"I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
Who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
Who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
Who do what has to be done again and again."
         ~ Marge Percy, To Be of Use

Do you know people like the ones Marge Percy describes? I certainly do. Our world is full of them. They don’t often get the recognition they deserve….many times they actually shy away from that recognition. Our church is full of them. There are people who spend countless hours preparing, cleaning up, studying, praying, serving, washing hands that are hurt, feeding stomachs that are hungry….pulling like water buffalo day after day, week after week.

It takes much patience to do the work of change these days. Massive patience. I see it all around me…..in schools, in churches, in communities, in our country, in the world. As humans we would mostly like it if things stayed predictable, easy, the ‘way they’ve always been’. But the truth is the world is always changing, the ways we are called to live and be with one another are always growing and taking on a new shape. Our response to this movement can be one of openness and possibility or gritting our teeth and digging in our heels.  Both carry with them a degree of pain. But only one will create forward motion, only one will bring about growth.

As I read the scriptures, the evolving story of God in the world is one of forward motion. We are moving toward something. Throughout the Hebrew scriptures the people are often on a journey, a pilgrimage, in which each step brings about a greater understanding of how the Holy is revealed. As Jesus walked from town to town healing and bringing hope to those he met, he was followed by people who wanted to become a part of the Way. The Way he offered was a way of change in a world that reeked of oppression and injustice. And so he walked, patiently straining to move things forward.

Today I give thanks for all the saints who have labored, who have given their lives to do what needed to be done. Today I give thanks for all the saints who are laboring, who continue to give their lives to what needs to be done…..again and again and again.

"I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?  Isaiah 43:19

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all………."
     ~Emily Dickinson

Over the last few weeks I have had many conversations about hope. Our faith community is entering a time of reflection and contemplation through our worship on the the theme "Harvest of Hope." Hope. As we have talked we have tried to differentiate between ‘hope’ and ‘wish’ or ‘dream’. Hope seems somehow deeper, more long lasting. I can wish for a new car but hope doesn’t seem to fit that kind of desire. Dreams are important and telling, whether awake or asleep, but hope is still something deeper than that.

One person described a particularly difficult time in his life when hope seemed nearly impossible. But through prayer and contemplation, he became acutely aware of the deep kindness that lives at the heart of the universe. That kindness became the well from which hope nourished his despairing soul. Not wishes, but hope.

As we come upon the anniversary of 9/11 tomorrow, I am reminded of the visible hope that I experienced the days following that very dark time for our country, for our world. Our house rests in the flight pattern for the airport so we are accustomed to the sounds of planes going overhead with regularity. Spending time outside in the beautiful fall weather seemed healing in those days. My memory may be colored but it seemed to me the sun shone particularly bright those days following the tragedy.though people’s hearts were heavy, tears welled in our eyes, the sun warmed our pain.

But it wasn’t even the sun shining that connected me with the deep sense of hope. It was the geese. You see, during those days our neighborhood was silent…no sounds of planes landing or taking off. Just the silence of the open, crystal blue sky. And then the geese would fly over head, honking, rising from the streams and fields that dot our landscape. They would rise majestically into the air headed south, doing what they instinctively knew how to do. I remember thinking, "They don’t know." They don’t know what’s happened. They don’t know our sadness. They don’t know they are supposed to be grounded, not flying.

But in later days I rethought that statement. They do know. They know that the sun will rise and set and the seasons will change. They know that there will be great joy and great tragedy and that time and life will continue. They know that hope is ‘a thing with wings that perches in the soul’…..and never stops at all.

"Water flows from high in the mountains. Water runs deep in the Earth. Miraculously water comes to us, and sustains all life." Thich Nhat Hanh

These days I am looking for what sustains. There are so many words flying around in the airwaves, so much rhetoric of hate and mean spiritedness, that I am looking underneath rocks and couch cushions for what it is that can sustain my spirit, my hope. I have been in the presence of those who have been tossed about by the circumstances of the world in ways that has drowned their internal self-respect. I listen to the nightly news and hear words that cut to the depths of our collective hearts. What to do? What to do?

A friend who has one of the kindest hearts I know said that last week he simply needed to go to the river. To go to the river and sit and watch its gentle power as it makes its way to the ocean."All rivers whether they flow east or west, have arisen from the sea and return to the sea." said Meister Eckhart, the medieval mystic. The river flows, always in connection to where it came from and where it will return. For me, there is such kindness and hope in that image. The river flowing out of the sea and back again reminds me of all the ways I am connected to the greater world and it is an important thing to remember when human words are being carefully crafted to tear us apart and make us believe otherwise.

Each day I have the blessing of crossing the Mississippi River at least 2 or 3 times. The concrete and steel that holds me above this mighty body of water can make me feel separate from its waters.But in truth, I am not.  Over the next days I, too, want to go to the river even if it is by way of a bridge. I want to remember the deep and spiritual ways I am connected to all that is. I want to hold on tight to that wisdom and not let the voices that screech pull me in other directions. I want to be reminded what really sustains and drink deeply from it.

For all kinds of reasons I found myself sitting in one of our local neighborhood coffee shops this morning. I sat having my morning cup watching the literal stream of people coming in to what is only one of the many shops that now dot our little area of the Twin Cities. The thought crossed my mind:"How did we live without these gathering places?" Meetings were happening all around me. People read the morning paper, worked on their computers, couples had conversations and others simply sat staring into the middle distance waiting for the caffeine to kick in. It was a diverse group in age….some in white collar work clothes,others dressed for construction, others in uniforms, kids in school clothes, still others, perhaps retired or on their day off, the casual clothes of weekends. It was fascinating to watch the employees greet people who must be regulars, knowing their ‘usual’, and sending each customer off with a hearty "enjoy the rest of your day."

