Friends,

Last Wednesday evening I told a story in vespers that I would like to share again. Its title is “Old Joe and the Carpenter” and I first read it in Doorways to the Soul: 52 Wisdom Tales From Around the World by Elisa Davy Pearman. It is a traditional American tale and inspired by Ms. Pearman’s written version I tell it to you in my own words.

Old Joe had lived on his farm all his life. And his father before him and his father before him. And the father before had staked the claim for the land as pioneer back in early days. It was a beautiful piece of land in rolling hills with good pastureland and plenty of room for crops. Joe had married the love of his life and raised his children on the farm. Now his wife was passed on and the children moved to the city. His neighbor across the way who had always been his best friend was his closest companion now. And his wife had also passed and his children gone. They kept each other company, sharing a meal now and then, smoking a pipe, telling stories. 

But one fateful day, they fell out! It seems a calf was found on the neighbor’s land away from a herd and its mom. The neighbor claimed it was his. Joe was fit to be tied! “Don’t you see that the calf has all the markings of my best milk cow! It’s mine!” The fought and argued till neither had much breath left and then to avoid hitting one another, they stomped off! Each to his own house, resolving never to speak to the other again!
            
About two weeks later, one a Saturday morning, Joe had a knock at his door. Early in the morning. Muttering to himself, he went to answer it. “Maybe that old coot has come to his senses and is bringing my calf back!” But when he opened the door there stood a young man with a toolbox at his feet and a knapsack over his shoulder. He had curly hair, a fresh, open face and bright, keen and kindly eyes. He introduced himself as a traveling carpenter and asked Old Joe if he had any work that he might do for him. Joe said, “I certainly do! Follow me!” And he led the young carpenter across the farmyard and into the first pasture and pointed down the hill. 

“Do you see that creek there?” The young man nodded yes. “Well, it weren’t there a week ago! My gol-darned neighbor dug a trench from the pond up there in the hill over-looking both of our farms. Out there all day with his tractor and then he flooded it. The creek runs right along our property line. We used to go back and forth all the time but then he decided that a stray calf he found that was obviously mine – same markings as my best milk cow – belonged to him. And we had words and I never want to speak to that lying son of a gun again! He dug the creek bed to separate our land….now I want you to build me a fence all along the creek so that I don’t have to see it or his land or him ever again. There is lumber and posts and nails, all you might need, in the barn. Can you do it?” 

The young carpenter agreed and set to work carrying all the supplies he would need from the barn down to Joe’s side of the creek bed. Joe thanked him and then hitched his team to his wagon and went into town for supplies, just as he did every Saturday. The carpenter worked all day, not even stopping for lunch, measuring and sawing and hammering. As the sun began to set, he finished up and began to clean up and gather his tools, put away the lumber scraps in the barn. And Joe returned from town. He drove into the farmyard with his wagon full of supplies. As he jumped down to unhitch the horses, he looked for the young carpenter to see how he had progressed with the fence. 

What did he see? Instead of a fence there was a beautiful little footbridge going across the creek. And coming across the bridge was his neighbor. Joe hurried down to meet him. The neighbor said, “Joe, I’m bringing your calf home. I’m so sorry! Your friendship is more important that any calf…in fact, it’s the most important thing to me! Thank you for building this bridge.” Joe said, ”Aww…keep that calf! I don’t need it. Your friendship is the most important thing in the world to me! And as for the bridge…well, it was this young fella’s idea.” Joe kind of hung his head and said,” I told him build a fence.” His mouth crooked up at the corner in a grin and he began to laugh! And so did his neighbor. They laughed till tears were funning down their faces and they were holding their sides. 

The young carpenter laughed with them as he shouldered his knapsack and picked up his toolbox. Old Joe pulled the man’s pay out of his pocket and handed it to him. Then said, “Look here, young man, you do great work! Why don’t you stay around these parts? I’m sure we could help you get all the work you need?” The carpenter said, “Well, I thank you kindly. But I have to be on my way. I have other bridges to build.” And with that he shook the hands of Old Joe and his neighbor and headed toward the road whistling a joyful tune. 

