Saturday, April 27, 2024

Listening With The Universe April 28, 2024

A Reflection about Dreams:                                                                 April 28, 2024

Unitarian Universalist Congregation. of the Outer Banks.           Thomas E Wilson, Guest Speaker

                                                                 Listening with the Universe

Scripture Lessons for reflection:

Ezekiel. Chapter 37: 1-14

Some time later, I felt the Lord's power take control of me, and his Spirit carried me to a valley full of bones. The Lord showed me all around, and everywhere I looked I saw bones that were dried out. He said, “Ezekiel, son of man, can these bones come back to life?” I replied, “Lord God, only you can answer that.”

He then told me to say: Dry bones, listen to what the Lord is saying to you, “I, the Lord God, will put breath in you, and once again you will live. I will wrap you with muscles and skin and breathe life into you. Then you will know that I am the Lord.”

I did what the Lord said, but before I finished speaking, I heard a rattling noise. The bones were coming together! I saw muscles and skin cover the bones, but they had no life in them.

The Lord said: Ezekiel, now say to the wind, “The Lord God commands you to blow from every direction and to breathe life into these dead bodies, so they can live again.”

As soon as I said this, the wind blew among the bodies, and they came back to life! They all stood up, and there were enough to make a large army.

The Lord said: Ezekiel, the people of Israel are like dead bones. They complain that they are dried up and that they have no hope for the future. So tell them, “I, the Lord God, promise to open your graves and set you free. I will bring you back to Israel, and when that happens, you will realize that I am the Lord. My Spirit will give you breath, and you will live again. I will bring you home, and you will know that I have kept my promise. I, the Lord, have spoken.

AND

Revelation 22: 1-5

Then the angel showed me a river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the main street of the city. On either side of the river stood a tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit and yielding a fresh crop for each month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be within the city, and His servants will worship Him. They will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night in the city, and they will have no need for the light of a lamp or of the sun. For the Lord God will shine on them, and they will reign forever and ever.

AND

[Remember, O Muhammad], when Allah showed them to you in your dream as few; and if He had shown them to you as many, you [believers] would have lost courage and would have disputed in the matter [of whether to fight], but Allah saved [you from that]. Indeed, He is Knowing of that within the breasts.  [Quran, 8:43]

Our language is full of signs, symbols and images For instance: when you see the Letters “MD” that is a sign that the name attached is a Doctor of Medicine. I have as part of my identification the Letters for M.Div. “Master of Divinity”. Can you imagine any other title so absurd to prance around and proclaim the absurd notion that “I AM A Master of Divinity!”, as if the Divine is my pet. It actually means that I am a religious person who studied theology- “Theo”, Greek word for God and “Logos” Greek word for words and passed the courses. M.D. and M.DIV. , are signs that help you to know that if you want to talk about God or the subtle differences between Unitarians and Universalistes, most MD's will not be able to help you. If you want to talk about Kidney Problems you are not going to be helped much by a M. Div.

Images are pictures that refer to something beyond itself; and you can know what it means if you know what the image means. For instance the image of a Capital U which has the Capital Letter S superimposed on the U with the bottom of the U erased mans we ware referring to a matter of currency in the United States, it is a image denoting a value.

Signs“ and “Images “are not symbols for they only denote the objects to which they attached

Symbols are terms, names, or even pictures that may be familiar in daily life, yet which possesses meaning, unconscious or preconscious meaning, and refers to something that has a variety beyond simple explanation. For instance X is a letter in the alphabet. But is also can be used as “X makes the spot”, or meaning an unknown whose meaning or value needs to be derived, or denoting a thing of value. If you tip the X 90 degrees then is becomes a cross, a meeting; a vertical and horizontal , originally separate from each other, but by its intersection is held in dynamic tension.

