"Light our way, O God of the living. May we learn to see with new eyes." 
             David Haas, from Morning Hymn

I have been out of  the "beam of civilization" for a few days which is to say….where there was no Internet service…and have been unable to write these reflections. It is an unusual experience to disconnect in this way. But now that I am "reconnected" I want to share a  ‘first’ for me.

I wrote last week about the upcoming Blessing of the Animals service that happened this past Sunday. It was a glorious event, many beautiful dogs of all shapes and sizes, also several cats, one in particular who filled every silence with its magnificent voice.There were two sweet little mice in a pale, pink screened lunch box shaped carrier. But the highlight for many of us was the gecko named Peppy.

Peppy arrived with his family…Mom, one boy and two girls. He came to church in small Tupperware container with air holes punched in the top. I was told it was his ‘traveling container’ and that at home he lived in a much different home.  Peppy and his family were first time guests and seemed to be having a lively wonderful morning.

Let me be clear. I am not a great fan of most reptiles. I am skittish about their ability to move fast, their ‘sliminess’.  So when I greeted Peppy and his family, under normal circumstances, I would have been fairly anxious.  Peppy sat right behind me during the entire worship service. I observed the way he was lovingly held by his boy. I watched Mom gently hold Peppy during the singing of a hymn as she helped the girls count the number of times we sang "Alleluia!". I was amazed by Peppy’s body as it clung to the boy’s finger and watched as the boy brought Peppy toward his face until they were nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye. Certainly this reptile was unlike others I had met……this reptile was loved unconditionally and was a treasured part of this family.

As the family brought Peppy forward for a blessing, the boy placed Peppy in my outstretched hand just as he had seen others do with their dogs and cats. The boy expected, without saying so, that Peppy would be as welcome in my hands as the other furry creatures had been. As Peppy crawled onto my finger, the family gathered around my open palm. "Peppy, may God bless you all your days and may you always be a faithful companion" I spoke these words and watched the smiles break across their faces. Peppy seemed to lift his lidless eyes toward me…..or was it just my imagination? Perhaps it was I who was being blessed…….. By this sweet family who love this strange little lizard, who see his beauty, his uniqueness, his place in the family of God.

All I know for sure it that I held a gecko…..and I was not afraid. I was joyful.

"I sing praise to You, my Lord, for all You have made, Especially for Brother Sun,Who brings the day and through whom You give us light." St. Francis of Assisi, 1181-1226

"The heavens are telling the glory of God and all Creation is shouting for joy. Come dance in the forest, come play in the field, and sing, sing to the glory of the Lord." These are the words we will sing this Sunday as we celebrate the Blessing of the Animals. The first Sunday of October is nearest to the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals, birds and the environment. It has been our practice for several years now to open our doors and, as one person said, "invite the WHOLE family" to church. It is a glorious day in our sanctuary as dogs, cats, birds, guinea pigs, ferrets, snakes, spiders…..and oh, so many others, accompany their humans to worship.

We have found over the years that it is a particularly moving service for so many. I especially am moved as I hear the stories of the animals, as told by those who speak words, of how there has been joy, suffering, healing, and companionship between these animals and their owners. I am equally touched when a person brings the ashes of their pet to be blessed before they find their final resting place.There is great laughter in the service as well…..dogs love to join in the singing, cats are not shy about displaying their distaste of the canines, birds let their voices rise when the organ reaches a crescendo, and sometimes they form a choir to let the humans know….enough with the talking!

In the past we have hosted penguins(they rode in a refrigerated case), horses, a parade of helping dogs, llamas,camels, giraffes,cows, pigs,sheep, donkeys, even elephants.But my most vivid memory was what I now refer to as "The Year of the Yak."

We were focusing that year on the animals new to Minnesota and had learned that, with our growing Tibetan Buddhist community, there was actually a yak farmer who brought the magnificent animals to gatherings so people could get to know them. The plan was that during our final hymn , "All Creatures of the Earth and Sky", the yak and his handler would process down our center aisle and we would visually feast on the beauty and power of this animal held holy by our newest residents. (As I write this I can feel my blood pressure rise.)