And that’s the story of Old Joe and the Carpenter.
 
Now I invite you to prayerfully consider these questions:

• Do I have situations in my life that need a bridge instead of a fence? 
• What resources do I need to build that bridge? Teachers, companions, friends, "tools", prayers, ideas?
• Where am I most needed as a bridge builder - inside myself, in my family, community, school, the world?       

Blessings on the bridge building journey,

P.S. For those of you who resonated with my sermon from Old Town, “First or Last?” check out Brene Brown’s “Unlocking Us” podcast interview with Sonya Renee Taylor, “My Body is Not an Apology.” Great food for thought and action in light of our work as laborers in God’s circular realm of justice and love. No firsts or lasts, just all beloveds!

Six months is a long time to have a church building closed. I was imagining what it would be like if our physical home had been closed because of a fire or flood or some other disaster. I suspect it would be far more difficult for us to have jumped onto the livestream band wagon if none of the other churches in Fort Collins were having to take similar measures. But we find ourselves still feeling as though we are living in exile from the people and the structural home we love.

I keep thinking about Psalm 137, a lament that speaks of an exiled people who long for their homeland:

By the rivers of Babylon --
there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked
for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How could we sing the LORD's song in a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

Lament is a perfectly acceptable form of prayer at this time in our common life. I suspect that many of us are growing tired of livestreamed worship, and I can tell you that I am really weary of trying to connect over the internet with the hundreds of people whom I suspect are out there, but whose reactions and responses I cannot see. I am tired of the hollow feeling of singing hymns with only four people singing in the sanctuary. It seems as if we have “hung up our harps” and God only knows when we will be back together and able to sing robustly “one of the songs of Zion” with a choir and a congregation. And like anger, lament is okay...but it’s a lousy place to get stuck.

We have to move forward from that place of feeling crummy about the state of our lives and recenter ourselves. The wisdom of the Psalms again comes to our aid, providing a pivot (ugh...I’m tired of that word!) moving us from imploring God to doing what we can do by being faithful. Psalm 13 is short and to the point:

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my
heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O LORD my God!
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death, and my
enemy will say, "I have prevailed"; my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.
[pivot] But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Each of us has something to be grateful for...some bounty that God has entrusted to our care. Even if it something as elemental as waking up this morning, we can give thanks. I find it difficult to be grateful and grumpy at the same time, and since we have a choice about our own outlook, I make an attempt to live in gratitude. I’m trying to pivot into the love and goodness of God, rather than to get stuck in the mire of lament and self-pity. Singing helps...even if it’s alone in the shower.

Isaac Watts, a Congregational minister in London in the 18th century, usedPsalm 90 as the basis for his hymn “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” and for those of us who feel as if we are in exile — who miss our home — it contains these lines about our true home, which never closes down: “Still be our God while troubles last, and our eternal home.” Don’t be afraid to call on God directly in these uncertain, stressful times. We all need to allow ourselves and one another a bit of grace to feel our lament, and we also need to acknowledge that this pandemic is not going to last forever, and there will come a day when we can return to our fellow members and our church building.

Keep the faith!

The Calling & Caring web page Carla references is here.

For me, 2020 started out almost impossibly perfectly: I rang in the new year in Rome, watching fireworks over the Coliseum and eating the twelve grapes that Italian tradition states are supposed to bring good luck for the year ahead. Maybe I accidentally forgot a grape, or perhaps I misunderstood the old man explaining the tradition to me, but “lucky” isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when I think of the way this year has progressed since those first few perfect moments.

I was supposed to spend the entirety of the 2019-2020 school year in Spain on a Fulbright scholarship, teaching middle and high school students who were absolutely overflowing with energy, enthusiasm, curiosity, and more than a little bit of sass. I treasured every single day that I got to walk into school and engage in the perfect combination of insightful conversation and chaotic shenanigans that can only happen when you’re working with youth. When I was forced to evacuate Spain in March as COVID-19 hit the country, it felt like I was leaving a huge piece of myself behind. In an instant, the deep conversations, the one-on-one moments when students would let their guard down and truly open up, and the riotous laughter when low-stakes games somehow became life-or-death for the students were replaced with long stretches of emptiness and the lingering question, “Now what?”

