This is a statue in Treptower Park in Berlin.  It is a wonderful illustration of the great fable The Wolf and The Crane.  I have included it below.  I have been reflecting on the story of Job, the why questions and the risks entailed in both life and faith,  and this fable came to mind.  While it does not offer all the answers, it does offer a way of approaching the questions. 

THE WOLF AND THE CRANE  (Aesop’s Fables)

A wolf swallowed a bone which got stuck in his throat. The pain was excruciating, so the wolf started looking for someone who could be induced to remove the accursed thing in exchange for a reward. The wolf asked each of the animals if they would help him and finally the crane was convinced by the wolf’s solemn promises. Trusting her long beak to the wolf’s gaping maw, the crane carried out the dangerous cure. Yet when the crane demanded the promised reward, the wolf simply said, ‘You ungrateful creature! You extracted your head unharmed from my mouth and still you ask for a reward?’ 

Life is about risk with no guarantee of reward, trust without certainty and sometimes simply being thankful for having escaped alive. 

 

As I was driving in to the office on Tuesday morning, comfortably exceeding the speed limit, I was passed by a black Honda Civic with tinted windows and a smashed in passenger side. Apparently the wreck had not limited the car’s ability to run, nor had it hindered the driver’s desire for speed.  As the car sped by me, I happened to notice two bumper stickers on the rear, but could only make out one.  It read, “Excuse me officer, I thought you wanted to race.”  I could see the truth in that one.  The young woman inside the car was “dancing behind the wheel”; she appeared to be singing at the top of her lungs oblivious to the clear crisis that had befallen her or the potential consequences of her speed.  And the state of her automobile was apparently the last thing on her mind. Intrigued, I sped up so that I could perhaps read the other bumper sticker.  As my speed exceeded 85 mph:( with no gain in site, I decided to back off and wait for the inevitable slow down that would occur up ahead.  It did and I as I approached the car, the dance had not ended, nor had the singing.  I was able to read the other bumper sticker.  With apologies to all, it read, “It’s such a nice day, don’t f*** it up!”   I must say that I was thrown back, not by the language, but by the spirit of bold defiance.  A wrecked car, a cloudy day, and who knows, maybe even a few outstanding tickets, but a day filled nonetheless with a song and a dance and a spirit of hope for what was yet to be.   All of a sudden, the worries of my day seemed a bit less important.  I turned up the radio and decided to do my best to have a nice day and not mess it up for anyone else.  Sometimes, life requires a bold defiance to face up to the challenges and persevere with hope and confidence. 

Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans,

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.  (Romans 5:1-5)

Every fall my church hosts a pumpkin patch.  Several thousand pumpkins are delivered and placed amid the trees and fountains of the church grounds.  People come from far and wide to search for just the right pumpkin.  Children of all ages are captivated by the awe and wonder of the setting.  It is a time of memories recalled and memories made.  Cameras are ubiquitous and smiles are ear to ear.   I meet friends I have not seen in a while, see children that I first saw when they were born or baptized some years ago.   I watch as people give of their time and energy to help raise funds for important ministries of the church and community.  I watch as some people encounter the church in a new way, some for the first time.  I hope and pray they sense the spirit of thanksgiving and hope that undergirds this special place and time.    I hope and pray that they might come to experience some deeper sense of God’s presence in this place and connect that with the church.  

I must confess that I love the church.  I love church buildings and church architecture.  I love what they represent and the beauty they add to the landscape of life.  I love what they stand for and the divine mystery they represent and the human journey they facilitate.  I came across this meditation by Edmond Browning, former presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church.  It spoke to me in a special way.  He writes,

“When I visit an old church, I often think about what life was like for the people who first built it.  How much hard work it took to build the church.  What a different country they lived in from the one in which we live: a country in which uninhabited areas went on for miles and miles, a country in which people lived lives hard, lonely, and short.  A country in which families lost children often, to diseases for which there was no remedy.  A country in which a man in his fifties was old and so was a woman in her forties. A country in which, at this time of year, everyone who could carry a hayfork was in the fields bringing in the harvest.  We drive by the roadside vegetable stands and see the pumpkins, the squashes, the last tomatoes and beans.  We buy some of these things and decorate our homes with them, hang ears of corn on our doors, buy a couple of bales of straw and arrange them on our front porches with a pot of two of chrysanthemums.  We think they are beautiful.  They looked at those things and thanked God they wouldn’t starve in the winter to come.  And yet they found the energy and wood and trust enough to build God’s house.  Something in them knew that their trust rightly resided in God.  In a time when life was harder and more precarious than our lives are, they found the courage to trust in God”   (A Year of Days with The Book of Common Prayer, October 7).

Though we live in a much different day and age, may we find the courage, amid our awareness of God’s bounty and blessings, to trust.  May this be a season for us all to renew our faith and place our trust in the God from whom all blessings flow.

