Harvey . . . Charlottesville . . . DACA . . . Irma . . . Western US Forest Fires* . . . SE Asia floods . . . earthquake/tsunami in Mexico . . . and more . . .
The chaplain at my daughter's college characterizes this string of events as a "thick time". What an apt image! I think of how I feel while riding a bike on a hard surface and then finding myself in mud, mud sometimes so thick I have to dismount in order to not fall over. These last few days and weeks have that same sense about them. Just about the time I think I'm about ready to get on "pavement" again, something else happens, and forward momentum is arrested.
Another image that arises for me is that of "exile", being uprooted from one's familiar, safe, surroundings and transplanted, against one's will, into a foreign land. And, when thinking of THAT image, Psalm 137 springs to mind:
The chaplain at my daughter's college characterizes this string of events as a "thick time". What an apt image! I think of how I feel while riding a bike on a hard surface and then finding myself in mud, mud sometimes so thick I have to dismount in order to not fall over. These last few days and weeks have that same sense about them. Just about the time I think I'm about ready to get on "pavement" again, something else happens, and forward momentum is arrested.
Another image that arises for me is that of "exile", being uprooted from one's familiar, safe, surroundings and transplanted, against one's will, into a foreign land. And, when thinking of THAT image, Psalm 137 springs to mind:
By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,
when we remembered you, O Zion.
As for our harps, we hung them up
on the trees in the midst of the land.
For those who led us away captive asked us for a song,
and our oppressors called for mirth:
"Sing us one of the songs of Zion."
How shall we sing the Lord's song
upon an alien soil?
when we remembered you, O Zion.
As for our harps, we hung them up
on the trees in the midst of the land.
For those who led us away captive asked us for a song,
and our oppressors called for mirth:
"Sing us one of the songs of Zion."
How shall we sing the Lord's song
upon an alien soil?
I sometimes feel, these days, that I am "upon an alien soil" and cannot find any reason or energy to sing ANY kind of song. And I know many others who feel the same way.
It is at times like these that we very much need community. While an instinct might be to "go to my room and pull the covers over my head" or simply to lose myself in busy-ness, instead I really benefit from being around people (even as an introvert!). The community that experienced exile in Babylon clearly supported one another, and, as a community they emerged changed and stronger. I believe the same is true for those of us experiencing "exile" in our own time and place. (With apologies to The Beatles) "We'll get by with a little help from our friends."**
Namasté
Gary
* The photo above is of the Columbia River Gorge; I grew up there. The fire is the Eagle Creek Fire; I hiked and camped there. I'm afraid to return, to see what's become of that beautiful place.
** An opportunity to gather with folks wishing to find and share hope with each other will be offered at DU on Sept 20. See the announcement on the Events page of Religious & Spiritual LIfe's website..
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