Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, September 22, 2024

“Sharing a message is a little like streaking.  It takes some forethought about the direction you are going to run, it is exciting, and it is definitely revealing.”  Ed Hinshaw in a keynote address at NEYM sessions, 1979.

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.  All things break and all things can be mended.  Not with time, as they say, but with intention.  So go.  Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.  The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.  L. R. Knost.

Sharing a message here and other places has often been stressful. Especially when I am not prepared which has happened some.  My thinking that I can leave the message to the Spirit to lead me works sometimes but not always.  My intention is to be open to the Spirit leading me.  Thoughts that influence the outcome of that intention sometimes get in the way.   Thoughts of doubt, of arrogance, of ….

 I have enjoyed the three year break from doing care of worship and sharing messages.  The meeting I attend in Northern Ireland is a strict unprogrammed meeting.   I love it.  I also love the semi-programmed nature of Durham.  I even also love the spirit and visceral experience in Catholic, high church worships.

Every time a community has discussions that may involve changes in process and functionality a shift happens.  A community is redefined.  A community is refined. 

Pulling from my dad’s quote I ask – What are your forethoughts? what direction will this meeting run?   Where are you going?  Where do you want to go?  What are your intentions?  What do your intentions and actions reveal about the meeting?  Who do you say you are? 

In the Bible, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say I am?” in Matthew 16:13–16, Mark 8:27–29, and Luke 9:18–20. After receiving various answers, including John the Baptist, Elijah, and one of the prophets, Jesus asks Peter, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter replies, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God”. 

Some say that this question is a turning point in the gospel records, and that everything that Jesus does after this is in direct relation to the answer given. 

Who do you say I am?  Who do you say we are?  Identity.  Leads to intentions.  Intentions leads to actions and a public expression of identity.  JC’s identity.  Son of God or Prince of peace, or man suffering a lot of tribulations in his three years of public ministry. 

Who are we?  Our choices of words, our actions, our decisions define us.  Our Intentions. 

Intentions are influenced by biases, assumptions, forethoughts.  Our thoughts and reasons leading to and influencing  our intentions.   Some help us be present to the leadings of God among us and some distract us from God’s truth with us in our times of discernment.  Actions that define who we are.

Andrew and Chris live across the street from each other.  They both thought they made an effort to meet the other.  But did not. In looking at others how are we influenced by negative and positive thoughts?   For both the intention was to be friendly.  Assumptions or some forethoughts got in the way.   Andrew.  The people living here already should take the initiative to come to my door and knock.  Vs anyone take the initiative. Chris.  The person who says little is a snob and unfriendly.  VS The person may be an introvert.

To not take the Ramallah Friends School job.  Forethoughts.  There is much danger and risk involved.   I need to be safe.  True or not true?  A third way?  Doing work for RFS from the States. Supporting organizations who support RFS.

To keep children in worship to a minimum to decrease distractions.  Forethoughts.  Children are noisy and distract us from our worship.  True or not true? Part true? Third way.  Bring the children in for part of the Meeting.

To welcome all no matter how they access the meeting.  Forethoughts. That is our call no matter how hard it is to maintain the system.    Third way?  TBD

To not use zoom to decrease distractions in worship.  Third way? TBD

To be a vibrant, spirit filled meeting for worship. 

Intentions. Leadings.  To go, to speak, to act.  To purify a leading an intention may we be aware of possible biases, assumptions, thoughts that blind us to the leading of Spirit.  May we be open to the forethoughts that led to the intention.  May we be open to the leading of the spirit that may lead to a third way of living out our intentions. 

The orange.  One orange and two kids want it.  A conflict.  Until we learn what they want it for.  Learn their intentions.  I want the rind. I want the juice. When deciding on what to do with a decision are we aware of the needs, wants and desires of the other?  The intentions of the other. Are we aware that there is often a third, or more, option to most decisions.

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, October 13, 2024

You all know the story of Adam and Eve.  They live in the Garden of Eden.  The deal is, they get to live in this paradise, but they are not, definitely not, to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge.  God told Adam he would die if he ate that fruit.  But Adam and Eve disobeyed.  They ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge.  And – surprise! – God didn’t put them to death.  Instead, he expelled them from the Garden of Eden.  He visited other consequences on them, too, but he did not kill them.  We might say he gave them a new deal.  Pretty surprising. 