The organ began…the people sang….the dogs howled….the farmer and the yak began their walk down the aisle. I don’t claim to be particularly intuitive when it comes to animals but standing in the front of the sanctuary, I looked into the eyes of this huge, horned beast, and said to myself "something is amiss". The yak processed with tentative dignity. The handler seemed in control but somehow I still felt uneasy. They continued down the aisle as people turned to behold the sheer beauty and size of this animal. Then my eyes fell on the front row where the Great Dane sat, regal, calm and sure that, indeed, it was the largest creature in the space…….until now. As the yak handler reached the end of the aisle, Yak and Dane looked into one another eyes. I looked into the eyes of the handler and we both knew….the best thing to do was to  make as gracious an exit as there had been an entrance. Turning the sleek, brown, beast around, they walked slowly out of the sanctuary. Humans took a collective breath, dogs settled back, cats peeked out, and we finished the last line of the hymn…..Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

To be fair, it seems the yak had had an unfortunate encounter with another animal on its way to our church and so was not in a very good mood. This Sunday we will gather with great joy, to celebrate the wonder of all God’s creatures, large and small. We will offer blessings and gratitude for the gifts of these animals as our companions, our amazement and our delight. And we will raise our voices together singing "Alleluia!"

Have a blessed weekend…………..

Belgium.
Who would have thought the green beans I was eating came from…..Belgium?! Over
the last year I, like many others, have become aware of where my food actually
is grown and the fossil fuels it takes to get it to my table. This realization
began for me as I was listening to Bill McKibben on the radio while eating by
usual lunch of salad. It was March or April, I can’t remember, but certainly
not lettuce growing season in Minnesota.I don’t remember the exact statistics but it went something like “for every
calorie your body takes in from the lettuce you eat, 30 calories of carbon fuel
brought it to you.” Frankly, I don’t have any idea about the measurement of
fossil fuels…..all I know is that it seems like a pretty large trade off in the
grand scheme of things.

 So this summer when I started reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, I began to
think seriously about where my food comes from and how I can be more responsive
to the environmental impact of how I eat. It can be a fascinating and
compulsive practice. It also seems to me that, in the often overwhelming and
powerless pursuit of halting…or at least slowing global warming, this is
something concrete I, a regular person living a regular life, can do. I can be
aware of where my food comes from, trying to buy as local or regional as
possible, trying to lessen my carbon footprint. It seems a reasonable thing to
do.

 Which brings me to the green beans. All last year my family
came to love some steam-in-the-bag green beans I buy at Target. They are
lovely, thin, sweet green beans, ready in 6 minutes. The implication is that
they were plucked from the vine, bathed in cold water, frozen and so retain
most of their nutrients….just like fresh picked.

 Fresh picked is what
we had been eating all summer but their season is ended. So I went to the frig
on Monday and grabbed the freezer to microwave package, threw them in and
punched in six minutes. As I bustled around the kitchen putting the rest of
dinner on the table, I could see the bag expanding, steaming those luscious
beans. The bell rang….finished….steamed. I plucked the bag from the microwave,
carefully cutting the bag open with scissors so as not to be burned from the
escaping hot air….Belgian air. That’s when my eyes fell on the words: Product
of Belgium. I felt sick. For all the nutrients, all the sweetness, all the
greenness, was it worth it? I think not. As for our family, we will have to
find a different source for our green beans this winter.

“At its heart, a genuine food culture is an affinity between people and
the land that feeds them."  Barbara
Kingsolver

I have just finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book Leaving Church: a memoir of faith. I believe I may have mentioned this book here before. To be honest it is a book that has taken me over a year to read….mostly because I found it threw the mirror up too closely to my face, exposing many things I haven’t wanted to look at or examine. All that said, it is a powerful look at someone who has given much of her life to the work of the Church and how that changed who she is and now who she is becoming.

In the final chapter she tells of being introduced at a church gathering with the words:"Tell us what is saving your life now." Now there is a statement that stops a person in their tracks! (Note to self….always ask the person who is introducing you for a hint about what they might say.) Brown Taylor goes on to say that it was such a significant question that she has continued the practice of asking others that question as she continues to search for her own answers.

