A few months ago we started ending our chapel service by singing the simple little refrain many people learned at church camp or in their Sunday school and youth group experiences. The tune is easy and the lyrics consist of one word: “Alleluia”. It can be sung as a simple tune or, if you have the right group of people in the room, it can be layered with much harmony. I encouraged people to not only harmonize but to carry that word into their week, to look for people or situations or sights they see that warrant an ‘alleluia’. It was in many ways a spur of the moment thing to say but in truth I really meant it.

Alleluia, an unapologetically churchy word, simply means to give praise or honor to something for the presence of the holy within it. It is a word that is littered throughout the scriptures and is the stuff of countless compositions of music over the centuries. It is not, however, a word that trips off the tongue of many 21st century human beings. My goal was to remedy this.

So in my encouragement I hoped to invite people to be aware and awake to the beautiful, the amazing, the precious moments that come our way every day. Experiences in which the Divine shows up to remind us that we are walking in a gift of a world. Even in the other definition of ‘alleluia’ which is an exclamation of thankfulness for something that happens that is surprising or ironic, the Sacred can also be found lurking around the edges. Situations like coming back to your car with the full knowledge that you have an expired meter and finding (alleluia!) that you do not have a ticket.

Putting this call for alleluias everywhere also primed that pump for my own experience. I found myself muttering under my breath this four syllable, quite ancient word. And I have found that one alleluia leads to another. It is like an amazing addiction to noticing and proclaiming.

I have found that I am now having alleluia moments more and more. I can’t stop myself. Last week when the full moon rose high in the sky with an even larger glowing aura surrounding it? Alleluia! Watching a father walk his beautiful daughter down the aisle this past weekend. Alleluia! The baby, new to the world, that I saw in the elevator leaving a hospital visit, her black hair so full it looked like a wig. Alleluia. The unfolding corn fields lining the highway offering their food to the world. Alleluia.

Over the weekend I was blessed to lead worship for a group of writers gathered for retreat. The community they have formed over the years, one of faith and the love of words and story, inspired me. Alleluia. And the retreat center where they met, so lovingly cared for and attentive to hospitality, was a sanctuary of nature and prayer. Alleluia.

But what may have caused the largest and loudest recent alleluia of all was the hibiscus bush that welcomed worshipers into the center’s chapel. Its brilliant red petals and yellow centers unfolded to the size of dinner plates. How could something so beautiful, so fragile and fleeting survive? Its existence thrilled me once again with this world, this nest home, I am privileged to rest in, a home held my a Mystery I do not understand but regularly glimpse.

And for that I am filled to overflowing with gratitude…….and alleluias.

“It’s morning, and again I am that lucky person who is in it.
And again it is spring,
and there are the apple trees,
and the hummingbird in its branches.
On the green wheel of his wings
he hurries from blossom to blossom,
which is his work, that he might live.

He is a gatherer of the fine honey of promise,
and truly I go in envy
of the ruby fire at his throat,
and his accurate, quick tongue,
and his single-mindedness.

Meanwhile the knives of ambition are stirring
down there in the darkness behind my eyes,
and I should go inside now to my desk and my pages.
But still I stand under the trees, happy and desolate,
wanting for myself such a satisfying coat
and brilliant work.”
~Mary Oliver

It is not spring but I did have the pure blessing this morning to sit and observe hummingbirds. I have spent parts of the last couple days at a beautiful retreat center not far from where I live. Oddly enough I had never been to this place before and I was astounded by its beauty and serenity.

Sitting in the dining room you are surrounded by windows on three sides. Outside the windows birdfeeders hang along all the eaves of the roof. At one bluejays and grackles coexisted in that way that always amazes me. Why can’t humans who are as different as these two winged ones do the same? At another feeder filled with peanuts a downy woodpecker bobbed his head as he ingested his morning snack. A goldfinch here. A house finch there. Air born beings all around.

But it was the hummingbirds that had my attention. As I sat writing I was distracted over and over by their pursuit of sweetness. Their fragile little wings, beating at incredible speeds, had my eyes gyrating with their rhythm. How is it that I am privileged to coexist on this blessed earth with something so tiny, so beautiful? It seemed grace embodied.

As I watched I remembered that, of course, the poet Mary Oliver had sat as I was now sitting, held captive by the awe of these tiny creatures. Searching for her words I was once again filled to overflowing with humility by her ability to capture the wonder and mystery of this precious life. “It’s morning again, and I am the lucky person who is in it.”

Indeed, lucky. Blessed. Awe-struck. All of this and more. To be alive on such a day, filled with such brilliant green and vivid blue seems more than anyone should be allowed. Surrounded by all those with fluttering wings. And especially the ones with the green body and the ruby throat who know how to drink of the sweetness of life with such gusto.

May they continue to teach me their ways until I, too, am lifted to their majesty.

“Come away away by yourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.”
~Mark 6:31

A couple of weeks ago these words appeared in the lectionary readings for worship. The words are part of a story about Jesus and the disciples in the early days of their ministry. The scripture tells of the disciples and Jesus being so busy healing and telling the good news of God that they didn’t even have time to eat. The words bookend the story of the feeding of the 5000, one of the primary early stories of the Christian community.

It was my privilege to unpack this scripture during worship. So I had spent several weeks reading about this text, mulling its content and intention over in my head. I had read what other people had written about the text and their scholarship about the original meaning of the words. I had read passages of other books about the importance of getting away, taking time to rest, finding renewal in the busy lives we all seem to lead these days.

From this gathering of other’s words and some thoughts of my own, I fashioned a message I hoped would be helpful to some and at least benign to others. The responses were favorable for the most part and many people remarked about how ‘those were the words they needed to hear’. Not too bad on any preaching day. A few smiled and nodded as they passed me by not ready to commit to any kind of comment. Again, not too bad for most sermons.

It was only later that I heard from people who thought the message was bunk. To be fair, it was only two which again in a preaching world isn’t too bad either! But I was fascinated by the fact that, for some people, the idea of being encouraged to rest and be renewed was hogwash. Even if the original message came out of Jesus’ mouth and not mine.

And then I thought about how often, particularly in the church, there always seems to be a tension between those who live out their faith primarily through action and those who live out their faith primarily through prayer and contemplation. I have been in more than one meeting where these two camps of people butt heads about any number of issues. Those issues, from my observation, often come down to people holding out a judgment about who is REALLY doing the work of God. Are we more faithful in our acts of justice and compassion or those moments of deep listening and communion with the Holy through prayer and meditation?

Frankly, I have always found it difficult to believe we can have one without the other. Of course, given personality types and how we are generally wired differently, we may fall more easily in one camp or the other. But to think that my way of living out my faith is superior to another seems counter to the gospel which, as I read it, holds a balance of both doing and being.

Anyway, the experience once again opened my eyes to this tension and to the messiness of being church and doing church. I have spent a good deal of time reflecting upon it. In the meantime, I am holding onto Jesus’ encouragement to go to quiet places. To rest. At least for me, it is what I know I need in order to practice living a life that arcs toward justice, kindness, compassion and peace.

What about you? What quiet places call to you? Are you in need of rest these days if only so you can do the difficult tasks that have landed on your plate? Are you finding yourself too busy even to eat? If so, may you hear the words of Jesus calling your name: “Come away to a quiet place and rest.”