You all know the story of Noah in the Bible.  God is so fed up with humankind that He sends a flood to wash the world clean.  Everyone and everything is killed except for Noah, his family, and two of each of kind of animal.  When it is over, God is horrified by what He (or She) has done.  God promises – surprise! – never, ever to do this again.  Whatever deal God had with humans before the flood, God now has a different deal  It’s  another new  deal.  

The Bible is full of stories: Adam and Eve, the Flood, Joseph and the Coat of Many Colors, Moses in the basket and Moses and the Ten Commandments, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, Ruth and Boaz, David and Goliath, David and Bathsheba, Joshua at the Gates of Jericho, Jonah and the Whale, the Manna from Heaven, the Loaves and the Fishes, Lazarus Raised from the Dead, the Crucifixion and the Empty Tomb: stories, lots and lots of stories.

Some of the stories are tragic, some comic, some just plain weird  Some of them purport to tell history, like the parting of the Red Sea or the Babylonian captivity of the Israelites.  Some, especially in the New Testament, are timeless parables, like the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son. 

All the stories seem to have something to do with our relationship to God: what God expects of us, and what happens to people who don’t live up to God’s expectations.

Many of the stories are about people who have stopped paying attention to God and who are brought up sharp by God.  God, apparently, intervenes to express God’s displeasure in some dramatic ways. 

Some are stories about God helping to rescue people in difficult circumstances.  Some are stories about people who thought they were doing what God asked only to find that God, apparently, is asking them to do something completely different. 

You can read these stories one at a time and that’s what most of us do most of the time.  But you can also try to fit them into one big story.  It’s the one big story that’s on my mind this morning.  The one big story: we don’t talk about that as often as we do the many little stories.

I want to pause here to say that I do not ask you to believe that the Bible is the inerrant word of God.  I do not ask you to believe that every word of it is the literal truth.  I don’t believe that.  But I do think the Bible is an extraordinary account (or really a collection of accounts) of people trying to seek the truth and to be faithful to God to the best of their understanding.  So, what’s the big story that runs through all the stories? 

When you try to see the stories as fitting into one big story, the striking things is how often the story changes abruptly.  We seem to be headed in one direction and then, whoops, we’re headed in another quite different direction. 

Adam and Eve, Noah: these aren’t the only times we see an abrupt shift in the big story, a change in the basic deal. 

— Following the Flood, we follow the stories of Abraham and subsequent patriarchs  — Isaac, Jacob, Joseph.  The Israelites, and the Israelites alone, become God’s Chosen People.  We follow them through their wanderings and their captivity in Egypt.  It seems like God has abandoned his people.  And then we get their amazing escape, the Exodus, the parting of the Red Sea. 

— The story changes again, pretty dramatically, with Moses and the Ten Commandments.  Once again, God’s Chosen People haven’t been very faithful, haven’t been paying attention.  They are lost in the wilderness.   Again, God tries something new.  He gives them a kind of cheat sheet in the form of two rock tablets.  Simple.  Clear.  Thou Shalt!  Thou Shalt Not!  It’s another new deal.  Get it?

Got It!  The Bible story continues with that Mosaic Law the framework for quite a while.  In this portion of the story, sometimes people remember, sometimes they abide by the rules, but more often they don’t.  Still, that’s the deal.  Obey the law.

Or: that’s the deal until it isn’t.  We get a dramatically new deal with the coming of Jesus, another abrupt turn in the story.  Jesus says “I come not to abolish the law, but to fulfill it.”  And then we’re surprised, even shocked, when he’s crucified.  Now, no more God’s Chosen People.  Now the deal is for everyone.  An epoch of law gives way to an epoch of loving God and loving your neighbor.  It’s a more demanding deal but probably a better one.

It’s a zig-zag story.  It just isn’t the case that the Bible presents us with God’s expectations as never-changing.  So what’s going on here with all these new deals?

Some theologians, especially some Bible literalist evangelicals who are penecostals or charismatics (not my people!) have a fancy way of talking about these abrupt shifts in the story about what God expects of us.  They call each of the new deals a “dispensation.”  Some of these theologians list as many as seven dispensations, seven different deals between God and human beings.  But however you count, when you look at the big story in the Bible, it’s hard not to see some very abrupt shifts — zig-zags — each one a new deal.

Many people who talk this way, about “dispensations” want us to believe we are in the next-to-last of these dispensations.  They want us to believe that there is one more to come and they know exactly what that deal will look like.  I’m far from persuaded they know what they are talking about.

When I look at the Bible as a story with some very abrupt changes of direction, here’s what catches my attention..

