A Song For My Beloved

A Reflection for Sunday, Proper 17 C Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant October 17, 2025 Grace, Plymouth, and St. Luke/St. Anne, Roper, NC, A Song For My Beloved Isaiah 5:1-7 Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18 Hebrews 11:29-12:2 Luke 12:49-56 A Prayer from the Gospel of Luke: "Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work, and to follow daily in the blessed steps of his most holy life;” Following Jesus is not about trying to get into heaven as a reward, but about living one day at a time as if each moment ss filled with the strength of the Divine presence. It is not about going to church, but about seeing the holy in the middle of each day in the space between each of us. The writer of the Book of Hebrews calls this living of one day at a time:“Faith” Faith is not a series of theological propositions that we intellectually hold on to, but an awareness that each moment is filled with the Holy. We do not know how each moment is going to turn out; it is not about walking down a Wizard of Oz”s “Yellow Brick Road”, but faithfully walking one step at a time as if love for the other was the reason we live faithfully in this life This last week was Pat, my beloved wife’s, birthday. We were married in 1989 and she died a little over two years ago. Both of us had been divorced before and we knew only too well how to poison a marriage. However, we learned from our mistakes and, leaving the past behind us, we entered into the happiest times of our lives. Before we entered into that relationship, my sermons were usually about the need for you people to shape up. After we began a relationship and then got married, I usually switched to preaching about the need for us people to cherish one another. One of the aspects of our love was the need for us always speaking the truth to one another. There were times when we needed to remind ourselves that my profession as a Priest was secondary to my being her husband and lover. However, she was very honest about my gifts as a Preacher and when she would sit out in the congregation, she was not at all shy after the service as we drove back home about pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of my attempts. I could hear her because I knew underneath every word she spoke was her love of, and hopes for, me. In the Lesson from Isaiah, the prophet speaks the hard truth to his people out of love for them, He says things that are very difficult for them to hear about their future. In the same way, when Pat started to get word from her Doctors about what was happening to her body and the scope of her illnesses, we were able to enter into a home Hospice program where, with their help, like in the passage from Isaiah for this week, we cared for each other and spoke the truth to each other. Love is not about being right, but about sharing sacred space with one another through the good, and bad, times in our life together. Being a prophet of doom is easy, if it is without love. However, can you hear the love and pain in the words of this prophet? There is no joy for him in being right. When you love someone, you tell them the truth, because lies come from fear not love. Lies, which we are tempted to use, are attempts to control and manipulate when we are afraid of the future. Love is not grounded in the hope for everything being peachy keen, or having necessarily Hollywood Happy endings. The central core of our faith is about redemption; Jesus did not hide from the cross, he placed his life in the hope of redemption. It is the truth, not lies, no matter how much we want to control things: truth is what sets us free. Poem:                         A Song For My Beloved Then my hand touched your hand, "That is so nice!" I said to my brain. After a while, I want to touch again, I, marveling at what was so grand. While it is so ordinary, it was you, Who was touching me, I thought What have I done to deserve not, Except, it was not really my due, Rather one gift given out of loves, Long before it was ever earned, Touching, it was my soul burned, As if by songs of mourning doves. Faith says there'll be another time, Or place where we'll find a rhyme,