Solidarity

Tags

caravan, christians, community, conscious work, consciousness, Jewish Community Center, Jews, judgment, Muslims, pray, refugees, solidarity, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, vigil, Wisdom Schools

I had two experiences yesterday that, upon reflection, help me to understand more deeply what it means to “walk in the shoes of another” – at least in some small way.

1. I took our house car to the local garage in the afternoon to have new tires installed. The mechanic told me that the process would take about an hour. As we needed a couple of items from the grocery store that I judged to be about a mile away, I decided to walk there in the interim. I had already thought about going for a walk while the process was completed but had estimated about half the time – and half the distance to the grocery store. It had been raining off and on but my windbreaker with a hood gave me sufficient protection and I had donned my best walking shoes in preparation. The road is a “country highway” – two-lanes, no sidewalks but with sufficient “shoulders” to keep me out of the way of the speeding cars and occasional trucks. The only issue (in addition to the minor splash of passing cars on a wet road) was the condition of those shoulders: broken pavement and in some places muddy patches of grass. The walk was, to coin a phrase, more than I had bargained for. I haven’t been walking much during the past year and my estimate of the distance was about a half a mile short, but soon after I began I decided to make this an exercise of what our Wisdom Schools call conscious work, uniting myself with the “caravan” of refugees walking through the countries of Central America. By doing that, the trek was not easier but my determination got me there and back in a way that was deeply meaningful. I considered the feet of those people and the terrain they tread each day. When carrying the rather small bundle of food on my return trip, I thought of parents carrying their children and all the possessions they could pack on their backs. When it began to rain again, I prayed for their safety and health and recognized how very privileged a life I lead. It took me just over an hour, including the stop at the store, until I wrote a check for the tires (knowing we had the money in the bank), slid into the car (knowing there was gas to power it) and drove home in warmth and ease in five minutes.

2. I felt drawn to the prayer vigil in our town last evening at the Jewish Community Center for the people of Pittsburgh. I knew it would be crowded but the gathering space is large and the parking lots quite expansive. When I arrived, it was already past sunset and in the gathering darkness I saw people streaming from every direction toward the venue. The parking lots were already full so I backtracked to the Catholic church a block away, grateful that their back lot still had a place for me – although far back from the road. As I joined the steady stream of walkers, I felt like we were going toward the Temple Mount in Jerusalem or some such holy place to beg for solace as the weight of all the hatred and senseless violence overtook me. I was one with the throng of pilgrims going to prayer in sorrow but solidarity. There must have been over 500 people there as all the seats were taken and there were as many of us standing close together in every nook and cranny of the building as there were sitting. For our rather small community, that was amazing. We were Jews and Christians, Muslims and most likely others who might call themselves “Nones” – professing no religion but standing in solidarity because there seemed no other place to be last night that would satisfy. The messages were of love, not hate, of community and willingness, of unity as a way to move through sadness and shock. I recognized very few of the people there but walking back to my car in the darkness, I felt the strength of communion and it was enough.

I am different because of these events of yesterday. There is a deeper, visceral consciousness in me of how everything is connected in this world. It is no longer as theoretical a concept as it was yesterday morning and if I continue to hold the world in this deeper way, I trust that it will continue to grow. It is as if what has just happened as I look out and up to see blue sky and a large white cloud over the mountain announcing sunrise is happening not just outside but within me as well. I now (I hope) will walk with the refugees and will add my voice to those who choose them as brothers and sisters. I will pray for my Jewish sisters and brothers and speak for gun control whenever an opportunity arises. More than anything I will try to love well and leave judgments out of my conversation, and I will pray for peace, the peace that only love can give.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Song of the Refugee

Tags

courage, deliverance, fear, grief, prayer, protect, refugees, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today we are again tricked by the weather to think it’s still winter. All across the midsection of the country there is a band of snow that I thought was going to miss us. The weather maps tracked it clipping the southeastern end of our state. This morning reconfirms my conviction that the only certain way to tell the weather is to look out a window or walk outside.

The snow will only be a minor inconvenience here at our house. We have winter coats and boots and even someone who comes to plow our driveway, should it be necessary. I am, however, aware this morning of the plight of refugees who do not have such luxuries, nor any basic necessities. When they leave their homes (often walking), they leave everything they have known – even the security of the concept of “home.”

The lectionary psalm for today, Psalm 16, is entitled A Song of the Refugee in an alternate translation. As I read the words I could see the streams of people, forced to leave their homes in strife-torn countries, their faces lined with grief or fear or both, looking toward safety in places foreign to them. There are no “moving vans” accompanying them and no fast food restaurants along their way. They have virtually nothing to sustain them – except their faith in God and a hope of safety. As I pray this psalm for these brothers and sisters of ours, I pray as well for the courage to stand with them to find a solution to the crises that create this shame in our world and to be part of the solution. Hear them speak, if you will, in the psalmist’s words and join them in their hope of deliverance.