Pointing out that most of us can make long lists of what is "killing us"…..stress, the pace of our lives, grief, fear, envy, hopelessness….the list goes on. But what is "saving us"? Unfortunately in the church we have packed the word "salvation" into a pretty tight…and small…box. Much of the time many of us shy away from even using the word because of its constricting definition. But the reality is that what is saving us….what is making us whole…what is moving us closer to the radiance of our relationship with the Holy…is present and deserves our voice and our gratitude.

While I continue to live into this question, I invite you to do the same. Here are Barbara Brown Taylor’s ‘acts of salvation’. Maybe hers will help jog our minds and move us to that place of deep gratitude."Teaching school is saving my life now. Living in relationship with creation is saving my life now.Observing Sabbath is saving my life now. Encountering God in other people is saving my life now. Committing myself to the task of becoming fully human is saving my life now."

Perhaps today is the day to stop giving energy to the list of those things that are ‘killing us’ and begin instead to name those things that are saving us. Salvation…wholeness…humanness….holiness…..maybe they are closer than we think.

"What we are all more or less lacking at this moment is a new definition of holiness."
       Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

I often say that it is an ‘occupational hazard’ that I read the obituaries every morning in the newspaper. Often I will recognize a name of a former church member, someone I have known in another part of their life and mine, and I will send a blessing for their living, for their family. Still other times, a sad situation will present itself, where a member of our large church dies and no one has notified us that they are ill, we have lost the connection that would make that so, and we have not been present to them in these times. So many emotions crowd into that space.

But often I read them out of curiosity and as a personal reminder of my own human-ness, my own mortality. I am most interested in what words people choose to describe the life of their loved one. Most times the obituary says as much about those who wrote it as it does about the one who has passed on. Which seems logical, right, important, somehow, for they are the ones doing the grieving, the remembering.

In describing the life of one young woman, her family said she was "dragged kicking and screaming into the hereafter." I have always remembered that. It spoke of her tenacity, her spunk, and their huge loss in such a vibrant way. Still others write of their loss of all kinds of physical battles with cancer, with chronic illnesses, with depression. I imagine the journey they have all traveled together…the lessons learned, the growth that has happened, the anger that has lived in their presence, the resolutions they have endured.

Today I read:"No memorials;only ask that you give a smile to the next person you see." I am looking right now at the photo of someone I have never met…this person who through her death has invited me into the life she tried to live, into the simple way she walked upon the earth. How can I not respond?

Her simple wish reminded me of an anonymous poem I have read at funerals from time to time. "When I die if you need to weep cry for your brother or sister walking beside you. And when you need me, put your arms around anyone and give them what you need to give me. I want to leave you something, something better than words or sounds. Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved and if you cannot give me away, at least let me live in your eyes and not on your mind. You can love me most by letting hands touch hands, by letting bodies touch bodies, and by letting go of children that need to be free. Love doesn’t die, people do. So when all that’s left of me is love, give me away."

We walk through our days, through our living, with the memories …..and the spirits…. of those we’ve loved and those others have loved, moving all around us. Today, I will be walking and offering a smile…..because someone invited me to do so….with her living.

For the last three weeks I have been leading a class on Sunday evenings on the topic of hospitality as a spiritual practice. In the early planning for this class, another of our ministers pointed out that the Greek word "xenos" means "stranger, guest and host"…….one word, three fairly distinct meanings, at least in our culture. This definition, and its seemingly diverse meanings,  has led to some lively discussions both in my class and in other conversations.

How often do you consider yourself a "stranger"? What does that word conjure up for you? Most often people respond with words like….fear, anxiety, protection. Most of us don’t choose to put ourselves in situations where we are the stranger or will encounter the stranger.

What about "guest"? Do you enjoy being a guest? Or does it bring discomfort for the expectation in implies?Do you enjoy having guests at your home, your table, in your work place? How do you prepare your home…and your heart…for the guest? Is it different from the way you prepare for the stranger?

Then there is "host". Do you enjoy being a host or does it carry with it some of the same anxieties that encounters with strangers might bring?

