Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
     – Margaret Mead

Over the years I have tried to point out to our two sons the many important lessons one learns while playing a team sport. I have tried, without being too preachy I hope, to underscore that age old adage that "It is not so much whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game." You can probably imagine the eye rolling that statement has elicited.

The last several weeks have had me once again thinking about all that can be learned while playing a sport besides the thrill of victory. Our younger son has played soccer since he was about four years old. He is now in his senior year of high school and we have spent the last weeks watching his team try to overcome many obstacles. As sports go, here are just some of them: They are a young team. They are inexperienced and many lack confidence. Most have not had the benefit of the intense development programs of many of their opposing teams. They have not played together for years as some other teams have. There are even some language and cultural barriers to team building, different ways of thinking about and playing the game.

All of these reasons and certainly others contributed to what on paper could be seen as a dismal season. They won few games, tied a few and lost many. On paper this is a losing team. But no one who was watching their final game last evening, which they lost, could see the bonds that have built between these boys. No one could see the way the senior captains had mentored and coached the younger boys into a place of confidence that wouldn’t have seemed possible in August. No one would have noticed the huge change in their work ethic, how they gave their all till the bitter end even though they had no chance of winning. No one would have seen that these boys, strangers many of them only weeks ago, are now friends in two languages. No one could hear the encouragement and hope they gave one another before this final game, not only for this season, but for the eight seniors who took the field.

If Hollywood had written last night’s script, this team would have been victorious in the final moments of the game and a big musical score would have thundered out of the theater speakers while the audience cheered and cried. But this wasn’t Hollywood.This was Minnesota and the underdogs remained just that. Oh, there were tears alright. Tears of sadness, of course. Tears of knowing that something wonderful had come to an end. But also tears, I think, for all that had been gained and the important lessons that were learned. Life lessons.

"You shall ask

What good are
dead leaves

And I will tell
you

They nourish the
sore earth.

You shall ask

What reason is
there for winter

And I will tell
you

To bring about
new leaves.

You shall ask

Why are the
leaves so green

And I will tell
you

Because they are
rich with life

You shall ask

Why must summer
end

And I will tell
you

So that the
leaves can die."

  ~Nancy Wood

Yesterday was a rain day. Minnesotans talk often, some fondly, of snow days. But yesterday was a rain day. We needed the moisture. Many people have taken advantage of these mild fall days to plant trees and shrubs and the rain was welcome. The more than an inch of rain will provide much needed nourishment as these plants prepare for the winter months.

Later in the day the rain tapered off and as I drove home from work I was stunned by the brilliance of the fall colors. The day before the red, orange, and yellow leaves were noticeable but yesterday their colors simply shone with autumn beauty. Along the Mississippi river the trees danced with color weaving among the still lush green of summer leaves. Was it the rain that caused them to shine so brightly? Or was the brilliance caused by the contrast of green against the other fall colors? I wondered.

I thought about how rain is often used as a metaphor in spiritual writing, mirroring the cleansing that often comes before enlightenment, before salvation, before wholeness. The act of being washed, as the trees were yesterday, brings about newness, a fresh start, a beauty not seen before, a new way of being.

As I crossed a bridge on Highway 13 that reveals a ravine complete with a waterfall, I looked into the rolling folds of the hills that form this landmark. The sight took my breath away. The maples, birches, oak and pine trees formed a quilt of brilliant color, a testament to the cycles of birth, life, and death and the beauty of each season. The rain had washed them clean so they could show their true colors to the world for one of the last times this year. I was blessed to witness this miracle and thankful for the eyes to see such beauty in the world.

"What
do we mean by patriotism in the context of our times? I venture to
suggest that what we mean is a sense of national responsibility … a
patriotism which is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the
tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."  ~Adlai Stevenson

Over the weekend my husband and I headed to downtown St. Paul for the street dance held every year after the opening Prairie Home Companion Show. Saturday night was October in its perfection. The street in front of the Fitzgerald Theater was closed off and long tables covered in red checkered table cloths lined the street. Bright orange pumpkins sat on the tables and people autographed them as they sat eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes. At the far end of the street,a large stage had been erected and music played, loon calls were heard from people of all ages, dance contest winners were named and the most beautiful baby was chosen. How can one baby be more beautiful than the next, I say? But it was all in good fun. The music was down home and the mood was relaxed and good spirited.

That’s when Garrison Keillor stepped to the microphone and asked everyone present to sing with him. The band began the introduction and I realized we were not going to sing "You Are My Sunshine" or some other folk song but instead "The Star Spangled Banner."