Protect me, Lord, for I have fled, a refugee, to you and as I fled, I said, “Lord, you are my God; I have no other God but you…Let me offer up the cup of life for you to fill, and hold my life in yours as I hold you…I am here to listen to your counsel, Lord, your inner teachings of the heart…You take my hand in yours and hold me up…This body-mind, this spirit, all are yours, and each part finds a place to rest in you…From birth to death you are the path I walk upon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soup for Syria

Tags

Barbara Abdeni Massaad, Peace, prayers, refugees, Soup For Syria, soup supper, Syria, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

During the final siege of Aleppo, Syria, in December of 2016, I found myself more distressed than I can ever remember when watching the evening news. Seeing the faces of the children hiding in bombed out buildings as they waited for rescue was heartbreaking. I have rarely felt so helpless in the face of innocence and those faces stayed with me calling me to do something in addition to my prayers for peace.

Some weeks later I heard a report on the evening news about a woman who was working to quell the effects of the Aleppo disaster by making soup! Barbara Abdeni-Massaad, a photographer and writer of cookbooks was living in Beirut, Lebanon and had begun thinking about the Syrian refugees one frigid night in her apartment when she herself could not seem to get warm. By 2015 there were an estimated 1.1 million refugee families in Lebanon. “I couldn’t sleep, thinking about those refugee families in the Bekaa sleeping in their tents. How were they able to beat the winter cold? I couldn’t go on with my life and ignore theirs.” She began to visit the camps bringing soup and eventually, after engaging other soup makers to companion her and cooks from around the world to send her recipes, she wrote a cookbook called Soup for Syria: Recipes to Celebrate Our Shared Humanity, published by Interlink Books. One hundred percent of the proceeds from the books sold in the United States go to the United Nations High Commission on Refugees.

“That’s it!” I said to myself. “That’s what I can do!!” Having soup suppers has become one way in which people like me are able to contribute to the care of refugees in a small way. Barbara Abdeni-Massaad is quoted as saying to the refugees, “Had I been a barber, I would have cut your hair for free. I am not a barber but a photographer and a food writer so I will take photos and write about food to help your cause and send a message to the world.” And to us, she says, “Each kind gesture toward another in need is a step forward for humanity. Use what you know to help others.”

I’m not a barber, not a food writer or a photographer, but tonight under the auspices of The Sophia Center for Spirituality, I will take photos and serve soup to anyone who stops in at the First Congregational Church in Binghamton, New York. I and my co-workers will sell the book Soup for Syria: Recipes to Celebrate Our Shared Humanity and speak of the genesis of this project, hoping to generate interest for soup-making and similar gatherings. And I will finally feel that I have taken that tiny first step that is possible for me toward alleviating suffering in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

Streaming Thoughts

Tags

Alleluia, Christian, daffodils, displacement, faith, Happy Easter, Holy Week, Palm Sunday, refugees, resurrection, Risen Christ, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, violence

So here I am, back as promised, to wish you a Happy Easter. It’s a little late in the day but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to say that throughout the past week I was creating blog posts in my mind that, unfortunately, only made it a couple of times to print. Now we are in a different season altogether. It’s a sunny 65 degrees (F) here in upstate New York and the daffodils have come bursting to flower – very different from the cloudy, cold touring weather of two days ago. Holy Week is over, for which most people are grateful. It’s hard to think of all that violence and pain, after all. Much nicer to sing “Alleluia!” and rejoice in the Risen Christ.

On Thursday I was struck by two competing images that had a significant effect on my reflection about what was going on in the life of Jesus and friends as it related to the here and now. I was at a park known for its vast expanse of spring flowers – acres and acres of color in different configurations with hundreds – maybe thousands – of people exclaiming about the beauty and creativity of what was before them. Everyone was so uplifted; I thought of the crowds on Palm Sunday as Jesus entered Jerusalem to their shouts of praise. As I was leaving, the throng pouring through the gates made me think of a stream of refugees as I could hear many languages and see a diversity of  faces, all beautiful faces, moving toward an exit – toward home (?).

It would be a stretch to try to draw a direct line from one of those images to the other. I guess my thoughts were all background to the reality that life – although a series of moments – is also a wholeness where wild rejoicing and violence sometimes intertwine and where situations can change abruptly, leaving us to look for solutions which are sometimes very hard to find – or even impossible.

Even as we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ, we know that there are hordes of people suffering from violence, being forced from their homelands and refused, in some cases, a safe place of refuge. How are we to reconcile this reality with the core of Christian faith? How can we rise when our brothers and sisters are still held down?

