The first lectionary reading for today is quite familiar to me, more from liturgical music than from the text of Jeremiah the prophet (18: 1-6). We sing: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are we to you, O God…” (That may not be an exact rendition, but I know I have the tune right!) Most familiar to most younger churchgoers of the 1970s is Carey Landry’s song, Abba, Father, attesting that “You (God) are the Potter, we are the clay: the work of your hands…”
Watching a potter at the wheel can be fascinating but I have learned (only from watching, of course) that it is not as smooth or easy as it seems. And, having endured workshops where the goal was creating something out of quick-drying clay, I know that it is more difficult for most of us than we would care to admit. So I have to give God a lot of credit today for the willingness to form us all—especially uniquely—into the works of art that we become once we let go of the hard edges and rigidity of thought that keep us as “works in process.” While God may feel a need to re-form us on occasion, I am ever grateful for the patience that stops the Creator from smashing us in frustration and I trust implicitly that “the kindness of the Lord endures forever,” no matter how long it takes for us to allow the creation.
Our most cherished annual gathering, to honor St. Joseph (feast day 3/19) and those Sisters celebrating a jubilee in religious life (40, 50, 60, 70, 75 years this time), was held yesterday. The liturgy was glorious and we “sang our hearts out!” As I thought of that turn of phrase this morning I felt more deeply the truth of our covenant with God as expressed in today’s first lectionary reading from Jeremiah 31:31-34.
Today is not a happy remembrance in the calendar of Church feasts. It is the commemoration of “the Holy Innocents,” the victims of Herod’s massacre of all the baby boys under two years old. Herod was determined to eliminate the possibility that someone – a “new-born” king (Jesus) – would usurp his power. Since he had no idea of where that child might be found, his rage prompted the terrible deed that left so many mothers bereft. It was a fruitless gesture, as violence always is, because Jesus and his parents were well on their way to Egypt when the massacre occurred.
On days like today when we have been once again faced with senseless, unspeakable violence, this time on a scale not seen before in our history, it is difficult to even begin to speak of it. My first thought this morning was of a line from Scripture: A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more. (JER 31:15) As we turn in prayer toward the people of Las Vegas – for that seems the only thing to do as the tally of dead and wounded continues to rise – we must lament, as individuals and as a nation. And in the face of the distress in this dawning day, I turn to Meg Wheatley for a way to persevere.
My “homecoming” this past Sunday was truly refreshing. Being able to sleep for a continuous 12 hours (!) and then walk outside around our land in the morning breathing the good country air and catching up with my housemates on the events I missed while I was away felt very, very good. It only lasted for 48 hours, however, as on Tuesday afternoon I was back in the car on my way to Albany to help with a CSJ Community retreat. Today is Thursday and although working and praying with the Sisters is a special privilege I am happy to be heading home again late this afternoon. This time I plan to stay awhile.