The Christian faith took the cross as its symbol; it can mean the cross on which it's hero died, or it can refer to the dynamic of the human and divine held in dynamic tension, or it can mean a meeting place if it is put on a building, of it can mean the middle of a target, or it can mean a burden you have to carry because of your own unworthiness or your holiness. Symbols are signs that have multiple meanings and symbols are the pre-conscious and unconscious center of understanding dreams.

Dreams are gifts given to each of us to try to figure out what is going on in our lives. Many religious traditions see meaning in dreams; Joseph Campbell said. “Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths” Some faiths dismiss dreams; for instance the Buddha does not dream because the Buddha is the Awake One and does not sleep. For Buddhists, dreams are filled with images that are empty and false, BUT if properly understood, as Buddhist teacher Sangharakshita said: “If you want to really know yourself, pay attention to your dreams.” In tension, is the Rev. Heng Sure, a Buddhist Monk who relates

Perhaps the Buddhist approach to dreams is identical with the path to understanding the purpose of waking life: transforming ignorance by the brilliant sword of Prajna wisdom. We must wake up from our “dream within a dream,” before we can know that we are actually sleeping through our lives. After awakening there is no need to dream any longer.

Jewish and Christians understanding of their faith puts a lot of energy and witness to see God speaking through dreams as interpretations for the past, present and future. St. Augustine saw dreams as a preview of the afterlife where the soul separates fro the body.

In the three lessons we had for today, We see the readers of the Abrahamic Holy Books seeing dreams from their God as giving them strength in the days to come. The Ezekiel story is about having hope in the middle of what seems like an impossible situation. The Jewish people kept the dream story because they saw their People come back from exile. The Reading from the Quran is a time when Muhammad had a dream that his band would be able to crush what they thought was a smaller foe. However, the opposing army was much larger; but they attributed the dream to giving them so much energy that when the larger army showed up, the Prophet's army had so much energy that they did the impossible. They acknowledge if they had been filled with fear, they would have lost. The reading from the Book of Revelation relates a dream that there is a future that they are moving forward towards. All three of the lessons are the same dream motif as the Rev. Dr. Luther King's “I Have A Dream Speech” relying on the arc of Divine Justice.

Carl Gustav Jung, a Swiss Psychologist, a friend and then a critic of Sigmund Friend, practiced in the late 19th to the middle of the of the 20th century. Freud believed that dreams were ways of dealing with problems and wish fulfillment. For instance if you are a boy and want to marry a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad, that speaks to some issues that may need to address if you want to grow up or at least get rid of incestuous thoughts and penis envy. Freud believed that girls did not have that kind of relationships with their father, only boys. Freud was about how we learn to grow up and become adults taking our roles seriously and unconscious thoughts need to be exposed as fantasies. Dreams in Freud's view were secrets meant to be kept secret unless shared with a therapist.

Jung believed that we humans were like ships sailing on an ocean of unconscious and pre-conscious material. The task is how we are able to sail using this material for a richer life. Dreams form a great deal of that material, and coming to creative interaction with these elements make for good sailing through life. He wrote:

“The art of interpreting dreams cannot be learnt from books.

Methods and rules are good only when we can get along without them.

Only the man (sic., he was a product of his time as well) who can do it anyway has real skill, only the man of understanding really understands.

No one who does not know himself can know others.

And in each of us there is another whom we do not know.

He speaks to us in dreams and tells us how differently he sees us from the way we see ourselves.

When, therefore, we find ourselves in a difficult situation to which there is no solution, he can sometimes kindle a light that radically alters our attitude—the very attitude that led us into the difficult situation”. ~Carl Jung, CW 10, Page 325.

Dreams needed to be paid attention to:

We also live in our dreams, we do not live only by day. Sometimes we accomplish our greatest deeds in dreams.. . . It is only in modern times that the dream, this fleeting and insignificant looking product of the Psyche, has met with profound contempt.

Formerly it had been esteemed as a harbinger of Fate, a portent and comforter, a messenger from the Gods. Now we see it as an emissary of the unconscious, whose task it is to reveal the secrets that are hidden from the conscious mind, and that is done with astounding completeness.”