I remember a poem from long ago that began: Easter people everywhere, shining Jesus love…” That seems the only answer to my question right now. I need to be listening for what I can do to alleviate the pain of displacement that is so vast in our world. And while I’m listening, I need to be radiating love to all those who need to know that resurrection is possible – not in a simplistic way (There are no simplistic soluntions in this complex world) but in the only way we can proceed: in hope and love and trust and willingness. And in solidarity – never separating ourselves from those who need us and count on us to transmit our reasons for hope to them.

I wonder what I would have written if I had started on Thursday and been successful at posting then – and on Friday and yesterday. Would today’s words have wiped away the recognitions that appear above? Is it ever that way for us? Can we ever let go of the reality of yesterday in order to let in today? But how do we hold both? Ah, therein lies the rub…and it will take more than today to settle on a response. Maybe that is a task for the Fifty Days of Easter…

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cry of the Poor

Tags

Come O God, deep wellspring of love, homeless, joy, poor, psalm 34, refugees, rescue us O God, the Lord hears the cry of the poor, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unemployed, weather disasters

The Psalm response for today’s Liturgy of the Word sings out from Psalm 34: “The Lord hears the cry of the poor…” Upon hearing that, I am reminded of all the materially poor in the world and refugees who have nothing but what they can carry, those who may now have the safety of resettlement but are still bereft of any familiarity with place or persons with whom they had shared life. I think of those who have recently been victim of weather disasters in my own country who have suffered the loss of home and, sometimes, of family. I think of the homeless and those who are unemployed or under-employed. And then I think of the mentally and spiritually poor, those who struggle to find meaning in life. It is for all these people and more that today I pray this psalm of hope with trust in a God who will come to heal all ills, a God who hears the call: Come, O God, and do not delay!

My soul fills up and overflows with joy; all humble-hearted ones know this, they too are glad. O you who hear and know this inner state of joy, praise God with me, join strength to strength, your praise with mine…And even in the midst of troubles sore, look long and never be ashamed. See, it is God who hears and saves your life. Know too that heaven surrounds you with angelic forms, those messengers sent out by God to guard and guide you through the many storms of life…Indeed God hears the voice of all who cry in pain, drawing near to them with tender loving care. God comes so close to those who live with brokenness, to heal those with the deepest inner wounds. God is the healer of our shattered hearts. Yes, it is true, the troubles that plague humanity are vast and deep. But it is God who frees us from them all…So rescue us, O God, from all our ravaged ways, to live unending in the deep wellspring of your love. (Ps. 34: 2-3, 6-7, 17-19, 23)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cosmic Dance

Tags

conscious work, glory, healing, hungry, Kanuga, poor, Psalm 95, refugees, sharing, synergy, terror victims, The Elm Dance, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I can’t be sure yet but I think the rain has stopped. Yesterday it seemed as if we were destined to begin building an ark for 250 people and however many animals came swimming down the paths here at Kanuga. But it was a day when it seemed no one was bothered by the rain. We were buoyed up by the synergy of our sharing, especially as we came together in a magical event that replaced our “conscious work” period of cleaning up the grounds of leaves and sticks and other remnants of autumn.

We gathered in the gym, first in our “small groups” of 20 people each and then in 3 concentric circles to learn and then dance The Elm Dance for the healing of the world. All nervousness about “doing it right” vanished quickly in the first go-round when the groups realized how simple the steps were and how easy it was to stay together as they moved. Especially beautiful were the moments of moving toward the center of the circle where joined hands let go into the sky, waving like the branches of beautiful trees and coming back together in the movement out again to continue circling. Later sharing provided ample evidence of connecting with the plight of refugees and victims of terror, the poor and hungry of the world and the ravaged places of Earth herself in ways that were deep and meaningful.

The rain continued to accompany us through the day and night where strains of our closing chant for the evening resonated everywhere as witness that every cell of this body sings, “Glory!” I have no doubt that the best advice any of the participants here could give for this new day comes from the gospel verse for this morning: If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your hearts. (Ps. 95:8)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pray Always

Tags

attacks, belief, faith, France, God, Paris, pray always, refugees, terror, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

This morning I opened the website where I find the daily readings (www.usccb.org) with a heavy heart, wondering if I could say anything of worth after last night’s deadly ISIS attack in Paris. The first line of the gospel said this: Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. (LK 18:1).