However, if there’s one thing that I’ve found to be true in my 23 years on this earth, it’s that the universe seems to have a funny habit of working itself out in the most unexpected ways. Taking on the role of Plymouth’s Interim Director of Christian Formation for Youth has in many ways been the answer to an unspoken prayer: a prayer for connection, for growth, for helping others to navigate these unprecedented times and for allowing them to help me as well. As Plymouth’s youth face a year unlike any other, I feel so blessed to be in a position to help provide a sense of community and grounding in the midst of so much uncertainty. During my own middle and high school years, youth group at Plymouth was always a welcome source of laughter, conversation, and connection, and I hope that it can continue to be an oasis for our youth in this exceptionally strange time.

This year may not have been exactly what I was expecting, but it has turned out to be more of a blessing that I ever could have imagined. Maybe I did eat those grapes correctly after all.

Alli

Please hear I'm singing a variant of "I Hope I Get It" from A Chorus Line. In that musical, all of the actors desperately needed a job and were singing and dancing their hearts out. I, however, was assumed to be retired and was minding my own business when Jane Anne called. Would I be the interim Children’s Minister?

My husband raised his eyebrows. We are still settling into retirement and we know we love to hike on weekdays when trails, and parking lots, are not so crowded. What would a return to work for me look like?

But I was CALLED. if you hang around church much, you know being “called” has an additional meaning besides picking up a phone.

Children’s Christian education is what i have done for a long time. And one of my earliest memories is singing “Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam.” Yeah, that one hasn’t been on any charts for a long time; but it may have been my first call.

I’ve been a Director of Children’s Ministries for over 12 years in Texas and 4 years in Colorado. I was the interim at Plymouth for 9 months before Mandy arrived. I’ve taught at Plymouth and served on Christian Formation. Some of you might recognize me as the woman helping dress the kids for children’s Christmas Eve service.

So assuming I get get around the technological hurdles -- and for me they look like Long’s Peak -- why would I want this job?

I feel like there are so many possibilities for faith formation in the home that were not there when our children were small. My dad died when our son was five, and the only thing out there was The Fall of Freddie the Leaf. That left both of us cold, and was pretty short on theology. I’d like to act as a sieve for all the faith forming materials that are available now. Each month I can share a few, praying that I can help share the faith in the right size bits for you to feed your family at the best time.
Occasionally I’d like to do a Children’s Moment in worship.

Church is on a slippery slope. Will it survive? Let’s work together to make it so.

Tricia

Dear Plymouth,

I’m back! Catching up on email, helping two new staff members get up to speed, trying to remember the deadlines for getting in staff reflections, bulletins, Overview announcements, etc. And connecting with you one by one through email, phone, rare chance encounters in the office. Leading worship yesterday through our yearly practice of Instant Sermons was great fun and I loved hearing the questions. They always help me feel so much closer to you.

As I left in July, I wrote to you that I hoped to encounter the Holy moment by moment even in the midst of the nitty gritty – “taking out the trash, picking up puppy poop, doing the dishes, etc.” I thought of that hope several times and wondered, “Am I accomplishing my mission? Am I letting go and living in the moment?” Isn’t it amazing that even when we set out to rest, to just be, we find it so hard to set down our accomplishment mindset? The voices in our heads that say, “What did you do today? Did you move any farther in the building of your life? Did you get better at what you want to accomplish?” are tyrannical! I did have moments of “being”, in play, in reading, in laughing with Hal and friends, in three wonderful trail rides at Ring Lake Ranch. I did not have quite as many quiet meditation moments due to an active puppy. These will return, in time.