Here is moment of self-disclosure. I am not fond of this song. As songs that speak of the love I have for our country, I vote for "American the Beautiful." For my money, the tune is lovely, singable and nearly everyone sounds good singing it. Add to that the wonderful words that tell of the vast diversity of the landscape that is the United States, and I believe you can’t miss. But that’s just me. I have stood in more stadiums than I care to think of and listened as bands, individuals and choirs sing our national anthem, sometimes with limited skill, and it always feels like the obligatory act before the real fun begins. Again, that’s just me.

But on Saturday night something amazing, something magical, something miraculous happened as strangers began singing together. Folks who had been talking while the other entertainment was happening, rose from their rented folding chairs. Men removed their hats. Even the children that had been wiggling and dancing with abandon stopped. As if we had rehearsed it under the baton of the director of the St. Olaf Choir, we sang…..some added harmony….while others gave their all to the melody that we know so well. A great silence hung in the autumn sky and for that moment in time we were a people suspended in time, unruffled and unaffected by the negative political climate, without fear of any economic downturn. This gathered body of strangers became a people united by the universal language, music, and the eternal human experience… hope.

"But ask now the beasts,
and they will teach you;
the birds of the air,
and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth,
and they will teach you;
and the fish of the sea will
declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
that the hand of God has done this?
In God’s hand is the life of every living
thing and the breath of every human being."
                        ~Job 12:7-10

As a rule people don’t delve into the book of Job much. It is a painful text, a depressing story in some ways. Job, who thinks of himself as a faithful man, is plagued by all kinds of hardships both physical and mental, and does some serious battle with himself, his friends and with God. He sticks with it though and wisdom comes in the end. For at least two people I know, this is their favorite book of the Bible. For one of those the text above is their favorite scripture.

This Sunday we will celebrate the Blessing of the Animals at our church. For Roman Catholics it marks the Sunday nearest the Feast Day of St. Francis, the saint known for his love and care of all Creation. It is an exciting Sunday in our community as people, both members and visitors, bring the pets that complete the circle of their family to church to be blessed and to be together. Standing in the front of the sanctuary looking out at humans of all ages and sizes sharing pews with dogs, cats, birds, ferrets, guinea pigs, mice and lizards, brings not only a smile to my face but warmth to me heart. It is a glorious day.

As I offer blessings to these nonhuman life companions, I am privileged to hear the stories of how these pets have brought comfort, friendship and healing to their owners. The stories are rich and reflect the words of the Holy One to Job. Make no mistake about it, these animals teach and declare that the hand of God moves in our lives in ways that words cannot express. The compassion of those soulful eyes that watch when we are ill or frightened are filled with wisdom beyond human abilities to console. Truly the image of God has many faces.

If you have a pet, today might be a good day to observe the wisdom they carry. The first observation is that living in the present moment is a good thing. The next might be that to lie down in the sun is healing and to follow the pattern of that sun as it moves connects you to the rhythm of the universe. And then, of course, enjoy your food…..really enjoy it. And follow that with the refreshing taste of a cool drink of water. When you need a nap, take one. It will all work out just fine. And finally, snuggle up close with someone you love.

Enjoy what promises to be a fabulous fall weekend………………….

"When we let go of clinging, then God begins to be." Meister Eckhart

I was rereading some paragraphs from a spiritual memoir this morning and the writer uses this quote to describe some of the lessons she learned while living in a Buddhist monastery in France. Clinging. It is a particularly descriptive word, isn’t it? Can’t you just feel your arms clinch, your knuckles growing white? Clinging. The pulse quickens and heart races at the sound of the word, the implication of the action. The word stirs the fires of panic, of fear, of desperation.

There have been some very dramatic images of clinging on the front pages of newspapers and magazines over these last days. Heads held in hands, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over. Clinging. To what? To a permeable illusion of security? Of safety? Of sanity?

Anyone who has been a parent knows that clinging stilts growth. When a child clings to the security of a parent’s hand or leg, they don’t venture onto the playground that will allow them to grow in new ways. When an older child clings to the security of a parent’s protection, they stifle the rich possibilities the world offers. Likewise when a parent clings to a child they stunt, not only the growth of the child, but their own ability to see themselves as a rich, vibrant person outside the life of the one given into their care. Clinging is rarely, if ever, a good thing.

Meister Eckhart, medieval mystic, goes so far as to say that when we stop clinging, God begins to be. It is with palms open and outstretched that we experience the movement of the Spirit urging us toward wholeness. It is with hearts open and the doors of our mind flung wide that we breathe deeply of the Sacred.

On this beautiful fall day, may we find the courage and the wisdom to open our palms, our minds and our hearts to a world still rich with all that is truly important. May we have moments where clinging ceases and God begins to be.