Jung quotes Aeschylus; “When we sleep the soul is lit up completely by many eyes: with them we can see everything that we could not see in the daytime.” By this the dream is being regarded as a truth telling oracle.

Jung says: “The unconscious is the dark within that our conscious eyes do not perceive . . . We only become aware of this unheard hearing, the unseen seeing; when the unconscious send us there unconscious images in dreams.”

If you have time I would suggest that you take 17 minutes and watch a good introduction into Jungian thought about dreams by going on line and view “Carl Jung And The Psychology of Dream – Messages from the Unconscious” https://carljungdepthpsychologysite.blog/2022/05/08/dreams-cannot-be/

Until I met Pat, my view of dreams were not to be shared with other people unless you were in therapy, because they were often strange. She had this habit of being open with me. I was a Priest and I limited the number of people with whom I was open. She was involved in several Spiritual Growth experiences but I would go off on silent retreats. I had been a therapist and had listened to to many people tell me what was going on in their lives. Sometimes, some one would want to share a dream; I would listen and then I would ask; “Thank you but can you tell me what your dream is saying about your real life”. Often it meant to them that the person, “she” for men had not shared any dreams with me, would say it had to do with how unhappy she was.

Pat had been involved in several spiritual growth groups and she heard about the Haden Dream Work Conference. She dragged me with her, and she and I got hooked at sharing dreams with each other. I trusted her enough to share. We went to the Group Dream Work Leader Training that went on for two years. The first book we used was Bob Haden's book “Unopened Letters From God.” Bob, an Episcopal Priest and Spiritual Director, said that God was sending letters every night to us in the form of dreams and one of the ways to grow spirituality is to open those dreams to see what God might be saying to us. We considered Bob a friend and he died about a year ago, two months before Pat died. Half way through our training, we put together Dream groups at the churches I served. Pat did a Women's group and I did a men's group. In our training there were almost as many men as there were women. She was a perfect leader. I had to deal with men. Women share their dreams in non judgmental ways, which was the plan. Without women to break up the free-floating testosterone in the room, I had men who wanted to have the “Right” answer on what the dream meant. Her women listened and shared and my men competed, on who had the biggest . . . and best . . . idea. I got tired of that, but Pat and I could share with each other.

When Pat got sick, she no longer had the energy to go to the meetings and when she died, I was asked if I could take her place. I have had to relearn that I was no longer a therapist and fix “people”, in this situation, I could only help the group by listening and sharing. Like Pat would have done.

In the group, members bring the dreams that they wish to share. The way the meeting would go is we would start off with how things are doing in their life since we last met. “All may, some should, none must”. Then we would randomly find out who would share, and if we had time who else would share. If a person had a dream , we would ask them the title of the dream, like “A Salami Sandwich left too long in the refrigerator”, We would vote on who would go first to make sure no one person dominates. The person would turn her back, to avoid eye contact. She would read, or tell the story she had written down in her dream book. The group would listen in silence, they would be free to take notes. After the telling, we would thank her for sharing – sharing is a gift not an obligation.. The group would ask questions for clarification like: “What color, or model. was the car ?” “Is this person connected to you in any way” “Tell me about the roadway.” and the group would thank her. They were not to analyzing the dream. Then the person would read the dream again. Then, the person would be asked if we could share the dream with the members; meaning that each member of the group could share, if they wished- “all may, some should, none must” that if the dream had been their dream; this is the message I would have heard. The dream remains her dream, all the other members of the group are offered the opportunity that if it were their dream, this is what they would understand as a message. The person is thanked for sharing; the person would turn back their to the group and if she wants to, she can share some insights she got through the group's understanding. “All may, some should, none must.”

There is no one “correct” answer, there is only the sharing with people who promise to listen with each other. This is not therapy; it is a community of care. I see it as what a church is meant to be; a called out assembly, gathered together, who are aware of the sacred space between them.

