Category: religious/spiritual

Sunday New Normal

For the second week in a row, I met my parents at church for 8:30 Mass. It’s great to have them back out and about after working through all the health stuff of the summer.  I’m hoping that I will be able to meet them for church most weeks through the fall, until the cold and snow make it too difficult for them to get out that early in the morning.

Today was the first time this season that Genesis Choir sang. This was the choir with which my daughter sang during her last two years at home.  Last June, I wrote about the impending end of her singing and ringing handbells at church near home; today was the first time I heard the choir without her in the front row.

The sound is different. The vast majority of the choir is 30+ years older than my daughter and her younger voice helped to smooth out some of the vibrato of the older soprano voices.  Besides her voice, I know they miss her energy, caring, and helpfulness.

For prelude, the choir sang “Servant Song” by Richard Gillard. This hymn is inextricably tied in my mind to the last weekend my daughters and I particiated in liturgies at the parish we lost in 2005.  That June Saturday, we provided music for the diocesan ordination at the cathedral in Syracuse. My older daughter cantored, my younger daughter rang handbells, and I helped with the conducting duties.  On Sunday, the choirs combined to sing for the first Mass of one of the newly ordained priests, who was from our parish.  “Servant Song” was one of the requested pieces that weekend and holds a lot of personal meaning for me.

The circumstances that led to our leaving our parish home were very painful, so difficult that it still hurts nine years later. For the first several years in our new parish, I would cry every time I heard “Servant Song.”  I couldn’t sing it at all. Eventually, I got to the point where I could make it through singing it part way, although the line, “I will weep when you are weeping” would always make me choke up.  In the last couple of years, I’ve actually been able to get through the whole hymn dry-eyed.

This morning, with an empty seat in the front row of sopranos where my daughter used to sit, I admit that I did brush away a few tears.

Poem – September 11, 2002

In commemoration, I am sharing a poem I wrote about the first anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.

