Preaching to the choir?

I’m part of a choir that’s full of busy people. At the start of each cycle, we take our music, and commit to spending time to learn our parts before we come together in rehearsals. It’s a fun experience when we do coalesce as a choir; there’s the social factor of meeting and connecting, as well as the musical overlay of all of our many parts. As we each know what parts we’ll be singing, we live out some healthy boundaries – staying in our own lane, as it were, and letting others stay in theirs.

The commitment to each other is delightful, for in doing our own practice and learning, we are honouring the time and efforts that the others are also contributing to the whole. It can be empowering when we discover how our individual work enhances and uplifts the equal work of the others in the choir; together we are more than the sum of our parts! More than once I have been ‘carried’ by the folks near me, as I wrap my brain around a particular piece of music.

Part of the learning curve continues as our attendance fluctuates each rehearsal; life happens and we’re not always all available every set time. Yet we celebrate the successes we have, and extend grace as we also receive it. (At one rehearsal, I was the only S1, and after we all held an extended end note I was particularly gassed… yet upheld by the supportive comments of my fellow singers).

Part of our rehearsals include the occasional time of ‘shaking things up’; for example, we might all disperse around the room, or into small groups, where we are not singing with others in our same range. It gives us a chance to appreciate the other parts from different perspectives and locations, and learn to adapt accordingly.

Singing in a choir can be a LOT of fun; it can be quite revealing about how we respond to community. We have chosen to be together, even before we know who we all are; we are trusting in the gifts and skills being offered, as we trust that ours will also be appreciated. We are learning, and growing, and evolving, as we find ways to work together in. And we delight in the output: the joy of singing.

Any community can be like this: welcoming in newcomers, extending grace when things aren’t perfect, collaborating to benefit everyone. There are many analogies that can be made between a (functional and friendly) church and a (functional and friendly) choir. My ongoing hope for the church is that it will celebrate the opportunities to come together; and that we will always commit to make a joyful noise unto the Lord.

Freedom?

We’re well into election season here, and a few days ago I happened to be at home when someone came canvassing. I recognise that I’m a political animal; a long-ago earned degree in Political Science set me up well for this time of governmental change.

The person started off with a question that I recognised had the intention to be evocative, controversial, a definitive conversation starter. The loaded question earnestly asked was: “Do you agree that your government should support your freedom?”

I was keen for a political discourse; but he wasn’t prepared for my response: I asked him how he/his candidate/his party was defining ‘freedom’. He wasn't able to; and even when I offered some prompts (Religious? Personal? Military?) and asked how each of those fit in to the question, and by extension the political platform, he wasn’t able to make those connections. (Instead I was encouraged to make an appointment with the candidate directly so I could ask those questions.)

The words we use can have different meaning, and different connotation, depending on our experience and worldview, and the present context. And these contexts are regularly evolving, growing, changing. Life happens!

Overall, freedom is being released from something that constrains us. While there’s a broad way to apply that definition to our lives, as people of faith we can seek the freedom that is promised to us by God. It’s not a freedom that can be quantified by earthly standards, for it brings us beyond earthly restraints. When we are free, we can understand what it means to be in the world but not of the world.

So as I have had a few moments to ponder what it means to be free, I understand that my true freedom is granted by God, through the promises made to us all in Jesus the Christ. We are free to shed the earthly cords that bind, and to dwell in the liberation of divine love and walk in the light of the Lord.

As Simeon proclaimed that day in the Temple: (Luke 2:29-32)
Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people.

Signs and Lattes

Last Monday, on Thanksgiving, I made myself a latte.

It’s not uncommon, but it’s also not common. It differs enough from my day-to-day pour-over brewing in many ways: the grind, the machine, even the vessel of choice (while I have my preferred morning coffee mug rotation, lattes go into a ceramic latte bowl specific to the purpose.)

It is a little sign to myself of how I am beginning the day. These little variances communicate – even just to myself – the intended pattern: a latte in the bowl indicates a relaxed time in the morning. Yes, I had a to-do list, and yes it was a productive day; but starting with a different mindset – all from a latte.

We regularly communicate such small signs to our families and friends, and colleagues and strangers; often without realising it. My dogs know that when I put on my outdoor shoes, a walk is imminent; but when I pick up my purse and car keys that I am heading out (usually without them!)

So much of our communication is non-verbal, which means that little signs can make a big difference in how others will see and perceive us. As Christians, we are given the opportunity to be careful about how we present who we are. For example, wearing a cross but gossiping gives a mixed message. The myriad of ways that we live our faith (responding to the vulnerable with dignity, challenging unjust systems, speaking the truth in love, etc.) can show the world who (and whose) we are.

Jesus spoke often of paying attention to the signs (see Matthew 24); he also demonstrated signs. Signs of mercy and grace, of community-building and of self-care, of prayerful response to the glory of God in our midst. May we all be attentive to the signs of divine grace and love that are continually flowing upon us!

Seeds and Hope

I’ve been writing a lot about my garden lately – a timely topic as we celebrate Thanksgiving weekend!

Much of what I planted last spring didn’t quite take off the way I had intended – or hoped! I have tried to leave things growing as long as possible, yet with the frosty temperatures coming this weekend, most of it is now in.

My squashes came in today let me just acknowledge how thankful I am that I am not relying on this crop to feed me through the winter!

Three pathetically small buttercup squashes were all that came in this fall. One was too tiny to have any flesh, the other two offered a total yield of half a cup (tasty, but tiny).

However; they also provided seeds for next year’s crop. Even the itty-bitty-quarter-sized squash had some viable seeds. So, one hopes for a different outcome next year!