People tell me that they have a hard time remembering their dreams. The biggest problem is that the first thing we tend to do when we awaken is to open our eyes and think about all the damn stuff that needs to be done today. One way around that, is to think about writing or recording a few words about the dream you had before you start planning the day. Take care of the night first - before you go blundering into the day.. Give it a title as a memory help to fill in. My problem right now is that when I wake up, I notice that Pat is not in the bed with me and I start mourning again and feeling sorry for myself by throwing a pity party. Pat would have hated that. I need to wake up facing a note book. Many of the dreams I could remember in this time was in the dream to have someone else in the bed with me. Those dreams usually ended disastrously for me as the dream me. Dreams are not morals police; dreams are here for our healing and they use images that get us to pay attention. I believe it was my spirit warning me that my healing is going to take time; there are no shortcuts.

How you do your dreams is up to you. “All may, some should, none must!”










  

 

 

 

 

 

 


Saturday, April 20, 2024

Walking The 23rd Psalm

A Reflection for the 4th Sunday of Easter                               The Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC

April 21, 2024                                                                         Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant/Preacher

Walking the 23rd Psalm

First of all I need to start with an apology. I got confused and did not show up here last week. It was pure sloth that I did not check the schedule enough. I had gone to the local church's early service in Nags Head and quietly sitting at home when your Senior Warden called me and asked me if I was on the way. I confessed that I was more than an hour and a half away from the church. He pointed out that he had indeed sent me a schedule. I apologized, but the guilt really got going when I found the note in the depths of my computer. So, what I will do now is to go through an exercise of doing as I say and not always what I do. If you want to , in the middle of my reflection, you are forgiven ahead of time if you do the old trick of putting your fist to your mouth as if you were about to cough and expel, the word: “Sinner!” In all of my years as a combination of Professional Saint and Private Sinner, I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to remind people of their failings, but you have a free shot; and you would be right.


Having said that; now what do we do? How do we live together after having exchanged disappointments with each other? Since I am not your full time Rector, you are free to discharge me and not call on me again. However, I am already signed up for five more Sundays until the end of June. Therefore, we may need to find a way to live together during that time. The lessons for today suggest that we come together as fellow sheep in the same flock with the same Shepherd; the Lord is our shepherd. And he walks with us, as we have become his body.


I am reminded of that old Baptist Hymn, with apologies to C. Austin Miles, which I have adapted:

We come to the garden together,
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice we hear, falling on our ears,
The Son of God discloses.

Refrain:
And He walks with us, and He talks with us,
And He tells us we are His own,
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
All others can always know.

I came across a quote by Frederick Buechner:

The earliest reference to the Resurrection is Saint Paul’s, and he makes no mention of an empty tomb at all. But the fact of the matter is that, in a way, it hardly matters how the body of Jesus came to be missing, because in the last analysis, what convinced the people that he had risen from the dead was not the absence of his corpse but his living presence. And so, it has been ever since.”— initially published in The Faces of Jesus. 


The 23rd Psalm is one of those Psalms which we learn early in our lives. When I was much younger, about 70 years ago, I went to a Vacation Bible School, between the 2nd and 3rd grade, where we all were to learn the 23rd Psalm. I learned to memorize it. Note, that I did not say I understood it; I just committed it to memory so I could parrot it on cue. My prize for this feat was a plastic, green , glow in the dark, figure of Jesus. For the next ten years the plastic, green glow in the dark, figure of Jesus was on a desk next to my bed. It was there every night I went to bed. It was glowing each night when I turned off the light and slipped under my bed covers in the dark, entering indeed the valley of the shadow. While complying with the parental rule that my light was to be off, I would take my crystal radio set that I had put together to listen to the devil's music of Rock and Roll over an ear piece. Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley were not conducive to being in still waters. When it was time to really sleep, I would turn off the set and say the 23rd Psalm before fully entering into the shadows of death.


