Beryl's Blog: The Lord is my Shepherd

I stand looking out my kitchen window and realize that, as February winds down and I am become even more weary of winter in general, my thoughts are turning to comfort food.  Home made macaroni and cheese, hearty vegetable stew with dumplings, bread pudding – the food of my childhood – a time when I felt protected, secure and loved.

This week, thoughts of comfort and well being brought to mind the 23rd Psalm.

Psalm 23 is one of the most popular and beloved psalms in the Bible. We often hear it recited at church, but it is also one of the most requested readings at funerals.

Psalm 23, believed to be written by King David, is more than just a beautiful piece of poetry.  Before David became king of Israel, he was a shepherd. He took care of and protected flocks of sheep, and he wrote this psalm describing God as a shepherd and God’s people as God’s flock. Through this beautiful metaphor, we are given invaluable insight into the character of God.

Like all psalms, Psalm 23 was used in worship by the ancient Hebrews. The writer describes God as his shepherd, in the role of protector and provider. The psalm is read, recited and sung by Jews and Christians alike and has been called the best-known of the psalms for its universal theme of trust in God.

For me, its most poignant reading comes from the King James version:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

This week, our theme for worship at both the Champlain and the Floralies was the 23rd Psalm.  After worship, we ended with a benediction which I would now like to share with you.

May you always know that you are in the fold of the Good Shepherd.

May you lie down in the green pastures of restfulness.

May you drink deeply from the still waters of peace and love.

May you dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  Amen.

In peace,

Beryl

Beryl's Blog: Compassion

I am an animal and bird lover.  In the country, you would think that there is food aplenty for all of God’s creation.  But, unfortunately, that is not the case.  As humanity encroaches on traditional food hunting areas, the foxes, coyotes, and even raccoons find themselves with reduced space and an increase in competition for the same food.

In the winter when prey is scarce, I cannot, with a clear conscience, throw any leftovers in the compost bin.  Some desperate creature, even carnivores, will hungrily devour those left-over roast potatoes, rice, carrots, apple cores and peeling, or stale bread.

Our bird feeder is a hub of activity from dawn ‘til dusk.  Blue Jays, Cardinals, Chickadees, the odd Robin who did not make the flight south and, squirrels.  So many squirrels – black, grey, red.

It is the squirrels that have my heart this week.  This winter has brought an increase in mange, especially for the squirrels.  Hairless and defenseless against the cold and the snow, they arrive at the feeder.  The horror of their nakedness and my inability to help them haunts me.  I do not want to see it, yet, I cannot look away.  There are days when I pray to Creator God to end the suffering as quickly as possible.

I am consumed with wanting to help.  But, in reality, all I can offer is compassion.

What is compassion?   Once again, I found myself turning to my favourite spiritual author, Joyce Rupp. In her book “Boundless Compassion – Creating a Way of Life”, I found the following quote.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion and anguish.  Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears.  Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable and powerless with the powerless.  Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.”

Sister Joyce took this quote from Donald P. McNeill, Douglas A. Morrison and Henri J.M. Nouwen, Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life” (New York: Image Books, 1983)

This world, more than ever before, needs compassion.  Jesus was a man of compassion.  We, as followers, are asked to do the same.  Let’s be a beacon of compassion for all God’s creation in this world of greed, uncertainty and indecision.

In peace

Beryl

Beryl's Blog: Darkness and Light

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.,     A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speech

It is the first week in February (also Black History month).  As I sit looking out the window, I realize that the dark days of winter are creeping slowly towards the light.  It is 5:30 p.m. and I can actually see the remnants of the now defunct Pine Lake in Hudson as the twilight brings to mind the ecological tragedy which ensued when the dam broke some five or so years ago.  Light, indiscriminately, reveals both the beauty of creation and the man-made ugliness of human intervention and inaction.

Co-incidentally this coming Sunday, we will be reading from Matthew 5 and hear the words of Jesus as he says to his followers “you are the light of the world”.

Did you realize that our greatest external source of light, on which everything living on earth is dependent, is the sun.  Although Jesus was referring to something else entirely in his continuing Sermon on the Mount, it is still comforting to know that the sun is always there, even on stormy overcast days – it is just behind the clouds and never truly goes away.

Jesus’ words this week afford us the opportunity to reflect on and connect to our inner light – remembering that what we have in common with the sun is that our inner light is never extinguished.

Like a candle burning in a porcelain diffuser, our inner light shines outwards, casting a gentle glow on everything it encircles.  And that same light is reflected back to us as we shine it onto others.

It’s reassuring to know that our inner light never goes out. Never. Even when this human life ends, our light is connected to our souls and our soul light continues.

We began as light. We continue as light. We bear light. We share light. We connect to Source with light. We inspire the world with light.

So, embrace your light. And, find your place in the sun (or Son).

In peace,

Beryl

Beryl's Blog: The Weight of a Snowflake

What does God ask of us? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.

—Micah 6:8

This coming Sunday, Micah will be part of our Scripture reading.  It is a familiar one, complete with a well-known hymn from Voices United and it got me to wondering if the actions of just one person to live in justice, mercy and humility could possibly make any difference in the ocean of humanity?  I was reminded of a little story I found in the book One Hundred Wisdom Stories From Around the World.  The story was entitled “How Much Does a Snowflake Weigh?”  and I would like to share it with you.