Anne Lamott, a wonderfully funny, poignant and deeply thoughtful writer, has a book titled, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers. I have yet to read this book, but the title is right on. (And having read other Lamott books I can highly recommend her writing.) “Help,” “thanks,” “wow” are three ways to stay in the moment in life and in prayer. I know I had these moments on sabbatical. “Help” me be patient with this puppy, with myself, with our government! “Thanks” for the wonder of growing my own tomatoes and eggplant, arugula and pumpkins in our backyard, for the antics of puppies that make me laugh, for a week in a beautiful place where someone else cooked delicious food and I reconnected with old friends! “Wow, Holy One!” Creation is astoundingly and inexpressibly beautiful! “Wow” - that sky and those clouds and those multi-colored cliffs that surrounded me as I road horseback through the wilds of the Wyoming’s Wind River basin. “Wow!” as I gazed at 1500 year old petroglyphs made from the prayer images of indigenous people who lived on this same land that was welcoming me with open arms as it had welcomed them.

So as I return to ministry with you in this strange fall of 2020, I say, Help and Thanks and Wow! “Help” us learn more together, and learn more deeply, what it means to be the people of God in the midst of pandemic, protest and political elections! “Thanks” for the beloved community of Plymouth as we learn to connect in new ways in the midst of social distancing! “Wow, Holy One!” You are Love and Love is with us always! In times of darkness and in times of light. You accompany us moment by moment. Even when we are not watching.

Blessings to you my fellow travelers as we journey together,

Sometimes I think that the Commandment we Americans break with the greatest frequency is observing the sabbath. Honestly, do you set aside a day for rest, regeneration, and focus on your relationship with God? I don’t imagine that more than a partial handful of us at Plymouth actually take a sabbath day each week. Sabbath, of course, is Saturday (hence “Sabado” in Spanish and “sabato” in Italian), and our Jewish siblings observe it thus. Most Christians opt for “The Lord’s Day,” the day of Jesus’ resurrection, as our holy day. Going back as far as the Didache in the 2nd century, believers were to "Gather together each Sunday, break bread and give thanks, first confessing your sins, that your sacrifice may be pure." 

But sabbath is not just about worship; it also concerns a rhythm for the week. “Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work.” (Exodus 20.8) 

Do you refrain from your professional work, volunteer work, household chores, errands, and so forth on the sabbath, even if you observe it on Sunday? To be sure, that is still the case for schismatic Presbyterians (the “Wee Frees”) in the Hebrides of Scotland, and our Puritan and Pilgrim ancestors in the Congregational tradition also were strict in their observance of sabbath each week. (We still had “blue laws” in Connecticut when I was growing up.) Isn’t it strange that as we developed a strong “Protestant work ethic,” we seem to have let go of sabbath-keeping?

I’ve just returned from a week of retreat at Ring Lake Ranch, an ecumenical study center in Wyoming, which has deep associations with Plymouth its members, especially the Petersen-Myerses, the Hoyers, the Schulzes, the Dilles, and others. I was meant to be doing a course with Diana Butler Bass this summer, but all presentations were cancelled due to the coronavirus, but they kept the Ranch open at 50% guest capacity for retreat time. I am really grateful that Plymouth allows for sabbatical (and for having Jane Anne at Ring Lake for part of hers) as well as continuing education time for its pastors. Ring Lake Ranch’s motto is “Renewal in sacred wilderness,” which is spot-on. Both Jane Anne and I had a time of renewal…as did Mark Lee, who was taking a break from his new congregation in South Dakota! I encourage you to try Ring Lake Ranch next summer for some great seminar presenters. (Go to ringlake.org for more info.)

The past six months of pandemic have been taxing for all of us…learning to adapt to new ways of worship and being church, working and educating kids from home, resisting the urge to hug or even shake hands with our friends. And it has taken a toll on many of us: on our social, psychological, and spiritual lives. (Racial crises and desperate presidential politics don’t help our sense of well-being, either.) 