There were some nights, especially Sunday night, when the crystal set would be tuned to the late night fire and brimstone preachers, who would remind me what a sinner in the hands of an angry God I was. On those nights I would turn off the set and and, looking at my desk, the last image I had was of the loving shepherd glowing in the dark.


When it came time to go to college, I packed up my stuff , but left the crystal radio set and the Good Shepherd statue, figuring I had to give up childish things. I no longer needed a plastic Jesus, and the new clock radio would wake me up so I would not miss class. But I never was able to get rid of the Psalm I had memorized. I would find times when it would return from the past to give me hope and comfort. When my father was dying, in his truly Valley of the Shadow, I said it over and over again, to myself. I could not really say that I really believed in God at the time, I assumed that God was a myth I could live without, but the prayers never left me.


I got married the day after college graduation and when 2 weeks later, I returned to the family home to be best man at my older brother's wedding, I cleared out all of my stuff, dumping the crystal set and glowing Jesus into my younger brother's pile.


I no longer needed a plastic Jesus. But I never was able to get rid of the Psalm I had memorized. I would find times when it would return from the past to give me hope and comfort. When this Jesus stuff started to make sense in my life as an adult; I was glad that old friend had stayed with me.


Robert Frost said, “A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a home-sickness or a love-sickness.” The 23rd Psalm is poetry beginning with a longing for home; using words that have different and expansive meanings. I do not know Hebrew, but I steal from the best. For today, I am stealing from “The Shepherd and the Exegetes: Hermeneutics, Through the Lens of Psalm 23.” by Richard A. Davidson, a Seventh Day Adventist at Andrews University in Michigan.


Davidson relates that in the Hebrew, the word “shepherd” is the same word that one would use for “friend”. Jesus then opens up to be more than this big guy with a couple sticks, but a friend who wants the best for me. I had an Australian friend who said whenever he heard the word “shepherd”, he always envisioned a man on horseback with a whip cracking and yelling at the dumb sheep. Over the years, Jesus became for me a friend who loved me and was there to walk with me, wherever I went.


He would be with me as we went into beautiful, pleasant places. The Hebrew word for “Pastures” is also the same world for a “pleasant place of beauty.” The “pleasant places of beauty” that I see the best is when I see that the space between people being filled with love and forgiveness. I have hopes of seeing that whenever I go to church. I don't always find it, especially when people are trying to win rather than love; but I keep looking. Hope is always there for entering a place where the waters are not stirred up for battle, but are calmed, “stilled”, for a time to refresh, to hope, to have my “nephesh”, the Hebrew word for the very being of life, the soul, restored, brought back to full life again.


My friend takes me by the paths, not the narrow dangerous rocky treacherous mountain paths of the wilderness, but the Hebrew word for “paths” usually means wide wagon roads. The shepherd is not there to test me, but to show me the right and wide, well worn paths to take. I have to pay attention of one step at a time that so many have taken before..


The “Valley of the Shadow of death” is the place of deep darkness. It is where my own small light of the crystal radio set is not strong enough. I know that there will be a time when I will die and I trust the light, that my friend is, is on this road. On this road, I have a friend who wants the best for me. It is in those dark places that my friend will feed me the nourishment I need, preparing a table. Not only nourishing me but the healing oil of his love pours over me, not just a touch on the forehead, but a gentle flow of love cascading and claiming me. I used to have red hair and when I was a child, I would stay out on the beach too long and my mother, and later when I did it when I was older, my wife, would apply the healing ointment all over my back. It was a gift of love.


I remember when my daughter was a baby and I would give her a bath, dry her softly and then add oil on her dry skin. The bath was a gift of necessity to remove the dirt of the past; but the oil was a gift of hope for the future.


