The Art of Alchemy... Transformation and Rebirth

Our friend Katherine received sad news this week. A beloved nephew, who came into this world fighting for his life, died unexpectedly after a year of living in this world. Another young mother in our community buried her little baby boy this week after weeks of extraordinary efforts to help him live. Her husband was a state trooper killed in a routine road stop shortly after the baby’s birth. All over this sad old world mamas cry for their babies who die before they can grow up. My heart cannot imagine the depth and breath of this grief... the one who birthed life must stand and watch as life leaves.
In my journaling reading this morning, I found the following passage written by Reeve Lindbergh, daughter of Anne Morrow Lindberg:

When I lost my first son just before his second birthday, she who had also lost her first son (who was killed by a kidnapper) knew what to say, and she was one of the few people I was willing to listen to. She told me the truth first.... “This horror will fade. I can promise you that. The horror fades. The sadness, though, is different. The sadness remains.
That, too, was correct. The horror faded. I left it behind me in that terrible winter, but the sadness remained. Gradually, over the years, it became a member of my family, like our old dog, sleeping in the corners...
At the time of my son’s death, when I asked my mother what would happen to me as the mother of the child, how that part of me would continue, she said, “It doesn’t. You die, that’s all. That part of you dies with him. And, then, amazingly, you are reborn...”

Rebirth... Jesus told Nicodemus he needed to be reborn into the Kingdom of Heaven, a physical impossibility from Nicodemus’ point of view. And yet, how else can we become a grown up in God’s family without the rebirth that comes through suffering and loss? Until I lost someone of great value to me in a senseless death, knew the feelings of grief and anger and guilt that come with the amputation of a part of ourselves, I was so firmly attached to this world and my own limited God reality, I was unable to see and hear and feel God in the deep dark shadows of my soul. Now I know that in the darkest hours of grief and loss,in the dark caves where I weep and wail, God is there waiting for me. As I move through my fears and griefs, God waits and like a good midwife, assists my rebirth into the land of the living. Suffering can be transformed.
Alchemy... one dictionary definition is a mysterious or paradoxical process. It is in the suffering that comes with the loss of what we hold dear, the death of those we love, that we can find new life and release from the fear of dying. It is the letting go that lets us grasp again, hold fast to the new life that follows the old. Jesus said we must be willing to lose our lives, give up all we have, in order to save our lives. How I wish that did not include letting go of babies who have not yet had enough time to live! But it does. And it includes young mothers and fathers who die from illness and war, old mothers and fathers who die, loss of sight and mobility and hearing, all that diminishes and reduces us. We can live with the hurt, feel it deep in our bones, face it and bring it into the Light where it can be warmed and reborn... new life, not the same life, but a new life where griefs and sorrows have transformed us into the grown up children of God. Like God, in whose image we are being formed all the days of our lives, we can now feel the suffering of others and choose to wait with them in the darkness, silent witnesses to the new life that can come from death. O God, be with Katherine’s niece and Michaela as they wait for the hurt to heal. Be with all those who are struggling with grief and loss this day. Help us to wait in the darkness with them, holding them close, being the Body of Christ for them as they wait on resurrection and rebirth. Amen

The Art of Setting the Table...