How we answer these questions depends on so many things……whether we are introverts or extroverts, our age, our sex, our family background, and countless other factors. But make no mistake about it, the scriptures do call us to be welcoming to one another, whether stranger, guest or host. Matthew writes:"
"I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me." Or I was a guest and you welcomed me…..or a host.

Perhaps the gift of this multiple meaning is that in reality we are always one of these…stranger, guest,  host…in all our daily living. We are guests on this Sacred planet. We are hosts to the presence of one another. We are strangers sometimes to ourselves. But in these relationships that have give and take, push and pull, we do a dance that mirrors our human connection with the Ground of All Being…..the Holy who welcomes us and is home for us.

Xenos…..who would have known that this small Greek word could have such power and such attraction?

"Once upon a time, the ancients tell us, a disciple said to the rabbi, "God took six days to create the world and it is not perfect. How is that possible?" "Could you have done better?" the rabbi asked. "Yes, I think I could have," the disciple said. "Then what are you waiting for?" the rabbi said. "Go ahead. Start working."
A Hasidic Tale

Many years ago I came across the writings of Matthew Fox. It was in his book Original Blessing that I came to understand the concept of co-creation and it has influenced how I think about my work in the world ever since. The basic gist is this: We are all in this business of creating the world…God…me…you…all the time, it never stops.

Now this, of course, was a very different message than the one I was taught in Sunday School. That message contained a God who created the world…perfect…and we humans messed it up and that is why things are the way the are. I have to admit that there was something within me that never truly bought that message. When I read Original Blessing, my life, the church, my faith, my image of God began to find, at least for me, a deeper grounding.

If I am a co-creator with God in and of the world, that has real power. If the Holy and I are in this together, what responsibility do I have to take this work seriously? Do my part?

I’ve been thinking about this lately because I have found myself staggering toward cynicism. As I read the papers, listen to political candidates, hear speeches from church leaders, it is really easy for me to feel powerless, voiceless. What can I possibly do to end this senseless war? How can I possibly be a voice for justice in our church? What can I do to stop the destruction of this beautiful, amazing planet?

That’s when it hits me…...I am a co-creator. Little old me….with all my flaws, my insecurities, my doubts,my short-sighted-ness.  This is not a perfect world by a long shot. But it is the world in which the Creator has flung me….and you….all of us for this time in the history of Universe. And we are asked simply to do our part…..however we discern it.

I don’t know what a perfect world is. But I do have a notion of what a more-perfect world would look like. And that does not include tyranny, oppression, hunger, hopelessness, war, injustice. It would include honor for all God’s creations…that is ALL.

So, today I will fight against the cynicism that grows with powerlessness. Instead I will remember that we are in this together….you…me…and the One who breathed and loved us into being. And we are ALL counting on one another…today, tomorrow, and everyday.

"Do you want a test to know if your work in life is over? If you are alive, it isn’t."  Richard Bach

Enjoy the falling leaves this weekend………………….

"Stand at the crossroads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way lies; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls."  Jeremiah 6:16

Yesterday’s Star Tribune had a lovely article on labyrinths, reporting on a workshop that is being held at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum this week. I was thrilled to see the various forms the labyrinth designer Lisa Gidlow Moriarty has taken in creating these mindful prayer patterns she has built in her yard. They were thoughtful, playful and beautiful.

We have been blessed at this church to have a labyrinth for prayer since 1994. I remember the "risk" we felt we were taking when we introduced it to the community. Yet many of us had experienced the power of this walking meditation and believed it was yet another way for people to experience the Holy. The perception of risk came from those who thought it was "new age" or "not Christian". After careful education we were able to calm their fears as we shared the labryinth’s Christian and world-wide cultural history.  Over the years we been blessed with many important worship experiences that have taken place on our canvas labyrinth which uses the same pattern that exists on the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France.

When walking the labyrinth, you stake a claim that you walk life’s path with God. That path moves in and out and twists and turns as you travel, but there is never a way to be lost, to be disconnected from the Sacred One. This is a very different way to see our walk in life. Most of the messages of our culture are that our life is a puzzle to be solved, a maze to be "figured out", that at each twist and turn there is a trick that will ‘get you’ or leave you behind. Not a very generous or gracious view of life and not a view that, at least from my experience of God, has any truth.