So, how do we find resilience in the midst of this marathon that we hoped would end with the first sprint? Sabbath may be the part of the answer. If you can find a way to carve out and set apart a time each week or get away for a few nights of camping or a trip to the mountains, I endorse that as a pastoral recommendation. Thomas Keating used to describe prayer time as “a hot date with God,” and I commend to you some time of contemplative restoration of your soul, whether in the wilderness or in your backyard.

May you be blessed by the discovery of inner strength and faith this week.

Shabbat shalom!

As we plan and offer worship through these pandemic times I have been needled with the question: what can a contemporary Christian worship service be like? We certainly know it can be virtual. At once removed but uniquely intimate. Perhaps evidenced by watching on Sunday mornings in your own home, with your own coffee mug, and in your favorite leisurely nightwear! Personally, my view on this topic has evolved incredibly over the past ten years and particularly in my tenure here with you. Traditional worship is the backbone worship format in our community but there is so much more.

The Vespers service has been a particular blessing during this pandemic. Based on the ancient office of the canonical hours, this brief 30 minute prayerful service is intended to be a source of rejuvenation and healing as the day draws to a close. A service of comfort and hope. A reminder of the eternal Light in the darkness. Chants or hymns are sung interspersed with prayers, poems, and scripture. Musically, one can expect a broad range of contemplative styles drawing from the Celtic, Ionian, Anglican, and Taizé traditions with touches of jazz, folk, and minimalist influences. Those who have attended the 6:00 p.m. services will often find many similarities, including the regular use of the sung "Prayer of Jesus" by John Philip Newell.

Another similarity with the 6:00 p.m. service is the free and improvisatory nature of the music-making. I will often say to the musicians who participate that we never play the same thing twice! I have yet to do so with the "Prayer of Jesus."

We also explore the connections between sacred and supposed secular music by recognizing the intersecting spiritual dimensions. You will have noticed we occasionally have a "6:00 p.m. @10:00 a.m." service which has featured music by The Beatles, David Bowie, even Dave Brubeck. The structured appeal and respect for history of traditional worship is beautiful. The music and ritual honed over the centuries is a treasure to the church at large. But it is a blessing that at Plymouth we have the freedom to create new traditions with just as much intention: all for the glory of God.

A revelation to me was in my preparations for this week's 7:00 p.m. Vespers service on August 5. I knew I wanted to compose a chant or two. Arrangement and reharmonization is a weekly task for this service just as it was for the 6:00 p.m. But I wanted to do something different....and then the floodgates opened. I did not so much compose all four chants but rather notated what was flooding into my mind. The results were satisfying and surprising in their insistence to come to life. And I thought how wonderful to be so inspired and contribute to a service at Plymouth in this way. And to have the freedom to do so. The process and experience was no different than composing for any band I was in back in the day.

Diversity at Plymouth comes in many forms. It is the one aspect of being here that continually enriches. From my corner of worship life, it is a blessing to be a part of. I invite you to take part in Vespers, perhaps this week, and immerse yourself in Plymouth's vital worship life. Even during a pandemic we can be connected, if not in person, in spirit.        

Rev. Carla introduces this week's Compassion Camp Scripture, Mark 12:28-31.

Dear Plymouth,

I am writing this reflection as I head into my short sabbatical time (July 20 – August 22). I want to thank you for affording your called ministerial staff with this kind of time away to be renewed for ministry! It is a great blessing.

Many of you have asked, “Where are you going? What are you going to do?” Well, current circumstances prevent me going much of anywhere. I am very fortunate that we have a lovely backyard and garden with a new sitting area under our apple trees and a new hammock. This is where I will go! And what will I do? I will spend as much time as possible in being rather than doing.

What is being time? I don’t know about you, but my mind starts scheduling my day the minute my feet hit the floor each morning. “Where is my list of work tasks? What needs to be done to keep our household running, laundry, cleaning, cooking? Where is the new puppy? What does she need to learn today?” You know your own drill. And I try to incorporate a few minutes…maybe even 20… of being time into my morning routine for prayer each day. I try to remember to “pray without ceasing” throughout the day as I encounter the conundrums and joys of work and home and just life. There are many distractions, as you know! Now it’s time to go deeper to develop new habits.

