"Not One Stone Will Be Left Here..."
The Provocation to Love
Dear Friends,
Before we go any further, I want you to take a deep breath.
1…2…3…4…
And let it go.
1…2…3…4…
Check your jaw. Clenched? Let it go.
Drop your shoulders from up near your ears.
I can’t fix anything, but we can breathe together. We can find ways to be the light, but also ways to remember that, when we don’t feel up to it, that one candle can light another and the light is not diminished but it grows.
We have been here before – and I mean that in the most expansive possible way. Just look at this Sunday’s Gospel text.
Let Us Hold Fast
In the RCL, the entirety of the Gospel for this coming Sunday is as follows:
As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.” (Mark 13:1-8)
When I say that we have been here before, then, I mean that the People of God have been here before – countless times. That sense that this is ‘but the beginning of the birthpangs’ is not an unfamiliar one. But we are equipped with more than just forewarnings. We are also told how to counteract those forces that will mislead us.
As Paul writes in his letter to the Hebrews, also in this week’s lectionary,
Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching. (Hebrews 10:23-25)
Nation will rise against nation. Neighbor will turn against neighbor. But we are hope’s people, even when we don’t feel like it. And we are called to provoke each other to act in the spirit of goodness, rather than with barbs of spite. We are called to come together. Which brings me to one of my bright spots in the week since I last wrote you all.
Last Friday night, as I sat trying to push my brain through its current operational fog, my phone buzzed with a text. I’d had a quiet work week at my “main gig,” sending emails on Monday and Tuesday, coordinating bits and pieces. And one of the things I had coordinated, but which I had forgotten about until I received that text, was to have a few of our youth get together to cook for MANNA (Many Angels Needed Now and Always), the feeding ministry out of the Cathedral here in Boston. It was our parish’s week to provide for the Monday meal.
Now, to explain: we don’t have an active youth group. My job portfolio doesn’t specifically include youth ministry or programming. The families involved, when I was first working on coordination, were clear that late was better – and by late, they meant by Bird’s bedtime. But my job isn’t to physically be there, it’s to support things our youth may feel called to do – and when I started scheduling and sending emails, I didn’t know how much I would need to know that a group of young people were cooking for our unhoused neighbors this past Friday night, that they they were being good neighbors in a simple way at a moment when it felt as though the whole world was turning away from the vulnerable.
It is easy to be preoccupied by the doom and pain. And we do need to pay attention to that. We cannot wave our hands about and pretend nothing is happening. We cannot change the world by ignoring it.
Look around. Where do you see people acting as good neighbors, reaching out a hand in kindness? How can you join them, provoking others to love?
Hold Fast to the Confession of Our Hope
Now, about feeling our feelings.
I am bad at this. Which, to be clear, is more the autism than anything else. I can make some educated guesses at what I’m feeling, but that’s not really the same thing. Which is why I want to offer you Jen Willhoite’s “Letting the Darkness Tend to Us,” which was one of the blessings that arrived by email in my life this week. She’s also recorded it as audio here. It is a welcome reminder that “we need sacred time for tending to our broken hearts, our worn bodies, and our displaced souls.”
Another one of the things that landed in my inbox this week that felt like “just enough” in that particular way was this set of reflections on Being the Light from Faith + Family Collective. These are fitting simply from the perspective of approaching Advent and that season of awaiting the light, but the first activity, which invites us to walk by flashlight and to notice – the homes, the mailboxes, the garbage cans – and pray for the people those things signify, can also connect us to those around us. It’s a practice that can help us see how interwoven we all are.
Godly Play also offered us a blessing for this time. We opened a recent meeting with it - I hope you’ll go listen to it.
Consider this your “resource round-up” this week.
Now, take another breath.
Let it out.
Watch the glitter fall. Invite a child to watch it with you.
Maybe you want to make your own.
We can embrace the balance – being with our grief and continuing to look for hope.
And we keep breathing.
Peace, Perfect Peace,
Bird