One is that because the deal keeps changing, it is a little risky to go backwards to some moment in the Bible and say, “that’s what God expects of us because that’s what God expected of Adam and Eve.”  Or “because that’s what God expected of Abraham.” Or “because that’s what God expected of Moses.”  The rules in Leviticus may have been appropriate then, but now we have a whole new deal.  God’s expectations keep changing.  At least in the Bible telling, God keeps changing her mind. 

Another thing that fascinates me about seeing the Bible’s big zig-zag story is that it shows us God is acting in history.  Bible isn’t a story of God setting things up one way and letting the whole thing run just the way She expected.  God seems to be surprised at what human beings do – or disappointed might often be the better word –, and so deals with this by changing the deal.  There simply isn’t one deal for all time. 

Some of us are parents, and maybe this behavior sounds familiar.  A child of ours strays from our expectations.  We try one thing, then we try another, and another.  Our approach is not fixed.  I don’t myself know whether God is ever surprised.  I don’t pretend to understand God, and I don’t think any other human truly does.   I’m just saying that this is how the Bible presents God:  as surprised, and therefore as trying something new, and then something new again.  

A third thing I find fascinating in all this is that no human being sees these abrupt changes coming.  No one accurately foresees what God is about to do.  Adam and Eve didn’t, Noah didn’t, Isaac didn’t Joseph didn’t, Moses didn’t. 

Now you might be thinking that the coming of Jesus at least was foretold   There are prophecies in Isaiah aren’t there, that told us to expect the Messiah.  Sure, I guess.  That’s the way some of the Gospels tell the story.  But for me, that’s not very convincing.  In truth, Jesus was a big surprise to everybody:

· He certainly was a surprise to Mary and Joseph,

· a surprise to the Disciples,

· a surprise to the Pharisees and Sadducees,

· a surprise to Herod and Pilate,

· a surprise to Paul.

· I’d say, a surprise to everyone. 

And if Jesus was a surprise, then we don’t know what’s going to happen next.  We have to keep listening to God.  God is still talking to us, and that’s something Quakers understand unusually well. 

God has been acting in history the Bible tells us.  For all we know, God is still acting in history.  And maybe God has another surprise for us. 

One of most important things that has drawn me to Quaker worship is that Quakers work from the assumption that God has more to say to us.  We are confident that we can hear God, now, in the present, if we will still our hearts and listen.  That’s why we gather for worship in the way we do. 

So stay tuned, I tell myself.  That’s an essential part of the big story.   

Also posted on River View Friend

Message for Durham Friends Meeting based on Psalm 133, September 8, 2024

Psalm 133

How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!

It is like the precious oil on the head,

running down upon the beard,

on the beard of Aaron,

running down over the collar of his robes.

It is like the dew of Hermon,

which fall on the mountains of Zion.

For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life forevermore.

       —The New Oxford Annotated Bible Fifth Edition, NRSV

            Good morning!  Hallelujah!  I am so grateful to be here with you this morning, and so surprised.  I am surprised that Spirit asked that I bring a message to you because public vocal testimony is not my strongest gift.  As Friend Sue Reilly often says, the conversation with the Divine often includes the incredulous question “You want me to do what?!” So, I am here before you in faithfulness – trusting that all will be well.[1]  Please extend both patience and grace to me as I practice being faithful to this leading to be among you.  What I believe I am asked to do today is to help us celebrate the joy, the labor, and the messiness of Quaker unity which like all great symphonies has plenty of dissonance. Today I hold out to you that we need to celebrate that dissonance – that messiness, that uncomfortable feeling – as part of the in-breaking of the Holy Spirit in our time.  We need to figure out how to do this without becoming so focused on the dissonance, or the messenger, that we forget to take in as much of the entire opus as possible. We also need to allow the dissonances and the silences in order to appreciate and fully enter the joy of the musical experience.

              I rediscovered Psalm 133, the Psalm we read this morning, after a concordance search to see what the Scriptures had to say about unity.  I was asked to help present a program on the “Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life” and my assigned theme was unity. Honestly, the New Testament verses weren’t very helpful to me that day. They focused on unity as a way to protect and build a new community in the midst of first century Christian persecution. The authors of the text we were using as the base of this program, Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat,[2] would probably would have found the New Testament readings acceptable because they defined unity as “living in harmony with other people.”[3] They continued their description of unity saying:

“It means working for a common cause with those around the globe who know that when one person gains, all gain, and when one fails, all fail. We are crafting unity when we build communities.” They continue:

“The spiritual practice of hospitality helps us learn to respect differences and celebrate diversity in Creation. Unity is about affirming commonalities.  This can be as simple as acknowledging how you are like another person. It can lead to actions demonstrating your solidarity with others. Without unity, there is little hope for compassion, justice, or peace.“[4]

I could agree – all of that is true, but for me this definition wasn’t complete enough.  I had much more that I wanted to express about the process of getting to unity.  As a Quaker, I have found that unity goes far beyond the Brussats’ description. Their description left out the messiness, and sometimes hurtfulness, in getting to unity.  It seemed to pass too quickly over the acknowledgment of and celebration of differences as well as commonalities, and it left out the mysticism of personal unity with the Holy Spirit. That moment when one’s head, heart and gut align, and one just knows that their will is aligned with the will of the Divine.  That moment when one can stop struggling and striving, at least for a short time.   I delighted in this Old Testament image of messy oil and damp dew. In its poetry, the psalm seemed to capture both the messiness of unity and the mystical union that was beyond caring about any possible mess. This image of unity, with all its messiness, painted exactly the vision of what I wanted to express about Quaker unity to this non-Quaker group. As I became aware of the Holy Spirit guiding my search of the Scriptures for an adept Biblical metaphor, I experienced a tiny bit of the Everyday Sacred.

            When this group and I eventually read Psalm 133 together, and I described how chaotic unity could look in my Quaker world, I wondered if I was making any sense to these non-Quaker folks.  I spoke of Quakers protesting and getting arrested for any number of causes while other Quakers sit and hold them in waiting, expectant worship or stand in silence to film and witness their protest.  I spoke of those Quakers raising funds for the bail and defense of those arrested.  I spoke of the sacrifice of time, comfort and money on each person’s part. I spoke of Bolivian Quakers creating water filters in their country.  I spoke of worldwide gatherings of Quakers and different worship practices with some worshipping by singing and shouting praises to God and Jesus while others sit in silent, expectant worship listening for the still small voice within and some who do both. I spoke of those using very different language to speak of the Divine. Those that use the words God, Christ Jesus and Holy Spirit and those that prefer to speak of the Light and the Light within.  I spoke of the energy needed to lovingly listen through another’s language – a process that can be painful and rewarding at the same time.  I spoke of the longing to hear one’s own language spoken by another.  I spoke of intervisitation both regionally and internationally with Friends going, and being received, in a Spirit of Love and Friendship. I spoke of some of these travelers bearing needed medical or other supplies or a message that needs to be heard.  I spoke of those carrying a message hearing another message in response. I spoke of other Quakers sponsoring refugees from war torn, poverty ridden, or intolerant places to come to other safer places for a better chance at reaching their divine potential; I spoke of the fear and needs of those coming and those receiving them.  I spoke of Quaker Women from Kenya and the United States working together to provide something as simple as reusable sanitary pads, and the means to make more, so that poor Kenyan women could continue to go to school or work regularly and reach their potential in the place that they live.  I spoke of those teaching at the Friends Schools in Portland, ME, Providence, RI and in the West Bank City of Ramallah.  I spoke of painful arguing among ourselves over how all of us will be welcomed to our Quaker table.  I spoke of some putting their bodies in harm’s way while others stayed home and maintain a base of operation as Margaret Fell did at Swarthmore Hall centuries ago.  I spoke of those that gave of their capital so that other could answer these calls to witness to the Love of the Spirit in the World. We also spoke of the individual unity with the Divine that is possible. 

            I paused and asked the group if what I was describing made any sense to them. What I didn’t know was that I was speaking with some weighty and skilled musicians.   To show their understanding, one of them gave me back the beautiful metaphor of dissonance in a symphony with which I opened this message.[5]   The rest of the group joined in the development of that metaphor.  Hallelujah, my shoulders dropped three inches, and I sighed a breath of relief as I watched this group run with this discussion of how chaotic unity could look and how messy and fulfilling it could simultaneously be.  They described their understanding that Unity was not about sameness and uniformity, but an active Spirit working to make the “City of the Divine”[6] a reality for all in this moment right now.  They spoke of how hard one musical piece might be to perform while another is easy. They spoke of a unity not just about building community and restoring “streets to dwell live in”[7] by working toward a common goal, but a unity of our will transformed to match that of the Divine in its many manifestations both individually and collectively.