The word and concept of “sabbatical” comes from “sabbath,” a day that you keep as “holy,” mindful of the Holy One, God. During these weeks away I will endeavor (and pray) to wake up with the “Holy” on my mind as my feet hit the floor. Upon waking I hope to be mindful of the sacredness of taking the puppy out first thing, the sacredness of coffee, of the birds at the feeder, of the sun and the clouds, of the news, of the dreams I remember, of the reading and journaling during the day. As I write, I am not imagining a choir singing “Ahhhh” somewhere as background music to an idyllic video of my daily routine. I am imagining what it is like to live the nitty gritty of each day dedicated to and in relationship with God, even the taking out of trash and compost, the dusting, the pick-up of puppy poop, the heartbreak of our current times.

A sabbatical, a sabbath time, is the time to practice this. I try to practice it one day a week or more likely a half day a week when I am working. It often gets interrupted with my distractions. I am hoping that practicing sabbath being more mindfully for this set period of time will further embed it in the habits of my mind, heart and soul so that when I return to ministry in late August there will be new focus and sustenance for pastoral care and leadership. That as I resume the list of ministerial tasks, I will bring with me the habit of the practice of being mindfully connected to the Holy no matter what I am doing. It will always be a practice never a “perfect.“

I invite you to set aside sabbath time in your life. Discover what it is for you to “remember the Sabbath day and treat it as holy.” The root of the English word “holy” that translates the Hebrew word for “sacred” meant “whole.” What practice do you need to invite you into sacred wholeness in relationship with the Holy One?

Many Blessings! Until August 23rd…

I decided to take a different tack for this week’s Staff Reflection. I hope you’ll enjoy seeing summer in full bloom at Plymouth, with a journey through our Memorial Garden, Labyrinth, back yard…and the nearly-completed new apartment building next door. We look forward to the day when we’ll all be back together in person.

See you Wednesday evening at 7:00 for Midweek Vespers from Plymouth.

Thanks and peace,
Hal

P.S. Download your worship bulletin for Vespers here.

Our summer intergenerational interterm begins Monday, July 13, and lasts five weeks. "Intergenerational" means it involves everyone with many different ways to engage. Compassion Camp is all-virtual and, except for Zoom for 7, can be completed at your own pace. Sign up for Zoom for 7 to participate in a small group discussion of the theme/Bible story of the week.

We invite you to watch throughout the week as our Bible stories unfold through art, yoga, music and worship.

Each week we will focus on a different way to experience compassion:

The week will start with a Facebook Live video 1pm Monday to introduce that week’s theme and music. On the website you will then be able to find videos teaching the Bible Story, Create & Play, Movement/Yoga, and Compassion in Action sections. These videos will also be emailed out on Tuesday. At 1pm Thursday there will be a Facebook Live video to review the week and to share your pictures and stories from Compassion Camp. Lastly, Sunday Worship services will focus on our weekly Bible story.

If you would prefer to have less screen time with Compassion Camp, you can download the full Family Pack from our website. The Family Pack has the written instructions for each of the weekly activities, even yoga! Families with Elementary aged kiddos will also be getting a packet of coloring pages and song sheets via snail mail.

You can find all the information about Compassion Camp on our website. Downloadable materials are available here.*

Be loved * Be kind * Be you

Carla & Mandy

*Email formation @plymouthucc.org for the password.

Compassion Camp is our virtual Summer Intergenerational Interterm being launched July 13. There are activities for kids, teens, families and adults. Look for information in the July Placard, coming soon, and of course at plymothucc.org/compassion.

Zoom for 7 is the adult-focused segment of Compassion Camp, although all activities are for folks of all ages. Zoom for 7 (the "seven" refers to the number of households) is a small discussion group that meets weekly for five weeks to discuss the topic of the week. Each week, groups will be given the theme for the week, the Bible story, and a list of questions to discuss.