It was the way of the world in my youth... the boys took shop and the girls took home ec. While the boys were learning the art of wood turning and tools, we were learning how to sew, cook and set the table. Mrs. Barton, our teacher, was the wife of my elementary school principal. She was a tall, slender black haired beauty who spoke softly with a slight lisp. I wanted to be just like her, graciousness personified.
Our first unit of study was sewing. We made aprons followed by a simple skirt. Based on our sewing skills, Mrs. Barton helped us choose a pattern for our final project. Mine was a sage green linen sheath with a crop top lined in a green, grey and soft yellow print. With her help, I made bound buttonholes, stay stitched facings and hemmed, ripped out seams and redid them until my dress was as close to perfect as it (and I) could be. I modeled that dress in a fashion show for the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) and at Mrs. Barton’s insistence, entered it in the county fair. I won a blue ribbon, my first and only blue ribbon.
Our next unit was entertaining and cooking. We began by studying the chemistry of baking, baking all sorts of breads, cakes, pies and cookies before we moved on to complete meals. The smells drifting down the long school halls drew students and teachers alike to “drop in” to see what we were cooking. With each cooking project, we set the table. Mrs. Barton taught us how to choose a tablecloth or place mats, two items not used daily at my house. We learned how to place silverware and how to use the various implements for eating... always start from the outside in... salad fork first followed by the dinner fork... where to place the water glass and the wine glass (Wine glass??? None of my friends families drank wine!)...how to fold a cloth napkin in several different ways... how to arrange flowers and other items for a table centerpiece. Our little file boxes began to be stuffed with recipes, pictures and ideas for gracious entertaining.
Out of all the classes I took in high school, this class has been one of the most useful in my life. In addition to the skills I acquired, I learned the fine art of preparation. Before you sew, you check your fabric to make sure it is squared. You might need to wash and iron it. Before you pin your pattern on, you check the pieces and select the ones you need for the particular item you are sewing. Before you launch out into a recipe, you round up the tools you need, you gather your ingredients, measure them out and then read the recipe again to make sure you know what to do and in what order to do it. And before you cook, you prepare the table, set the stage for the meal that you will serve. I learned that preparation is as important as the act itself and has its own kind of pleasure.
I’ve been thinking about taking these home ec skills and using them to help me prepare my heart to entertain God. God, I believe, needs me to set aside a special time for our gathering, needs me to be willing to entertain the presence of the Most High. I will set the table... gather my Bible and books, art supplies and flowers, a cup of tea and a quiet space. I will do the work of preparation... read and create, ponder and write. Then I will be still and wait for the Hospitable One to sit down at my table with me so that we might be as one in the Spirit. We will both leave this time together refreshed and ready to face our different worlds with a renewed spirit of gracious love. Remember, just like with the silverware, you start from the outside in. Do the work, choose the proper tools and ingredients, prepare, create, serve and wait. God will come.

simply trusting...

Simple... I used to lift my lip ever so slightly at people of simple faith. They seemed so out of touch with all the world of learning had to offer in understanding our sacred texts and the insights to be found in the world of textual criticism... not interested in the intelligent expansion of our Christian faith. These folks are not fundamentalists in the current fashion, judgmental and excluding of those who march to a different beat. They just use simple words, simple ideas for their simple faith. The language of their faith is love God, love your neighbor, be a good Samaritan when you can and leave the rest to God. These folks rarely march in support of causes or sign petitions but they show up to serve in soup kitchens, volunteer in hospitals, bring meals to those who are grieving or ill, sit with elderly neighbors, show up at their churches every week, year after year, being and doing the Word made flesh.
When Michael’s mother died, we found her Bible, marked and written in, full of little quotes cut out and placed carefully in the book she read and honored as her center point. None of the quotes came from the great minds and authors of her time. All of them reflected her desire to be simply a better Christian as she understood it. When I look through her Bible, I remember how she welcomed people of all kinds and colors into her home when it was dangerous to do so in Montgomery, Alabama. Her Saviour said love your neighbor, so she served wonderful delicious food she cooked at a Christmas party for black and white church and political leaders, in the 1960's and 1970's at a time when her husband was receiving death threats for his work with black Baptists in Alabama. Simple, really... hospitality in its saving grace extended by a woman who graduated high school, married and raised a family as a pastor’s wife, loved Southern Living recipes, and somehow transcended her time in history because of her desire to follow Jesus.
Simple... easily understood or done; plain and uncomplicated in form, nature or design; humble and unpretentious. I wonder if we try too hard, use our knowledge (necessary as it might be) to keep a distance between our heads, hearts and souls. If our head is full of precious knowledge, and it is of great value, then we can set ourselves up as judges of what really matters, what Jesus really meant in those red letter quotes. We can get so caught up in arguing and expounding and preaching that we miss the simplicity of the good news. Love God, love your neighbor as yourself, and live your life of faith plain and uncomplicated, humble and unpretentious, easily understood. Let your light so shine that all will know to whom you belong.
“Simply trusting everyday, trusting through a stormy way, even when my faith is small, trusting Jesus, that is all.” Not so simple after all...