” When confronted with a dropped plate, what is your proclivity? Keep it? Repair it? Relegate it to the dump? Sometimes a single I’m sorry is all it takes; sometimes a person can say I’m sorry a thousand times and that glue will never dry……This metaphor culminates,obviously, in relationship, which is,after all, a marvel of construction, built over time and out of fragments of shared experience.”~Stephanie Kallos, Broken for You

I have just finished reading a wonderful book entitled  Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos. It is one of those books whose story haunts you, travels with you throughout your day, living in some closet of your mind, a door which opens and closes at will drawing you back  into the story even when you have important things to do….like pay attention in meetings or answer email. I recommend it to those who like to be gripped and challenged by a powerful tale.

What probably held me captive is that the story centers around a concept, a way of seeing the world, that so resonates with my own. It is actually a Jewish concept found, I believe, in the Talmud called Tikun Olam. I believe I wrote about this understanding of the world in this space a couple of years ago. Tikun Olam has its home in the story that when God created the world, the container to hold all the beauty that was created was too large and so the container broke apart sending the beauty and all that was created into splintered pieces that continue to fly around, pieces that contain and elude our lives. The story goes that God then assigned humans the work of repairing the world…….bringing the broken pieces into some form that will re-establish that beauty, that will, in truth, heal all the world.

This concept is, for me, one of the most compelling ideas. I believe it is also what draws me to collage art, mosaics and anything that brings together smaller pieces to create a greater whole. In fact, I am blessed to see this happen every week in so many ways….as the gifts of people are offered in worship, as ideas are shared and the original spark is fanned into a roaring fire by other’s additions, as ingredients combine to make a meal. Tiny pieces offered to be held together by some invisible force.

Every morning I awake to read the newspaper filled with the broken pieces of beauty and terror that fly around in the air we all breathe. Some of those broken pieces have been swirling for years. Painful childhood wounds. Rivers streaming with polluting debris. Systems of institutions aimed, not at the good of all, but rife with the greed and power of a few. Life stories that continue to swim in negative, hopeless narratives. Cells that split and create, not greater life, but stronger disease. So many broken pieces.

And so on this day which has never been before and will not come again, we are invited to pick up the pieces, take a giant glue stick and begin to make a stab at mending the world. How to do it? Kindness? Activism? Words of hope? Being fully present to another? A cup of water extended to a thirsting soul? A song sung? A joke told? Prayer?

Yes, this and so much more. Each of us an artist who takes the small and broken pieces and mends, gently mends, trying to heal the world.