Dear Saints,
I have mentioned before my sadness that a seemingly perfectly healthy maple tree on our property on Church street (outside the chain-link fence near the H/C entrance) is now dead. I also mentioned in a previous sermon that while the tree is dead, a morning glory took up residence and had been putting forth beautiful purple flowers daily. Same again, this year. Out of death comes new life.
The dead tree is still there, but there are two new things I’d like to share with you. The first is that our very clever Memorials committee has come up with the idea to remove the dead tree and plant a new tree (flowering or otherwise) in its place, along with a memorial plaque honoring those who died Covid. That idea is super creative, purposeful, and tender-hearted, and I know that we (as well as everyone in the neighborhood) will be blessed when they walk by it and see the new tree and the dedication.
In the meanwhile, we’ll have to wait and look at that sad tree…or so I thought.
A few Sunday mornings ago, when I was coming through the H/C along with our weekly lay reader, we noticed a vine growing on the other side of the H/C entrance. It was hard to tell what kind of vine it was, and the leaves looked similar but not identical to the Morning Glory (which returned this year!)
This past Sunday as I was leaving church, I looked more closely at the new vine which is now on both sides of the entrance and have intermingled with the morning glory. I was blown away. The new mystery vine was growing green beans! This may not seem like anything more than a ‘gift’ from a bird, but many of you may remember that in 2018, we took dried beans and stuck them into a pot of soil as an Ash Wednesday ritual.
Eventually, I moved the pot outside to take it back home but kept procrastinating. By June, we had beans! They were likely growing when we were away from the sanctuary last year but they are back again this year to remind us: God’s activity always is in motion, especially when we can’t see it or aren’t even looking.
John of the Cross calls this “oscura”. The literal translation in Italian/Spanish is ‘dark’, but John used it from the Latin meaning “hidden and incomprehensible”. John felt that this was part of what he called the “Dark Night of the Soul”, when God’s activity is hidden, but our experience is desolation (feeling as if God is absent).
Now more than ever, we need reminding that God’s activity continues even as we struggle to reconvene in worship, ministry, and fellowship. We need reminding that God’s activity continues as we seek to recover from all of what Covid has paused, damaged, and changed.
For centuries the advice from Spiritual Directors and the desert Mothers/Fathers before them is that when we feel lost and distant from God, return to nature. Here’s the proof of what I’m talking about.
Seeking God’s activity and future with you,
Jen