While other countries have certainly had the coffee house establishment as gathering place for a long time, it is a fairly new arrival in our country.Instead we have had the small town diner or the local pub that has provided the gathering spot for people, that place where news is shared, where politics are discussed, where no one minds if you linger over a cup of coffee for hours. In fact it is actually expected, lingering is required.

As humans we have a great need to gather. As social beings we need those places where we can look around and see a familiar face, pull up a chair and be with our fellow human beings. In times past the local town square served that purpose. As suburbs grew, the existence of a downtown began to disappear. So the evolution that answers our need to gather seems to be the coffee house.In this spirit I believe that what is happening at these establishments is so much more than selling coffee. The local coffee shop is providing the circle in which we can gather, claiming our social nature and building an energy that infuses the community.

So the next time you stop by to get your morning fix, take time to think that what you are doing is perhaps so much more than getting a cup of coffee. Look around at your fellow human beings, your fellow travelers on this swirling, big ball of water and earth. We are in this together and we need a place to gather to affirm that fact….spoken or unspoken, realized or unrealized, it is true.

"We were born to unite with our fellow men, and to join in community with the human race." Cicero

"For the first showings of the morning light
and the emerging outline of the day
thanks be to you, O God.
For earth’s colours drawn forth by the sun
its brilliance piercing clouds of darkness
and shimmering through leaves and flowing waters
thanks be to you.
Show to me this day
amidst life’s dark streaks of wrong and suffering
the light that endures in every person.
Dispel the confusions that cling close to my soul
that I may see with eyes washed by your grace
that I may see myself and all people
with eyes cleansed by the freshness of the new day’s light."
                   ~J. Philip Newell

My mother’s words echo sometimes in the back of my mind. "If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all." When the words are so ready to trip off my tongue…… a snide comment, a raw jab, a pious thought, a vicious insult, sometimes, sometimes, her voice stops me from speaking. And I am thankful for that voice that acts as my conscience and my silencer.

It is easy to add to the world’s "dark streaks of wrong and suffering" with words that hurt. Words often spoken in passion for a cause or words aimed to show the world where we stand on a particular topic can add to the mix of already present negative sentiment that abounds. Speaking with malice or self-righteousness only adds to a swirling dark cesspool that rarely, if ever, has any commitment to the common good. Words flung at another to degrade, demean or demoralize fail to recognize the "light that endures in every person." Every person. Not just those who believe the way I do, act as I do, live as I do.

I am saying this words, writing these words, for myself as much as for any reader. In the days past, in the present days, and in those to come, words are going to fly fast and furious as our country heads toward a national election. Truths and untruths will walk side by side, hand in hand. It will become increasingly more difficult to see what the original inspiration of those vying for office ever was.It will become increasingly more difficult to see their enduring light.

And so in the midst of it all, may our confusions be dispelled, may our eyes be washed with grace, and may we hold gently to the enduring light that rests within as we seek after the good for all the people. All the people.

"I see trees of green…….. red roses too
I see em bloom….. for me and for you
And I think to myself…. what a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue….. clouds of white
Bright blessed days….dark sacred nights
And I think to myself …..what a wonderful world.
The colors of a rainbow…..so pretty ..in the sky
Are also on the faces…..of people ..going by
I see friends shaking hands…..sayin’.. how do you do
They’re really sayin’……i love you.
I hear babies cry…… I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more…..than I’ll never know
And I think to myself …..what a wonderful world."
                  ~Louis Armstrong

Labor Day is over. The State Fair has closed its’ gates. Today is the first day of school for most Minnesota students. I always think of this great Louis Armstrong on the first day of school. Or at least I have since both our sons had the great privilege of being in the second grade classroom of Mr. Messici. He began every year with playing this song for the students. Can you imagine the fresh faces of those second graders, teeth missing, sitting in a circle on the carpet, some nervous, some sleepy, as they listened to the scratchy, throaty voice of Louis Armstrong? They were expecting perhaps spelling words and numbers to add and subtract. They were expecting to have to recall all they had learned in First Grade and to spill it onto the floor. But Louis Armstrong? Instead of stickers or other rewards to inspire children to do their work,  Mr. Messici handed out Messici Moolah, paper money he had printed with
his picture replacing the face of famous presidents. He also connected
each child in the classroom with a senior citizen in our community and
helped them forge a relationship with this person over the school year Seniors and children sang, ate, learned and played together.
It was a wonderful year in the lives of seven and eights year
olds…….living as a part of a wonderful world.

Our younger son ran into Mr. Messici last week. The younger one now towers over the teacher. It was a good reunion with both, I’m sure, mentally marking the aging process in their own ways.The Messici Moolah our sons earned has been invested in their learning for more than a decade. The interest has grown as they have matured into fine young men on their own paths. The investment has paid off.

As school begins today, I pray that each child will enter an environment where they learn all they need to succeed in the world…..math, reading, science, history, geography. But more than those academics, I pray that they will learn that it is, indeed, a wonderful world. Many children have already seen much evidence to the contrary. For all children, but especially for those who need a kinder, gentler touch on their lives, I pray that they can walk into a classroom where the teacher knows the investment they are making. Someday they, too, may meet their former student on the street and will see the fruits of their labor and their love.