The world is alive with your goodness, O God,
it grows green from the ground
and ripens into the roundness of fruit.
Its taste and its touch
enliven my body and stir my soul.
Generously given
profusely displayed
your graces of goodness pour forth from the earth.
As I have received
so free me to give.
As I have been granted
so may I give.
~J. Phillip Newell

One of the local television news programs has a nightly segment called “Good Question”. People can write in and ask a question they have pondered and a reporter will do his level best to research and find an answer to that question. The content varies from the profound to the ridiculous but never fails to be interesting. Since I am a lover of questions in general, I always am intrigued to hear what queries people have roaming around in their brains.

Yesterday I was cleaning out my book bag and found some notes I had taken recently while listening to a speaker. Down in the lower lefthand corner of a scrap of paper, I had written a question the speaker had posed: “What dialogue is imperative for the good of the world?” Good question!

I remember sitting up straighter in my seat when this question was stated. I say stated because the speaker’s point was not to answer the question but to explain that in the community in which he lived this was a question that bound them together. Their communal conversational life was grounded in exploring what dialogues they were commanded to have for the good of the world. When I found the piece of paper and was re-introduced to the question, my mind started spinning.

What dialogue IS imperative for the good of the world? What do you imagine these conversations might contain? Have you had any conversations lately that led to the good of the world?

Last night I led a group of people through a book study where ‘living with reverence’ was a central theme. It seems to me that so much of what might bring us and conversely the world to a greater good is the practice of living reverently. What if our community dialogue led us to honor the Holy within ourselves and then turn that mirror toward each person we meet? Would the on-going practice of such dialogue lead to the good of the world? I believe it would. Would we, through the gift of this dialogue, find ourselves more aware of the Spirit within us and within all Creation?

This might lead us to have some very long and compassionate conversations about the inequity of resources in our communities, nation and the world. Everyday I make my drive around our city streets and see those who make their homes on those same streets. There are many contributing factors to why this is so and the reasons are complex. But as a person of privilege and faith, it is something that should and does nag at me. What kind of dialogue might happen that would bring an answer that moves these people and all of us to a common good?

There are so many dialogues that are imperative for the good of the world. In some ways it is overwhelming to know where to begin. But today is as good a day as any. In our workplaces and homes, in our schools and coffee shops, conversations will happen that have the potential to bring good into the world. I believe if we set our intention to bring this good into the world in all the conversations we have this day, it will make a difference. These will most likely not be the ‘big’ dialogues that the speaker was referring to but will be common conversations about common things. However, if we practice these dialogues well, it will prepare us for bringing our spirit and being in the presence of the Spirit, when the even bigger conversations present themselves.

All the way to heaven IS heaven.
~Catherine of Siena

At a workshop over the weekend, I was reminded of this statement by a 14th century nun who is one of the patron saints of Italy, sharing this stage with St. Francis of Assisi. It is one of those bold statements, short and to the point, that can catch you off guard and find you scratching your head to understand its depths. ‘All the way to heaven IS heaven.’ Seven words that can allow room for a person, if they choose, to ruminate for hours and in the end define a personal theology.

In the workshop I attended, we were handed small slips of paper with quotes. Our job was to basically repeat the quote and then, uninterrupted, bring that quote to life by speaking it as if the words were our own. Some might say, we were to preach a sermon on the words using the quote as the sacred text for our inspiration. I did not receive this quote but another person around my table did. Yet, it is the one that stuck with me, the one that burrowed itself under my skin.

Perhaps this has happened through an alignment of several things. One is that I am reading Marcus Borg’s latest book Speaking Christian in which he does a wonderful job of explaining the many ways we have interpreted and misinterpreted the original meanings of many of the words used in the Bible. Heaven or eternal life being just two. And the second is that we are coming up on this Sunday’s celebration of All Saints Day. The word ‘heaven’ plays a big role in both.

Those who sat around my table on Saturday were not rule followers so, while we were instructed not to have conversation about our quote, we did anyway. Mostly we asked questions. What do you think when you speak of heaven? What do you believe about it? What did Catherine mean? Do you believe her words to be true?

In an attempt to answer our own questions, I began to think of the times when I had experienced a little slice of what could only be described as heaven, a time of finding a home with the Holy. It had come in the simple acts of a shared meal or the breathtaking view of a sunrise over a shimmering body of water. It had come as I sat at the bedside of an older one dying or cradled a new born in my arms. It had come in through the gasps of air from deep, belly laughs and the tearful gasps of sorrowful sobs. All moments of heavenly experience. All moments of finding myself at home with the One who breathed me into being.

Perhaps I love Catherine’s statement because she does does not try to explain what or where this heaven is. She instead invites us to look for the moments of heaven that brush up against us or get smack in our face every day. It seems to me that when we do this we are less likely to worry about how to ‘get into’ heaven and more likely to reach out and touch it. Choosing this path might ultimately make for a more heaven-filled life.

This Sunday we will name those who have gone to experience what it means to be at home with the Holy One in a way that is pure mystery to most of us. It is only something that can be known on the far side of the veil. It is my prayer that we will say their beloved names with confidence that they are indeed held by this One who brought them to living and now holds them in mystery. I hope we will also remember fondly all the ways in which ‘all the way to heaven WAS heaven’ for them. Perhaps in our remembering we will remind ourselves to be awake to the heaven that comes our way this day and every day.