The Hebrew word for “follow” the paths can also mean “pursue” the paths; it is about commitment to go into new days. I don't think that the 23rd Psalm was there for us to see that Jesus lived the 23rd Psalm, but to be for us a path that we might take as regular dog faced people in living our lives. It is not that Jesus keeps reminding us of our sins, but lovingly walks with us, one step at a time, one day at a time.


In the first of John's Epistles we hear the author say today: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us-- and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?”


To believe in Christ is not something we do in our heads or reciting doctrine, it is something we do with our whole body; one step at a time by getting involved in this complex world. We are not meant to be observers of life, or judges of the paths of others; but to be followers of the living Christ, bringing healing and wholeness into the dark places of the life of our neighbor, and to allow others to minister to us in our own dark places. We are not meant to be mere listeners of the Gospel but to be ministers of Christ's love to this broken world. Salvation is not about getting into the Big Country Club in the sky after we die, but in living fully into each moment of Christ's ministry in us to bring healing into this world.


I usually, having Frost's lump in my throat as I begin writing my reflection, try to write a poem to help me to narrow things down in that reflection , but today I depend on a poem attributed to St. Teresa of Avila, a sixteenth century mystic, nun and reformer. A handwritten copy of this poem/prayer has not been found in her collections of writings but it was attributed to her for the last 5 centuries


Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.


Saturday, April 6, 2024

“In Community, By Our Wounds We Are Healed.”

A Reflection for the 2nd Sunday of Easter                                  Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, N.C.

May 5, 2024                                                                                Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant

Acts 4:32-35                 1 John 1:1-2:2                  John 20:19-31                      Psalm 133

“In Community, By Our Wounds We Are Healed.”

In today's Gospel lesson, the Disciple Thomas, nicknamed “Doubting”, has avoided the first meeting of the community after the Crucifixion. It is a old truth; without participation in community; it is hard to believe anything second hand. Thomas discounts the witness of the other disciples and believes that his misguided friends are just victims of a mass hallucination. After all he, like them, ran for their lives leaving Jesus in the lurch. He comes to the second meeting, filled with shame, but covering those wounds of shame with sneering condemnation of the other disciples. Jesus faces doubting Thomas and Thomas's lack of faith, by showing him Jesus' own wounds. The wounds are shown but without blame of guilt. By Jesus's wounds, Thomas's wounds are healed.

When people disappoint us and we are wounded by their action or inaction; we tend to hold on to our wounds, in the hopes that the person who let us down will suffer. There is something that seems fulfilling in holding a grudge, because holding on to the wound keeps the guilt. Mary Oliver wrote a short poem that could be about this process;

When did it happen?
“It was a long time ago.”

Where did it happen?
“It was far away.”

No, tell. Where did it happen?
“In my heart.”

What is your heart doing now?
“Remembering. Remembering!”

If it is a beautiful, grace filled memory, hold on to it in your heart, but if it is a memory full of hurt, anger, guilt or shame; then we need to ask God's help to move it from your heart to the garbage of vague memory of long ago events which you have asked Divine help in forgiving. Forgiveness is meant to heal the wounds; the wounds that were given to us; especially the wounds that that our guilt wants us to hold onto.

The 1st Lesson from the book of Acts has the Jesus community face their fears and move into a new sense of community without fear. No one denies that Jesus had wounds, but he refuses to blame the people for his wounds. He refuses to give them wounds of blame; he forgives them before they ask. Nothing gets in the way of love Their wounds are so healed that they are able to create a new community where they share what they have with each other. By Jesus' wounds the community begins to be healed into a new reality. Nothing gets in the way of Love.

They would gather and sometimes sing the psalm of Thanksgiving we said for today:

1 Oh, how good and pleasant it is, *
when brethren live together in unity!

2 It is like fine oil upon the head *
that runs down upon the beard,

3 Upon the beard of Aaron, *
and runs down upon the collar of his robe.

4 It is like the dew of Hermon *
that falls upon the hills of Zion.

5 For there the Lord has ordained the blessing: *
life for evermore.

To live in unity with our neighbor means they we can forgive them and ourselves and let love fill the space between neighbors. There is a poem by late 16th and early 17th Century English Divine, George Herbert, called Love about the barriers we put in the way of grace:

LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
            Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
    From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
            If I lack’d anything.

‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’
            Love said, ‘You shall be he.’
‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
            I cannot look on Thee.’
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
            ‘Who made the eyes but I?’

‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame
            Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’
            ‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’
            So I did sit and eat.


Pat's daughter, Gretchen, my step-daughter, sent me a message recorded I think on her daughter-in-law's phone showing her grandson, Alastair, in his bed talking with his father, Gretchen's son, about the tornado that was lashing their area in Oklahoma, The storm was frightening, but Alastair's father was sitting next to his son in bed and telling him that he was not alone. He opened the blinds so Alastair could see the storm and he calmly ministered to him to trust that they could get through this storm. There is no guilt or shame; Alistair was was not berated for his fear, but it was lovingly acknowledged, and from that love he was given strength to face the next storm, after all it is Oklahoma, and have strength to face the next one with cautious optimism and respect for nature. In Loving Community with his father, Alistair's wounds were healed to become memories of strength.

Thirty some years ago, my one year and four days older than I brother, Paul was facing a crisis. He was handsome, voted so by his Senior class in High School. He was athletic, which I was not. He was a chick magnet, which I was not.. After he got out of the Maine Corps he went to college and made much better grades than I did as an Undergraduate. I was so envious of him. He got married, and in his third marriage, they had some beautiful children. He made money in the jobs he had, but he just could not put his life together. He turned to alcohol to fix the problem, but that made it worse. I tried to help but he pushed me aside He had wounds; but he would not allow them to be healed or faced. One night he committed suicide. My mother and his wife pushed me to do his service and his boys stayed with Pat and I for the summer. Both of the boys would later go into treatment for their own addiction. They are now facing their wounds in years of recovery and thriving in life, happily married (Old Uncle Tom did their weddings). They are active in their churches, have happy children. Through their faith, they faced their wounds and with God's help were healed, but as they say, “Just for today.”

My brother's death shook me, and I volunteered to do volunteer Chaplaincy work at a Drug and Alcohol treatment center in the community in which I was a Priest. I continued to do Volunteer work sporadically in the next two parishes, even after I retired until Pat got sick and I was needed more at home. What happens in recovery is that addicts come together to participate in community of fellow addicts, some of whom are still recovering and all who face the fact that while they have done lousy things; yet they are still beloved by a power greater than themselves. Healing begins when the addict realizes that he, or she, has to take responsibility without being shamed into inaction. They have to learn that wounds are real, but so is healing. One step at a time.

One of the things that happened this last week was that I was invited to join a family at a Easter Brunch. I did not know some of the people, but we shared stories about our lives over the Brunch. We shared stories of Thanksgiving about the wounds our ancestors, in Slovenia, Slovakia, Ireland, Scotland, Pasquotank County, Ohio, or wherever, had in coming to this country or we had in coming to this community. There were so many wounds and so much healing. Easter is like that; by their, ours or His, wounds, we are healed.

I am retired now, and I do not need to go to church to put food on the table. I come to church because I have wounds and I come for healing by His, and your, wounds. That is what community is all about.

The true work of this Church of the Holy Trinity is not to prance around doing the “just right” liturgy by shaming sinners, but to bring healing and forgiveness to this community of Hertford. One of the High Points for me in every service is in announcement time, there is a need expressed, a wound in the fabric of this town that needs to be addressed and I saw you respond out of His Wounds: so the community's wounds might be healed; one day at a time, just for today, and on every blessed day. For in Him, every day is blessed.

Today we have communion for all who are invited, we urge each one of us to come as an outward and visible sign that we are tired of dragging around our wounds and we hear the invitation in George Herbert poem “Love”:

‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’
            So I did sit and eat.