Having no worthwhile thoughts of my own this morning, I opened Richard Rohr’s book, The Divine Dance. Choosing at random a title from this mountain of creativity, I got just what I needed. The title was “The Delight of Diversity.” (I have loved alliterations for a very long time.) Here’s what I read that I offer to you for today.
“Goodness isn’t sameness. Goodness, to be goodness, needs contrast and tension, not perfect uniformity. If Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all God yet clearly different, and we embrace this differentiation, resisting the temptation to blend them into some kind of amorphous blob, then there are at least three shapes to pure goodness. (And, of course, probably more.)” p. 61.
Chew on that for awhile, will you, especially if you are unhappy or frustrated with your “companions on the journey” today. If you can’t delight in the fact that others are diverse rather than just like you, try to love them anyway. Won’t you, please?
As I was mowing the lawn yesterday I woke up to the shift in the season. The colors are changing, the smells and earthiness on the breeze in the back field are different and there is a wistfulness that bubbles up in me to know that once again we are moving away from the lightness of summer. At the same time, I am now alert for the glory to come as I search the trees for the tinges of color that announce the autumn miracle of the leaves. It’s always a risk that the summer was too wet or too dry to allow much color in the autumn leaves but we are usually wrong and nature puts on a lovely show. I found a little prayer this morning, just right to accompany me this day.
There seem to be lots of reasons to get moving this morning and greet the day with anticipation. The reasons don’t come from the outside; the day (as much as I can determine it from the vantage point of my bedroom window) is looking rather dismal. But the lectionary readings declare the truth that the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord and the verse before the gospel shouts out the recognition that this is the day that the Lord has made! Rather like “Wake up!” or “Don’t miss it!” that declarative is followed with the imperative: Let us be glad and rejoice in it!
This morning as I read Psalm 86 I thought of how blessed I am with good friends to whom I can go for comfort in troubled times. There are moments, however, when it is only God who will suffice as a sounding board – or when it feels as if that is true. When I have acted in a less than worthy manner or judged someone unjustly, I am likely to first seek God’s forgiveness until I work up the courage and humility to admit my fault to a human being. Excuses abound for bad behavior and it is only when the layers of babble are stripped away – usually in conversation with God – that I dare to admit my need for forgiveness. How blessed are we, therefore, to have a God whose name is Love! I am grateful to the psalmist today – and to the translator – for these comforting words that give me pause.
It seems ironic that only 48 hours after I wrote my thoughts about optimism, we are faced with the shocking reality of the dangerous world in which we live. At this moment in Manchester, England, we know there are 22 people dead and dozens more with serious, even critical injuries because of a powerful bomb blast perpetrated, it is reported, by a single suicide bomber. Many of those victims of violence are teenagers. This is an unspeakable horror and ought to shake us to our core.
Psalm 25 is clearly one in which we can see that the psalmist has an ongoing relationship with God. This morning, in an alternative translation of the psalm, I got the notion that God needed reminding of the responsibility of mutuality in that relationship. The lectionary only gives verses 4-8 for our consideration but I want to introduce the text with verse one because it made me smile (as in a parent saying to children who are acting up in some way: “Don’t make me come up there…”). The psalmist begins by reminding God: To you I surrender up my soul, O God. In you I place my deepest trust. May I not regret this wanton act of love; may it never be defeated by some foe.