The world-renowned psychotherapist, Carl Jung (1875-1961) displayed this Latin phrase above the front door of his home in Zurich, Switzerland.  It is a powerful statement of faith and  strength for those times when we feel God’s absence in our lives because of a crisis of faith, a family tragedy, or personal loss.  Seasonal changes are happening all around us.  The warmth of summer is being chased away by the cool of fall.  The green of growth is being slowly replaced by the multi colored hues of life going dormant.  Changes in the landscape of our world remind us of the seasonal changes that take place in our lives.  I have found this phrase to be especially helpful and encouraging during times of seasonal change, especially when that change is personal. Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit   (Bidden or not bidden, God is present)  Whether we call upon God or not, whether we believe in God or not, God believes in us and is always present in our hearts, in our daily lives, in our world, and in our universe.   Thanks be to God!

Recently I was in Middleton Library at LSU doing some research and took a bathroom break.  While on break, I discovered on the wall what many would refer to as graffiti, some would describe as vandalism and still others would see as art.  I saw it as a prophetic reminder.   There on the wall,  someone had written in small letters the phrase,  “DONT FORGET HOW Beautiful THE WORLD IS.”  Someone elso had apparently come along and added the word “ever” which caused the phrase to now read “DONT ever FORGET HOW Beautiful THE WORLD IS.” 

In this age of cynicism and sarcasm, this simple reminder to pay attention to the beauty in the world, the goodness in creation and the acts of kindness and generosity that so often go unnoticed caused me to wonder how such profound truth could be captured in such small letters.  

C. S. Lewis wrote, “Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.”  

Maybe the real miracle was that I was paying attention and even noticed. 

Pay attention to the small letters.  They often reveal the deepest truth and regularly tell the real story.

I met him on Thursday.  His name is George and he is in the first grade at University Terrace Elementary School.  He and I will be spending time together each week over the next year.  So that we could get to know one another better, we were given a series of questions to ask and answer.  I learned that George likes to read and hates it when other kids misbehave.  George has an older sister, a younger sister and two younger brothers.   George loves to play on the playground and he likes candy a lot.  He has a contagious smile and a playful spirit.  When we got to the series of questions that asked, What state do you live in?  What city do you live in?  What street do you live on?, we made it through the first two just fine.  But when we got to the third question, George began to struggle a bit.  He did not know the street he lived on and answered, “Dead End Street.”   I asked him if he really lived on “Dead End Street” or if he lived near a sign that said, “Dead End Street.”  He could not or did not answer.  And so we moved on to read a book together and then he gave me a tour of the playground.  I took him back to his class and promised him I would see him next week.  As I left, I said a prayer hoping that in some small way our time together will help insure that he does not end up living his whole life on “Dead End Street.”

Wisdom cries out in the street;  

 

 

in the squares she raises her voice.

 

 

At the busiest corner she cries out;

 

 

at the entrance of the city gates she speaks: ‘How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple? How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge?

 

 

Let us not forget those for whom every day is a day of labor 

that has nothing to do with leisure. 

Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

This week we witnessed the end of an era in American politics.   Senator Edward Kennedy died after a year long battle with brain cancer.  His career was long and distinguished, though not without its low moments.   His personal faultsand failures became the focus for some, however his efforts to improve the quality of life for all Americans were legendary.  His ability to navigate the political maze of partisan politics and his record of passing legislation that garnered the support of even those most ideologically opposed to his core convictions have been well-documented.  What struck me this past week was to learn that not only did Senator Kennedy work through the legislative process to better the lives of others, he gave of himself in tangible ways as well.  Every Tuesday at lunch, he volunteered to read with a Washington DC public school student through the Everybody Wins program.  To many, no doubt, this was small in comparison to the major accomplishments in his life, but to me, it revealed the heart of a man who not only saw the big picture, but realized that it is the small everyday ways we each give of ourselves that can make the most tangible difference in the lives of others.  For the past year, I have been “too busy” to give an hour a week to volunteer as a mentor to a student.  If a United States Senator has one hour a week, I think I can find the time.  What about you?

Lately, I’ve been reading Macrina Wiederkehr’s book, Seven Sacred Pauses.   She offers a model for living mindfully each day through the  ancient practice of fixed hour prayer and invites us to consider ways in which we can all live more mindfully.  One way is to pause at specific times throughout the day to pray,  acknowledging that the work we are doing that day is an act of co-creation with God.  She writes,

“No matter what your work entails – housework, laundry, personal contacts, business meetings, preparing for workshops, yardwork, writing, composing, teaching, cooking, raising children, (fill in your own labor of love) – realize that you are an artist.  In some small way you are continuing the work of creation.  Remember to pause.”  p. 27

Reflecting on her words, I was reminded of the prayer written by the former Secretaty General of the United Nations,  Dag Hammarskjold –  “For all that has been, thanks.  For all that will be, yes.”

What if this or a similar prayer marked specific moments of our days?  What if we all paused each day with the goal of learning to live as “vessels of devotion, containers out of which we pour forth loving service to others”?   What if we all set as our goal to live more mindfully?  What difference would that make in our lives and in our world?