September  11, 2002
~~~ by  Joanne Corey

Last year
sky
clear
blue.
Today
wind
swirling.
Bells
ringing.
Names….
Names…..
Names…..
New York
Arlington
Shanksville.
Their dust
spiraling
heaven-ward.
Soul-wind.

One-Liner Wednesday – Aaron Copeland quote

“So long as the human spirit thrives on this planet, music in some living form will accompany and sustain it.”
– Aaron Copeland

Join in with Linda’s One-Liner Wednesday:  http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/one-liner-wednesday-whats-holding-you-back/

Poem by Patricia Raube about Michael Brown

Patricia Raube, who is one of my spiritual sisters and a Binghamton NY area Presbyterian pastor, has written a moving, insightful, and spirit-filled poem about Michael Brown. She has given her permission to share it with attribution.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Burning Bush

I hardly dare ask… I know we have no right…
But Michael Brown, I must ask this great favor, this unspeakable gift.

Trayvon was not enough, nor Emmett,
nor the whole host and holocaust of men of color,
(did we even notice Kajieme?)
enslaved, disposable,
less than human through the sites of a gun.

I hardly dare ask.

The hashtag is good– ‪#‎blacklivesmatter‬—
but I fear it isn’t enough,
won’t do the job we need it to do,

the enormous breaking down
of laws and structures and hearts
the massive dismantling of privilege unacknowledged
and assumptions unchallenged.

Oh Michael Brown. I know we have no right to ask,
the image is all too close
to the evil fires set again and again…
the symbol of hope, the cross of Christ
transformed into Satan’s flag of terror,
crackling and crumbling in a Missouri night.

I know we have no right to ask, But ask I will.

Oh Michael Brown, will you be our burning bush?

c. Patricia Raube 2014

One-Liner Wednesday – Ilia Delio quote

“We are created for love, and that’s what keeps pulling us onward.”
– Ilia Delio

Join us for Linda’s One-liner Wednesdays:  http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/08/27/one-liner-wednesday-creations/

Re-gaining my bearings

When I last posted, I was feeling overwhelmed by – well – everything.

I’ve been working on finding some hope amid the chaos, with help from many people and their words.

My friend and spiritual companion Yvonne sent words of wisdom from Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Pat, another spiritual sister, posted a prayer from Julia Seymour. Sister Simone Campbell and NETWORK continue their call for peace and care for all people, especially those on the margins or at risk from violence and deprivation. Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont and Professor Robert Reich continued their progressive statements that “promote the general welfare” as the U.S. Constitution states. I started reading Franciscan Richard Rohr’s Immortal Diamond.

Improvement in family situations has helped, too. My parents have made progress in their continuing recovery from health challenges. Our younger daughter completed orientation for grad school with classes beginning on Monday. Our son-in-law completed his PhD comprehensive exams, despite a computer dying at the worst possible time.

This morning, we sang Benedictine Delores Dufner’s  “Sing a New Church” which begins as a call for Christian unity but expands to envision peace and justice among nations and all peoples. It reminded me that, while many of my values come to me through the Catholic Christian tradition, at their core, they parallel those of all people of good will, whether or not they follow a spiritual practice.

The common thread is to concentrate on and uphold goodness, peace, love, and justice. These are much more common, much more the norm than their opposites. The violent, the intolerant, the exploitative are loud and try to control the conversation and other people, but we must not mistake that they are few in number. Obviously, it is not easy for those of good will around the world to subdue those bent on destruction and abuse of power, but we can and must prevail, each doing our part, however small, in our own lives.

From Susan Cushman – Mental Health Monday: Modern Art, Mandalas, and Origami

http://susancushman.com/mental-health-monday-modern-art-mandalas-and-origami/

While I am busy helping out family and catching up on things, I am blessed to have great blogger-friends with wisdom to share. I hope you will enjoy Susan’s wonderful post on the place that visual arts can take in a writer’s life.

This post reminds me of my friend Yvonne, who is a visual artist and spritiual companion and has done so much to give others opportunities to express themselves through the arts. And of my friend Chrstine who is about a decade older than Susan but who also loves to color and share spiritually with friends and family. And of my daughter Trinity who loves origami, especially making cranes and birds, and has gifted many people with origami she has made.

When the Circle of Life Feels More Like a Box

A beautiful reflection on grief and friendship from a high school friend who has recently begun blogging.

jazzyjeweljude's avatarjazzyjeweljude

IMG_439808736277A dear friend of mine lost his mother this week. The moments of death & grief unfold unexpectedly yet predictably. That is, not knowing when or how they will arrive, they will come. And as a close friend who, as any of us do, wants to help ease the pain, I realize such skill doesn’t always easily come. And maybe it’s not suppose to. I can think of no more solitary journey than that of grief. Being surrounded by love, family and friends cannot, nor should it, alleviate that sacred walk along immortality and mortality, finite and infinite. Life and death. We all breathe it everyday, witness it ad nauseum through news media which desensitizes us with over sensationalism giving little to no regard for the sanctity of life and death. And the most difficult observation while grieving is the harsh realization that life around us marches on. How is…

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inclusion

This morning’s service was one of the most inclusive I have attended in a long time. I won’t name the church or the priest, who was a visitor, for his protection, as the freedom with which he treated the mass texts would land him in hot water with the bishop, although, interestingly, I doubt Pope Francis would bat an eye.

The gospel story (Mathew 15:21-28) was about the Canaanite woman who begs Jesus to save her daughter who is tormented by a demon. At first, Jesus ignores her and the disciples want her to be sent away, yet she persists in her request. Jesus finally says that he has come only for the children of Israel, that it isn’t right to throw the children’s food to the dogs. She answers that even the dogs eat the scraps from the master’s table and Jesus says that her daughter will be healed because of her faith.

I think, though, that what the woman exhibited more strongly than faith was maternal love. I’ve been in the situation of having a sick daughter and know what it feels like to pursue anyone or anything to help your child, even if you have to go against society’s norms to do so. A woman in that culture would not be permitted to approach and talk to a Jewish man, much less follow after him, calling out and begging, but she did it to save her beloved daughter.

In Matthew’s account of the story, even Jesus is a bit slow to recognize that God’s love is universal, that this woman and her daughter are as precious and valuable as Jewish persons are. The priest made this point clear, not only through his homily but also throughout all the prayers of the mass, weaving in references to God’s love for all beings and our own call to love and care for every person without regard to any difference of belief, ethnicity, race, body size, ability, or any other characteristic.

I so appreciated the message and the elegantly consistent way in which it was woven into the mass. That I knew that he, like the Canaanite woman, was bending the rules to do so, was a satisfying delight.

A tiny whispering sound

Today at church, we heard a reading from 1 Kings 19, in which Elijah is waiting for God to pass by. There are all manner of powerful signs – wind, earthquake, fire – but God is not in them, but in a tiny whispering sound that follows. We also sang the Quaker hymn “How Can I Keep from Singing” which emphasizes inner calm in the midst of storms and tumult.

Given that there is plenty of tumult in the world today – Iraq, Syria, Israel/Gaza, Ukraine, the ebola outbreak in west Africa, drought, wildfire, earthquakes, floods, storms of all sorts – and stress in my own life with my parents’ recent hospitalization and the impending move of my younger daughter as she begins grad school, I appreciated the reminder to listen for the voice of God in quiet ways.

Health care workers helping those in need of medical attention locally and around the world, a hand-made card and note for my parents from an artist friend who lives a floor below them, those working for peaceful resolution to conflicts, friends reaching out to ask how I am doing, those donating to feed the hungry, a visit from my sister and her husband, people sending out prayers for peace, healing, and strength.

The tiny whispering sounds of God and the movement of the Spirit passing by.