There can be no better answer and it calls me to remember constantly our brothers and sisters, not only in Paris, but all over the world where refugees are fleeing for their lives, people are mourning their loved ones killed in terrorist attacks and war continues to be waged in so many quarters. I am one of the lucky ones – surrounded this week by people whose purpose of prayer and deepening in God is palpable, so I invite all who read this to join us in gathering the light and sending it out to all those in need, believing that God is faithful and that love can, indeed, conquer all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Household of God

Tags

Ephesus, gift, global community, greater consciousness, listen, Pope Francis, psalm 19, refugees, Richard Rohr, St. Paul, the household of God, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

It must’ve been an amazing experience to hear the impassioned messages of St. Paul. This morning I can only imagine the gathering in Ephesus catching fire when he proclaims to them that they are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God! (EPH 2:19-22) When he adds the claim that – in Christ Jesus – they are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit, I wonder how many in the crowd were convinced right away, which ones had to ponder and discuss the message and who turned away finding it all too difficult to believe. Once again I am thrown back to images of the crowds lining the streets in our country (or anywhere) to get a glimpse of Pope Francis. There is something palpable about the energy of an event like that and about the outpouring of love that accompanies the one bringing the message.

What does it mean to us today to be “members of the household of God?” Clearly we are called to a greater consciousness, as Richard Rohr says, that “everything belongs” and that we have responsibility in the global community. The psalmist reminds us today of the reach of that responsibility when proclaiming in Psalm 19 that “the heavens proclaim the glory of God and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork…” Just as we are to hear the words of our brothers and sisters in need (perhaps especially the hordes of refugees in Eastern Europe at this moment), we need to be attentive to the groanings of Earth, working to correct our misuse of her resources. And we can’t depend on daily reminders of our place in this household. It’s time for us to act as mature members, listening to the inner promptings of love and recognition, caring for this dwelling place of God that has been given to us as gift.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sorrowful Mother

Tags

children of my heart, Mary Mother of God, persecution, refugees, Seven Sorrows of Mary, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There are many days in the liturgical calendar on which Christians celebrate Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Today, the memorial of the Seven Sorrows of Mary does not seem fit for “celebration” as it commemorates the most difficult moments in Mary’s life as a mother because of the sufferings of Jesus. Never having birthed a child, I can only imagine the pain of mothers whose children have lived difficult lives in one way or another. I do count at least five “children of my heart” – all of whom are now middle-aged and one of whom (the eldest) died this year at age 58. I have celebrated and mourned events in their lives and now feel a deeper kinship with Michael’s mother whose pain of loss will likely remain until her own death.

For those interested in reflecting on these moments of Mary’s life, the Church lists the following: 1. The Prophecy of Simeon (when Mary and Joseph presented Jesus in the temple), 2. The Flight into Egypt, 3. The Loss of the Child Jesus when he was 12 years old, 4. The Meeting of Jesus and Mary on the Way of the Cross, 5. The Crucifixion, 6. Jesus’ Body Struck by a Lance as he was taken down from the cross, 7. The Burial of Jesus.

For the rest, today is a day to pray for mothers, perhaps especially those refugees who are fleeing persecution or war, trying to keep their children safe in this moment of upheaval, desiring to find a home where they can give their children a better, happier life. And, of course, for those of us who have been cared for and loved into enduring life by mothers, many of whom now abide with us in spirit, our prayer is one of gratitude.

Neighbors

Tags

abuse, Colombia, crises, mistreatment, refugees, slaves, St. Peter Claver, Syria, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, West Africa, Who is my neighbor

I didn’t get to see much world news during the past five days; the committee work in which I was engaged – as well as the 3-hour time difference 3,000 miles from home – was all-consuming of my time. In catching up last night upon my return home, my happiest moment was seeing all the Syrian and other refugees who had finally been able to board trains and arrive in Germany and to hear the plans of some European countries to welcome large numbers in the future. While only preliminary, this report offers hope to those in dire need.

Although a totally different situation (abhorrent to us now) in a very different time (the 1600s), the story of Peter Claver, the saint remembered today, struck a similar chord in me. It was not the response of countries to a dire need but only one missionary in what is today the South American country of Colombia who ministered to hundreds of slaves imported from West Africa for over 40 years. The conditions of their transit sounded similar as about one-third of the people died in transit, but these people continued to be treated as sub-human and Peter Claver became “the apostle of Cartagena” caring for their needs with food and medicines as well as assurance of their human dignity and God’s love. He also preached this message to all classes of society and “practiced what he preached” by lodging in slave quarters rather than accepting the hospitality of plantation owners. Peter Claver’s belief was concretized in his often repeated statement about missionary work that we must speak to them with our hands before we try to speak to them with our lips.

Today, as the world faces numerous crises of mistreatment and abuse of the poorest and rejected in societies around the world, we would be wise to remember the example of Peter Claver and reflect on a personal response to the perennial question: Who is my neighbor?