The seeds are little pods of hope; they are a comfort for the future.

In a time of uncertainty in the world, when civility seems a lost art, when fear-mongering seems to be the solitary political platform, when conflicts are affecting thousands of people, when disasters are devastating communities… it is easy to sink into darkness, that place of sadness, apathy, or grief.

Yet the seeds prevail. And I believe that there are seeds of goodness that transcend the gardens; in our lives, in our relationships, in our actions, in our imaginations…

The seeds are there, even in the tiniest or darkest of places. I believe they are worth seeking out, and saving, and planting: so that they may grow.

And when the seeds of hope start growing, they start nourishing us – and perhaps this is how we will overcome the darkness that encroaches in the world.

Francis, Animals, and Connecting

October 4th marks the (liturgical) memorial of Francis of Assisi, sometimes called “the poor one of Christ”. Despite a wealthy family, he is noted for his voluntary poverty after a powerful conversion experience at age 20. He helped establish the Order of the Lesser Brethren (colloquially called Franciscans) in 1209 and a second order, the Poor Clares, with Clare of Assisi in 1212.

Committed to a life of simplicity and compassion, Francis came to understand God’s glory revealed in all of the natural order, and celebrated the gift of all creatures.

Some 8 centuries later, it is the connection with animals that has come to leave a mark on our society, with many faith communities marking a “Blessing of the Animals”: many focus simply on the pets that re brought in by congregants, others also include acknowledgement of the other animals active in our lives.

The Animal Blessing services also provide for us a bridge; in our modern world, it is a chance for us to welcome folks into a community for a time of prayer and connection. Animal lovers who do not have other connections to the church can feel at home bringing their beloved furry/feathered/finned critters to a time of joy and thanksgiving.

Imagine if every week our regular offering of praise and worship were to be so welcoming and encompassing with the broader community around us. How might we engage folks on non-animal Sundays? In what ways do we maintain connection each day?

Hopefully we might be as humble as Francis as we mold this animal ceremony around his feast day, and find new ways to connect with all those God puts in our path.

Waste Not, Want Not

In this, the last week of the church’s recognition of the Season of Creation, we’ve been having a discussion about the impacts that humanity has had on the planet (not so good) and the potential impacts we can have in the future (full of hope!)

 

One of the topics raised last week was the adage we all learned some decades ago: reduce, reuse, recycle.

 

It’s a great mantra; yet we often overlook the importance of the order of this. Our first call is to reduce our consumption, then reuse what we already have, and utilize recycling as a last resort. Too often, we shed our awareness and responsibility by simply filling up our blue bins, where they can be taken away and (hopefully) recycled.

 

Part of our call to reduce our consumption is a chance to be financially frugal, which will likely also lead to a reduction in waste. One of the areas I focus on is in food waste: fo9r wasting food is wasting money, and wasting the planet.

 

Yes, I’m *that* person, who saves the end cuts of vegetables in a bag in the freezer, until I can boil them into a stock; I look for creative recipes for the food that I have. Sometimes this can be a wonderful success; sometimes I learn that I won’t be doing that recipe again!

 

This week, I’m looking forward to trying some new recipes from parts that, in the past, I may have just dropped in the stock-making bag (or directly into the composter!) I was gifted some beet leaves, so am eager to try a dal recipe. The carrots I mentioned in last week’s blog have been harvested, and… well, to call them tiny would be a compliment; but the greens have been washed and stripped and are ready for the pesto making!

 

I appreciate that not everyone enjoys cooking, or experimenting, but for me it’s one way to deepen my appreciation for, and engagement with, God’s creation. There is much to be thankful for, even in unexpected places. The goodness is literally coming up from the ground, and we are being invited to be creative in celebrating our local bounty.

All while respecting the earth, and decreasing our waste – thus celebrating all that God provides. 

Carrots! And Ephesians!

As the temperatures are cooling, and the threat of frost increases, I’ve been slowly transitioning my little garden pots. The peas and beans came out last week, and this week my sights were set on the chard. (I’m holding out hope for the squash to keep growing!)

Interestingly, when I was planting the seeds into my planters last spring, I had an ‘ooops’ moment and accidentally dropped some carrot seeds into the chard pot. So, as the summer progressed, I watched carrot greens arise with enthusiasm, knowing that there would not likely be any carrots (the pots are small, the chard leaves block the sun, etc.). But I left them where they were, so as to provide ample carrot greens for some autumnal treat (apparently carrot green pesto is yummy; I’ll let you know!)

This week, assessing the chard, I noticed a spot of colour that didn’t quite belong. On closer inspection, it turns out I do have some very keen and determined carrots trying to grow. I was seeing their little orangey-brown tops starting to pop through the soil, desperate for some sunshine.

It got me thinking about the act of growing carrots. We drop a few seeds in, and nature does its thing under the soil beyond our sight, and some time later we rip those roots out of the earth and enjoy them.

Carrots are both rooted and grounded; they have the root tendrils that reach through the varying layers of soil, transporting nutrients and water to the root vegetable, thus enabling growth. And they are grounded, as their development takes place within a sturdy environment, the flexible greens being the only thing above the soil until the plant is ready to emerge into our sight. Even then, carrots can be quite solidly situated within that soil.

As our mid-week worship heard the lesson this week from Ephesians 3.17 (…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love) I pondered about those carrots. Rooted, grounded, and emerging at their own pace. We too, through our faith, find ourself rooted (receiving the nourishment of Christ) and grounded (with a firm foundation of faith).

And, like those hiding little carrots, we too emerge into the world to live the life of those who are beloved; who have been blessed and can be a blessing.