I clicked on my phone this morning to see what time it was and was greeted with a Washington Post article on climate change, the result of a wide-ranging study with dire predictions. If I had harbored any hesitations about the legitimacy of such news, they would certainly have been quelled by the scholarship of the report. For me, however, it was just more evidence of what has been patently obvious over several years of watching what is happening to Earth, our Mother. The clearest conclusion in the study is that humans are responsible for the underlying causes of much of what is happening and it is up to us to work toward reform in our use and abuse of the goods of the earth.
As I read, I heard Psalm 19 echoing in my head and heart and I was struck by a question forming in response. Listen, please!
The heavens declare the glory of God and the skies proclaim the work of God’s hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech; they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the end of the world…(vs. 1-4)
Are we listening?
Sometimes we just have to “let go and let God.” At the beginning of this week we had heard from people who said, “Oh yes, I’d like to come to your soup supper” (see yesterday’s post) but at that point we only had one confirmed reservation. I think it was on Tuesday that we counted up nine additional people. Since I have been engaged in programming events for years where reservations (not necessarily for food but sometimes just for space and set-up), I expected some “after deadline traffic” but I was beginning to wonder about the folly of such an undertaking. My last call for an additional two attendees was yesterday morning about seven hours before the event. By then I had developed enough stamina to reply, “Of course you can come! I’ll see you there!” while my mind was saying, “Will we have enough soup? Will I find enough soup spoons? Should we have ordered more books”…etc.
There are many reasons to celebrate St. Francis of Assisi, a man whose life took what we would probably call a 180-degree turn after a serious illness and became one of Christianity’s most beloved saints. We who live in this neighborhood of the USA cannot help thinking of Francis as we watch the splendid transformation of the trees – not unlike the life and conversion of Francis himself. From the greening of spring when they seem to be born again to the maturing in summer, reflecting the grandeur of God, to the flaming out in vivid color that seems to lead to death, they are a metaphor for his 44 years on the earth. We know that after the next few weeks of spectacular color – already manifesting in New Hampshire and Vermont – the trees will join the bears in hibernation only to return again after the long sleep of winter. Francis knew all these seasons in his life and praised God for all of it in the wonderful prayer that we know as the Canticle of Creation. As we pray it today, let us be mindful of our earth and the challenges faced by climate change, asking St. Francis (and Pope Francis!) to increase our mindfulness of the need to care more consciously for this, our home.
Last night again I stayed up late watching amazing young people engage in sports. And again I was heartened to hear them tell not only of their joy at winning medals but also of their gratitude for the support of their teams, their coaches and all others who have supported them in their efforts. They also spoke of the privilege of representing their country at the Olympics – just being there, in such a “world community” as indescribable. In the face of all the negative events swirling around us daily in the news and in our neighborhoods, it is helpful to experience the worldwide cooperation that is evident in the contests in Rio.