There are lots of ‘approved messages’ out there these days. Since we can no longer be assured that political messages are created by those running for office and their parties, it has become necessary for the candidates to be heard saying: "My name is __________ and I approved this message." It made me wonder what messages I would approve being said about me, about who I am, what I stand for, what I believe.  We also know from watching these ads that much of what is ‘approved’ is an attack on the rival candidate. This way of doing politics….which originally meant ‘the good of all the people’….is an unfortunate reality of our times. It seems we can’t really know much about a person without the process of comparison, even if that comparison stretches the truth or clothes itself in innuendo or false facts.

What are the approved messages of your life? What are the approved messages that your daily living sends into the world? Into your work environment? Into your family life? Into your circle of friends? Who are you and what do you really stand for? These are essential life questions. But they are ones we probably spend little time reflecting upon. If someone created an ad about your life, what would it say? Would you feel good about approving it?

I read these words in my morning prayer today: "Restore me in the image of your love this day that the longings of my heart may be true. Restore me in the image of your love this day that my passions for life may be full." These words by J. Philip Newell seem to me to be a beginning of a message I would like to approve. Let me be an image of love in the world this day. Let my heart be filled with longings that are filled with truth. Let me be passionate about all that will bring fullness of life, not only to me but to all.

It seems it is important to write the messages we would approve for ourselves and not allow others to write them for us. What messages are you approving with your life this day?

"All my life’s a circle, sunrise & sundown, Moon rolls thru the nighttime til day break comes around. All my life’s a circle, still I wonder why. Seasons spinning ’round again,years keep rolling by. Seems like I’ve been here before, can’t remember when. I get this funny feeling, we’ll be together again. No straight lines make up my life, all my roads have bends. No clearcut beginning, so far no dead ends." ~Harry Chapin, Circles

There are many ways we mark the passage of time. We celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. We watch the seasons change from the greening promise of spring to the beauty of autumn leaves changing to brilliant reds and golds and finally to the brown that sends them cascading onto the first snow of winter. Some people make an ‘X’ on their calendars to mark off another day accomplished. Sometimes these passages of time can feel exciting and full of promise. Other times they bring great sadness and loss.

A couple of weeks ago our oldest son celebrated his 21st birthday. It was a great reminder of the passage of time. How did this young, energetic blonde-headed boy become an adult right before our very eyes? And while he speaks of his age as if it is ancient, how is it that I don’t feel any older at all? I guess the passage of time is lined with the membranes of grace.

Yesterday I held the new born son of a young woman that I used to babysit for when she was in third grade. His newness in the world was written all over him from his fuzzy cheeks to the way he would squint his eyes at the light that must seem so bright after nine months in dark, watery safety. We talked and I observed the same quiet, strong spirit alive in her that I witnessed in her as a child. But here we were. Three generations sitting quietly together marking a passage of time. I felt blessed to be aware of its significance.

Writing these words I am reminded of the ancient Celts who did not think of time as linear, as passing, but as continuous like a circle. Their sense that all time is existing in this circular nature, that those who have gone before and those who are yet to be are among us, softens the edges of the feeling of passage. There is even more grace in that notion. The saints who lived are still living and  time is not divided into losses and gains.

That young girl who inspired me with her strength and wisdom lives in the young woman who now cradles her newborn. The energy and exuberance of our first born son now shines forth from the sparkling blue eyes of the 21-year-old man ready to take on the world. And so it goes. Round and round, not passage of time as much as sacred circle in which we all travel, floating in grace.

Have a blessed weekend……………….

"We put our arms around each other
a pair of ordinary tax-paying human arms
not to rest them
but to harden them
a pair of ordinary concrete-accustomed
and marketed human arms
a pair of ordinarily needing
a par of ordinarily hugging
human arms
we put them around each other
they are health-insured and ordinarily dressed
a pair of ordinarily love-interpreting
human arms
how strong they are
sovereign, independent-
no matter where
no matter what the hour
no matter what the season
suddenly and for all time
human arms
without speculation
we put them around each other
as if to show that their powerlessness
doesn’t exist."
         ~ Marianne Larsen, poet

Human arms. While I was leafing through a book of prayers compiled for the year 2000 and the approach of the new millennium, I came across this poem. Marianne Larsen is a Danish poet and her words conjured up the beautiful image of arms interlinked and the power of that image. I recognized that the image itself caused my heart to slow, to soften and brought a sense of calm to my spirit.

You see, I have be listening and watching, as many have, the dire messages in our media. It is easy to go to the panic place, to react quickly, to isolate. It is a natural animal reaction to fear and danger. But there is a powerlessness in that. It is a reaction that gives over our power as a collective community of gifted, creative beings to an outside force.

Instead I want to be a part of a community that comes together to solve, to strategize, to dream of ways that can help us heal the wounds of where we find ourselves as individuals, as a country, as a world. Fear will not do that. Panic will not do that. Isolation will not do that.