            Soon after this Spiritually-covered experience with these non-Quaker friends, I took a class on Quaker Beliefs at Earlham School of Religion with Stephen Angell.  Kenyan Quaker Paster Noah Kellum was also taking that class.  In the class he summarized well this symphony of messy Quaker unity when he shared:

The concept of unity in diversity is a cornerstone of Quaker belief and practice. Despite the diverse interpretations and practices that have emerged over the centuries, Quakers maintain a sense of unity rooted in shared values and spiritual experiences. This unity is not about uniformity in thought or action but a deeper spiritual connection and mutual respect that transcends differences. – Noah Kellum, May 2024

I would modify Noah’s summary only slightly to say “a sense of unity rooted in shared values and in both shared and diverse spiritual experiences.”

            More recently, at our Yearly Meeting Sessions, Friend LVM Shelton expanded the metaphor of the symphony for me when she noted that the silences in the piece are often as important as the dissonance.  She noted how the silent rest can mark endings, new beginnings, and changes in the direction of the movement, changes in the direction of our lives.[8]  

            I hope today that sharing this story of my still evolving, metaphor for Unity brings you both joy and hope for the work before us as 21st century post-modern Quakers. I hope we continue to be alive to and listen for new in-breaking of the Spirit of Love, Light, Toil and maybe even a little Chaos and Pain   We may hear that still small voice anywhere – in the melody, the harmonies, the dissonance, or the silent rests.  I pray that we might recognize and greet this Spirit both among us and among those that would be co-creators with us. I pray that the oil we receive is warm and free flowing and acknowledge that often I fail to perceive my oil this way.  Sometimes it feels cold and sticky.  I seek to feel my oil as warm and free flowing every day: however, I was recently reminded by Tammy Forner, who is here with me today as Elder, that “cold, sticky oil also serves a purpose,” one being a base for healing salves.  

             Now, I invite you to close your eyes and feel your oil and dew in this moment and know your condition whatever it may be.  Is it blessed warm oil pouring over your head and dripping down your neck and over your collar?   Is it encounter in a blessed, silent pause or in a cacophony of sound?  Maybe today it feels more like a cold, sludge that you are going to need help removing. Is it getting in your eyes and dripping from your nose making your way forward seem unclear possibly filling your heart with fear? Or maybe your oil feels like gentle, anointing massage oil, working its way into your pores, relaxing and energizing at the same time.  Preparing and opening you with love for whatever comes next in your call to live a life aligned with the Holy Spirit.  Maybe it’s like a good hand lotion, soaking in and moisturizing your soul – hardly noticed once applied.[9]  Is it so unnoticed that you forget to return to the Source and apply more before your soul has begun to dry out and long for more moisture?

            And speaking of moisture, what about that dew that gives needed moisture to plants?  While sometimes dew is a blessed relief from relenting heat and drought, at other times it makes your feet wet and cold and has dirt and grass clippings sticking to your shoes.  That dew can make it impossible to sit down in the grass or on a lawn chair without soiling your britches.  Don’t we sometimes grumble over the moisture and soiled britches and forget to be grateful for them both?   

            So what does unity or being in the process of getting to unity feel like for you in this moment?  Does it feel like a refreshing blessing or costly, dirty struggle?  Is it oily or dewy?  Does it raise hot fear in you that needs the moist dew to calm it? Are you exhausted and in need of oil to relax and be rejuvenated?  Are you able to feel any joy in the knowledge that unity is both a process and moments in time?[10]  It’s probably clear that for me, Unity is not a destination to which we arrive together once and for all.   How is your process of getting to unity both with the Divine and with the communities surrounding you fairing today? 

Bibliography

Abbot, Margery Post. To Be Broken and Tender: a Quaker theology for today. Palo Alto, California: Friends Bulletin Corporation, 2010.

Brussat, Frederic, and Mary Ann Brussat. Spiritual Rx. New York: Hyperion, 2000.

[1] Julian of Norwich reference

[2] (Brussat and Brussat 2000)

[3] Ibid

[4] Ibid

[5] Thank you to Mary Anne Totten and the residents of the Havenwood Heritage Heights first “Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life” group for this wonderful metaphor of dissonance in a symphony.

[6] (Abbot 2010)

[7] See Isaiah 58:12 RSV

[8] Thanks to Mary Anne Totten for reminding me that a musical term for a silent pause in the music is a “rest.”

[9] Thank you to Mary Wholley, from the Hadley MA UCC church for adding the metaphor of the love of the Spirit being like hand cream to my repertoire.

[10] Thanks to Brian Drayton for a conversation in which I realized that Unity is a both/and situation.  It is something that happens in a moment and a continuous process

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, August 11, 2024

What do we say to God?

