social justice issues, and to sing and pray. It's a very meaningful reflection on Christ's presence in our world today. I just hope the forecasted snow doesn't get in the way!
And the second event is the annual Ecumenical Prayer Around the Cross, held at 7 p.m. at Providence Renewal Centre (address on the banner). It features silence, scripture, and the songs of Taizé. The music is gorgeous and easy to learn, a piece of Luke's gospel will be read in as many languages as we can muster, and the prayer is always from the heart of the gathered community. So if you're looking for some gentle meditative and musical prayer, you're most welcome. Bring a friend, and come sing and pray with us.
Here's a little taste of what we will be praying with tomorrow evening... the last words of Jesus:
In Latin: In manus tuas, Pater, commendo spiritum meum.
In English: Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit.
I don't know about you, but I've never really given a lot of thought to the original Lent, the forty days when the holiest of holy men walked into a desert to spend time with God. It seems to be what was needed before Christ embraced his mission to teach us all about how love and the suffering that comes with it bring us to resurrection and deeper love.
In Jesus' day, going out to the desert was a practice mostly undertaken by the Essenes, a sect in Roman-occupied Palestine who embraced simplicity, prayer and fasting as a way of life. John the Baptist probably "trained" in that tradition, and it's clear that the average Jane and Joe of his time looked at the desert-dwellers as either really holy or really crazy people. You can tell from Jesus' comments about John (Matthew 11:18). Going into the desert wasn't something taken lightly -- a certain reputation came with it.
What exactly does one do in a desert for forty days? No one really knows what Jesus did with his forty-day "time away from it all retreat." I can't begin to imagine fasting or praying for that long, so I guess that's why this video with Matt Maher's song, 40 Days, caught my attention. Kudos to the video creators!
To be honest, I didn't really like it when I first saw it a few weeks ago, but after listening to the gospel reading this morning, I had to find it and watch it again and rehear the lyrics... and now something in me has changed.
The images, while simplistic, touch something fundamental about the meaning of Lent. It is a time apart from the ordinary, an opportunity for silence, solitude and simplicity. The image that stays with me the most is Christ on his belly in the dust, watching a flower grow, probably in deep conversation with the One who made the flower.