Human arms, human hands, human hearts, human spirits, linked together is the only thing that has ever solved the world’s most difficult problems. These days I plan to surround myself with the brightest, the most compassionate, the most creative and wise, the most humble people I know. Together I pray we can eat together, pray together and look with hopeful eyes toward a future that is unknown but still held gently in the arms of the Holy.

I pray our leaders, in their own ways, can do something similar.

I receive a quarterly newsletter from a group in Seattle called Earth Ministry. I love looking through it for interesting articles on faith and care of the Earth. There are always challenging articles,poems and prayers written by people who are passionately trying to connect their faith and their daily life. They are trying to create their ‘life’s work’ based on how they see the Holy in the world. This is important and challenging work.

My eyes fell on a fall gathering they call "Story Chair". It is described as ‘an intimate,seasonal gathering honoring leaders in the community and inviting them to share how their faith informs and guides their life and their work.’ Reading the title made me think of the really large green Adirondack chairs that are placed around the Twin Cities as objects of art in various green spaces. I imagined the storyteller crawling up into the monstrous chair to tell his or her story,lifted up to the seat of the chair with the help of the rest of the community. The Story Chair would be the focus of the community for that moment as people listened deeply to the movement of the Holy in the life of this loved one.

Last week at one of our worship services I quoted an article I had read from another magazine. "Every morning we wake up at the intersection of faith and contemporary life, and we offer them Christ." I explained to the community that, while this magazine was written for church professionals, these words applied to everyone. Each morning we plant our feet on the ground, if we are blessed to do so, and we walk into the culture in which we have been born. A culture that for the most part we did not create but are a part of nonetheless. How we take our inner life and mold it with our outer life is the art of being human. This work is not for the faint hearted. There are many obstacles, many things to trip us up, many situations in which we would simply like to turn our backs and pretend that it is another time, another place, a simpler time(or so we imagine) or a time in which someone else is in control, certainly not us. Living faithfully, however we name that, in our time and our world, is the gift and the challenge each of us face. It is the task of integrity and authenticity to which each of us is called.

I wonder how I might tell my story if I found myself sitting in the Big Green Story Chair. How would I articulate my faith intersecting with contemporary life these days? How would you? How would you tell your story to the rapt listeners looking up with craned necks and hopeful eyes? The contemporary life we all share is complicated. We often think our lives are more complicated than those that went before us. I would venture to say that is probably not an accurate assumption. But since it is all we know it is our only barometer.

I would like to believe that if I sat in the Story Chair I would end my story by quoting the words of Annie Dillard which have always inspired me:" Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who shall stand in his holy place? There is no one but us. There is no one to send, nor a clean hand, nor a pure heart on the face of the earth, nor in the earth, but only us, a generation comforting ourselves with the notion that we have come at an awkward time, that our innocent fathers are all dead—as if innocence had ever been…. But there is no one but us. There never has been."

At the end of my story, I hope my friends would lift me gently from the Story Chair. There is, after all, much to be done. And there is no one but us.

"This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
But other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine."

These words written in 1934 by Lloyd Stone reflect the first stanza of a hymn that is a favorite in my faith community. Set to the tune Finlandia by Jean Sibelius, it is the song most often requested by people. It is a beautiful tune, regal and heart moving. But I believe it is the words that people want to sing. They want to claim their love for this country, for the area of the country in which they live and to pay homage to the land that has shaped their view of the world, their understanding of the presence of the Holy.

But I think there is also the wonderful sense of humility in the lyrics that we all want to try to live up to. The recognition that our land is so precious to us but so are the lands of others to them. This morning on MPR’s Morning Show they played several songs about Lake Superior. I found my heart tugging in my chest as I listened to the love songs to this Great Lake and thought of the times this summer when I walked its shores and stared out at the expanse of powerful and ancient wisdom that make up its waters. A person who has never experienced this mighty lake would not have reacted in the same way just as I could not feel the same love and affection for, say, a lake in China or any other part of the world. But my belief if that, just as I can be moved to tears by the beauty of this body of water, so others all around the world find that deep meaning in the land that surrounds them, that defines them, that they call home.

Today marks the autumnal equinox in which all over the world for the most part, humans will experience an equal amount of daylight and darkness. Today we will be held in the same amount of light and the same amount of night light as those who live in countries with which we are at war. Those fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan will be held today by the Sun and the Moon just as we are held.Though this is always true,  he equinox is the great equalizer in some ways. What if we all marked this day by honoring this astronomical similarity rather than focusing on the ways in which we are different? What might happen? How might the world change? How might we change? It is humbling thought.

"My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine."

This evening as we end our day and say goodbye to the day in which we are all equal in light and darkness, perhaps our prayer might be for those in lands far from ours who love their home as much as we do. And that prayer might begin the peace we long to see.