A friend recommended a book of poems, Bucolics by Maurice Manning.  I trust their recommendations so I purchased it. I didn’t appreciate the poems until I started reading them out loud. These poems are one side of a conversation between the poet and Creation or God.  Reading them out loud made me pay attention. This is the poet talking to God or creation – what he calls “Boss” – without including God’s response. 

I’m going to read a few poems and some sections of poems in this message – I will read each poem twice.

O boss of ashes boss of dust
you bother with what floats above
the chimney what settles to the ground

you wake the motes from sleep
you make them curtsy in a ray of sun
they hold their tiny breath as if
they’re waiting for the little name
of the dance that’s coming next then they
will take their places Boss if I
were smaller I would join them O
I’d cut a rug or two I’d slap
my hand against my shoe if that’s
the kind of fuss you’re raising Boss
you know I never know for sure
I only know you bother me
from time to time you’ve caught my breath

a time or two you’ve stirred me up
before which makes me want to tell
you Boss I wouldn’t mind it if
you bothered me a little more

What leaps out is the clarity that the poet knows that Boss is present in each moment, each small event is significant, and that the poet feels invited to observe, comment and feels bold enough to make suggestions to Boss. This is an intimate, reciprocal relationship. The speaker is curious about Boss,  and sees themselves as a collaborator with Boss.  And Boss knows the poet fully.  By sharing their half of the conversation, we are invited into this wonderful relationship.  The poet is engaged in a ceaseless conversation and is sharing what they have learned about God from their experience.  

Am I your helper Boss or am

I not do I bring in the Hay

For me or you or only for

The horse I help the horse he helps

Me too why sometimes Boss he hooks

His head across my shoulder just

To rest it there he’ll heave a sigh

As if he’s tuckered he always makes

me laugh he knows I know he wants

an apple Boss his heavy head

on me it helps it helps so much

it helps to hear him sigh a sigh

he doesn’t really mean he means

another thing is that the way

you mean to mean another Boss

another thing beyond the thing

you want from me you see the horse

gives me a weary sigh when he’s

not sleepy Boss he doesn’t want

to hear sweet dreams from me he wants

to hear you want an apple hoss

I mean we help each other Boss

—————-

Fragments:

 … O everything gets carried Boss, / even if it never moves / I wonder if you ever notice/ but sometimes Boss I carry you.

How big is your hand Boss hold it up / to show me if you can I need / to know you know I need to know/ so many things …

I guess you’ve got a lot / of hands though I’m just one / of many Boss  I’ll turn / the earth I’ll shock the corn / O Boss whatever else / you need I’ll pitch it in …

In reading these poems, I found myself paying attention to what I say to God – beyond the intentional forms of praise and gratitude and listening. ..  I recognized that when I am asked how spirit is with me,  I’m more apt to share what I felt or heard from God then to share my side of the conversation.   Talking with God is prayer. 

In The Sermon on The Mount, Jesus is giving direct and clear guidance to his followers – to preach, to share all things in common, to heal.  But he has to teach his followers how to pray – they know how to do all the other things, but they did not know how to pray.  The prayer he talk, as it comes to us after many translations is a prayer that includes permission to make demands on God “Give us our Daily Bread”…

When I pray each morning I start singing “Praise God from whom all blessings flow..”  The way I talk to God reveals how I see God, what I know from my experience. Do I see God as playful, inviting, distant, funny, known or a mystery? Do I see God as a Savior, a Father, a constant companion? As separate from me or as something I am a part of? The other day in my morning prayers, after singing “Praise God” and noticing all that I had to be grateful for since the day before, I realized that the meadow where I go each morning was so full of bees and other pollinators that I could hear it hum.  It was this that I talked to God about through the rest of the day – not the gratitude or the praise or the petitions.  

The query that I bring is what do you say to God? Are you bold enough to make suggestions? Are you paying the close attention that creation warrants? Are you paying attention to the dance of the dust motes.  What do you say to God and how does that inform you of what you know of God?

______________________________________________________________________________

Here is a poem I did not read that I find particularly delightful and close to some of my conversations with God.

I  like the weaving bees I like

The purple clover blossoms the way

The pasture runs away I like

In winter sinking lambs in straw

How I like bearing buckets full

of water waking up the sun

I like making up a little song

O looking at the sky I close

One eye I hold my hand in the air

I let the red hawk tip my fingers

Every day I pretend I am

A tree in your pasture Boss a tree …

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, June 23, 2024.