Each day we set out on our daily path. Will it be like the path of the maze….where mental puzzles must be solved to continue, where the construction of the path hopes for our failure? Or will it be like the labyrinth…..walking with God, toward God, surrounded by God, finding rest for our souls?

"All of the larger-than-life questions about our presence here on earth and what gifts we have to offer are spiritual questions. To seek answers to these questions is to seek a sacred path.As we find our meaning and purpose we also realize that some invisible form of guidance has been leading us. We may not be able to recognize this in the moment, but in looking back over our lives we see the footprints of an invisible being that has guided us, challenged us, and carried us through times of crisis."Dr. Lauren Artress

"I find that I have painted my life-things happening in my life-without knowing it." Georgia O’Keefe

I ran across this quote by Georgia O’Keefe the other day. Many are anticipating an exhibit of her work that opens in the Twin Cities next week. Those beautiful bold images of flowers…..painted in such close range…it seems the viewer could walk right into the blossom. The rich colors of the Southwest, her stark black crosses that jump off the canvas at you. "I find that I have painted my life…" No matter our occupation, our work, what we create on a daily basis, isn’t this one of our greatest hopes? That what we spend our minutes, hours, weeks, years, doing what will reflect the truth of our life, our living.

Yesterday I was looking for a book I had read long ago about the stages of faith development articulated by James Fowler. In the introduction, Fowler writes about his profound experience of being brought to a stand still by a list of questions he had written and planned to use in a workshop.Driving along a road near Asheville, North Carolina, Fowler had to pull over and take stock of how he would answer the questions he was so cavalierly posing to others….how he was "painting his life". Here are a few of the questions:

"What are you spending and being spent for? What commands and receives your best time, your best energy? What causes, dreams, goals, or institutions are you pouring out your life for? As you live your life, what power or powers do you fear or dread? What power or powers do you rely on and trust? To what or whom are you committed in life? In death? With whom and what group do you share your most sacred and private hopes for your life and for the lives of those you love? What are those most sacred hopes, those most compelling goals and purposes in your life?"

Very deep and important questions, especially for a Wednesday.But I offer them to you as I wrestle with them myself. Hidden in the answers are the colors….bold reds, gentle yellows, challenging purples, shining whites, vesper blues, rich blacks…..waiting for the artist in each of us.

The fields in our neighborhood and along the roads are showing a brilliant red these days.The color is not coming from the taller trees but the sumac bushes that have grown wild, planted there by the generosity of birds. During the summer months you don’t notice the bushes so much but as the season begins to turn, their brilliance is breathtaking.

The sumac bush has clumps of red berries which provide a wonderful contrast in summer to their deep green leaves. As you walk through the fields of Minnesota, the plant is common, as is its dangerous cousin, poison-ivy. Over the weekend when I noticed the plethora of buses along Hwy. 110, I was reminded of a very significant memory which included sumac.

While directing a children’s camp one summer at Koinonia, our church’s retreat center near Annandale, the children were working with a fabric artist, learning how to take the gifts of nature and create dyes for yarn and cloth. The theme of the camp was Bibletimes 29 A.D. and our goal was to experience some of the crafts, foods, games, and work habits of the early Christians. The fabric artist walked through the woods pointing out different plants that, when boiled, created dyes for otherwise bland clothing.

She pointed out the sumac, its deep scarlet berries, and harvested some for our first century duds. Placing the brilliant berries in the pot that boiled over the fire, many of the children dreamed of the great red togas they would be wearing later. But as the berries began to boil, the water turned not red, but a rich, beautiful gold.

As I saw the sumac yesterday, I thought about all the times when our expectation of what something-or someone- has to offer turns out to be completely different. That summer our expectation was that because the berries of the sumac were red, our dye would be red. But the sumac held a surprise……gold. How often our expectations allow us only to see the surface of what a colleague, a challenge, a child holds deep within. We see red….they carry gold….waiting to be warmed enough to offer their inner depth.

Just knowing that the world holds such hidden promise should keep us on our toes, with eyes wide open, watching for the next surprise. What will it be?

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious."  Albert Einstein