Sign-ups open on Friday, July 3! Watch your email! There are a limited number of Zoom for 7 discussion groups and, of course, space in each one is limited. Here are the days and times for the groups:

• Mondays at 7:00 p.m. (July 13, 20, 27. Aug. 3, 10)
• Tuesdays at 10:00 a.m. (July 14, 21, 28.  Aug. 4, 11)
• Wednesdays at 1:00 p.m. (July 15, 22, 29. Aug. 5, 12)
• Wednesday at 7:00 p.m. (July 15, 22, 29. Aug. 5, 12)

We ask that you select the day/time that works best for you and stay with this group for the entire five weeks. Questions? Email me.

Carla

"How do we live a life worthwhile of our breath?"
- Ocean Vuong, poet, novelist, professor

This morning as I walked in our beautiful Colorado sunshine, I listened to Vietnamese American poet and novelist, Ocean Vuong, as he was interviewed by Krista Tippet on her podcast, On Being. I was not familiar with him or with his work before today. He is a young man of amazing intellect and insight, creativity and sensitivity. The podcast is definitely worth a listen! Such a rich conversation about how language makes our lives, sets the tone and parameters for our values, creates our world. Recorded this past March just before the pandemic shut-down, you would think Vuong and Tippet were conversing just yesterday in the midst of the two pandemics we are living with now, Covid-19 and the much older, Covid-1619, or the systemic racism our country has had since its beginning. 
 
Vuong reflected on his Buddhist practice of “death meditation,” a practice in which one meditates on the impermanence of life, the inevitability of death and our fear of dying. Vuong spoke of the vitality this meditation practice brings to his life and to his creativity. It brings him to the question, “How do we live a life worthwhile of our breath?” 
 
A life worthwhile of our breath…this phrase can take us so many places. To Genesis 1 where the world was created as the Spirit of God “breathed” upon the waters of the deep bringing forth life. To the automatic breathing that keeps us alive without our thinking consciously about it. To the concentration on our breath that can slow and calm our minds and hearts in meditation and prayer. To George Floyd’s last cry, “I can’t breathe!” Breath is life. Breath is sacred. What will we create in the breath of our life? “How do we live a life worthwhile of our breath?”
 
It is so easy to be overwhelmed by the grief of our times. I feel it everyday. The grief of illness and unemployment, the grief of mourning for loved ones, the grief of injustice. Our first instinct as human beings in the face of such overwhelm is to push away the pain and find what to DO. Yet spiritual teachers of all traditions call us first to BE and even to be with the pain. We cannot change a troubled situation, a tragic systemic injustice, or offer change to another hurting person unless we have allowed ourselves to be changed first. Change begins with us. 
 
Tedious as it may seem, the change for justice, the healing of enmities, the transformation of minds and hearts for loving one another, all these begin with allowing our selves, our souls, to be transformed by God’s love. We begin by accepting the love of God and welcoming it into our very bodies. We slow down for at least some moments of each day to Breathe. To consciously let in the Breath of Life acknowledging it comes from Love and will heal our overwhelmed souls; then breathing out the Breath of Life knowing only Love can heal the world. 
 
I challenge you to practice breathing this way five minutes each day. See where it might lead you in living a life worthwhile of your life-giving breath. Concentrate on your breathing, on Love, not on what you want to change when your five minutes is over. Allow the Spirit to transform your nervous, anxious thoughts, your feelings of not being enough or doing enough. Just Breathe in Love. Pause and let it be in you. Then Breath out Love and trust God is ahead of you in the work for justice and healing our world needs. Pause and trust. Then Breathe again. Just BE in the Breath of Life. For five minutes. See what happens for the rest of your day. (And, of course, you can always repeat when needed!)
 
“How do we live a life worthwhile of our breath?”
With you in hope on this pandemic journey!

Blessings,

P.S. If you want more information on meditation/breath prayer practices, please let one of your pastors know. We have lots of resources. One place to begin is WeRiseNow.org, a site for Christian meditation practice that provides daily emails with a recorded guided meditation practice. One of the founders, the Rev. Dr. Robert Martin, is a dear friend of mine.