          It was deep winter and the snow was falling steadily upon the hillside.

          The mouse looked round and caught sight of a tiny bird sitting, shivering, on a bare branch overhead.  “Hello Jenny Wren” said the mouse, pleased to find some company on this bleak day. “I just came up for a bit of air before I go back to sleep for the rest of the winter.”

          But it was so good to find company that for a while the mouse and the wren sat there together, huddled beneath the lowest branches of a pine tree, watching the snow falling and enjoying a little congenial conversation.

          “How much do you think a snowflake weighs?” the mouse asked the wren suddenly.

          “A snowflake weighs almost nothing”, the wren replied.  “A snowflake is so insignificant it carries almost no weight at all.  How could anyone possibly weigh a snowflake?”

          “Oh, I disagree”, said the mouse.  “In fact, I can tell you that last winter, around this time, I woke up from my winter dreaming and came out here for a breath of fresh air, and because I had no companions and nothing better to do, I sat here counting the snowflakes as they fell.  I watched them settling on the branches and covering the pine needles with a blanket of whiteness.  I got as far as 2,492,359. And then – when the very next snowflake fell and settled on the branch – the branch dropped right down to the ground and all the snow slid off it.  So, you see, just that one snowflake weighed enough to make the branch sink down and the snow slide off.  A snowflake does weigh something.  It does make a difference!”

The wren, who was only a tiny little bird herself and didn’t think she had much influence on the great big world around her, pondered for a long time over the mouse’s story.  “Perhaps”, she thought to herself, “it really is true that just one little voice (one little action) can make a difference after all.”                           

 (source unknown)

Let’s go out and make a difference in the world!

In peace,

Beryl

Beryl's Blog: The Contemplative Season

In those times when I find myself in need of solitude, one of my favourite “go-to” authors is Sister Joyce Rupp – a member of the religious order known as the Servites or Servants of Mary.

Sister Joyce writes with great wisdom on the seasons of nature, seeing in them and comparing them to the human journey through the times of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.

This week, I thought I would share with you her insight into Winter.

Winter, Humble Servant of Creation, with brisk determination you encompass our land.  You clothe us into warm wraps, send us out into the weather to gather the lessons you scatter.

You call us to sit by the fireplace and feed each other stories.

You invite us to listen to that which is invisible.

You are the contemplative season. 

In unseen and unknown places, you faithfully do your work.

In the winter storms of our life, teach us patience.

May we learn to trust the goodness of what we cannot see.

As the ground becomes frozen, may we have the courage to visit the frozen

ground of our own lives, believing in the life that is hidden.

You clear the air.  You protect the seed.  You embrace reality.  You, O Winter,

Hold our fears until they can be transformed into trust.  You are the beautiful

season that we sometimes overlook.

Share with us your virtues of solitude, contemplation, and faith.

Surround us with your fresh, crisp breath and protect the seed that is

sleeping in the depth of our being.

I hope you enjoy this excerpt from The Four Seasons Prayer

In peace

Beryl

Taken from The Heart’s Journey Through the Seasons, 2005

Shrove Tuesday/ Ash Wednesday

Longtime members know that we have a habit of combining Shrove Tuesday - or Mardi gras - and Ash Wednesday into one evening, starting with a pancake feast and ending with a solemn ceremony with ashes as we mark the beginning of Lent. In the past we have done this on the Wednesday. This year, we have decided to do it on the Tuesday, which falls on February 25th.

The pancake supper will be coordinated by Dorothy Brown. Please contact her directly or through the office if you wish to help in some way.

Ashes will also be available the following Sunday, March 1st, for those who couldn’t attend on Tuesday.

Shrove Tuesday supper starts at 6pm on February 25th, followed by a simple service in the church hall at about 7:30pm. All are welcome.

Beryl's Blog: Time Flies

Tempus fugit as they say; especially in the Church liturgical calendar. 

Hopefully, by now, we have put away the Christmas decorations and, in spite of our best intention and solemn promises to our selves not to, we have eaten up the rest of the Christmas baking because we could not bear to see our hard labors go to waste.

It was barely three weeks ago that we celebrated the birth of Jesus in that animal shed in Bethlehem.

Two weeks ago, we travelled with the Magi to find Jesus who was thought to be about two years of age at that time.

And, one week ago, (had we not been deterred by freezing rain) we would have heard the story of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River, almost immediately before beginning his public ministry at about 30 years of age.  This coming Sunday, he will begin the calling of his disciples, starting with Andrew and Simon.

Time indeed does fly and in our own lives, things are not so different.

As we scurry towards Lent, we might find ourselves needing to rest a little, slow time down and reflect on where we might be heading in our personal lives.

This led me to thoughts about silence, or sacred silence.  Silence needs to be understood in a larger way than simply a lack of audible noise.  Whenever emptiness (or what seems like empty space or lack of sound) is embraced and allowed to become its own kind of fullness, we can experience sacred silence.  It is in this place of silence that we are able to embrace the depth and the power of prayer - that space where we are free to encounter both peace and joy and to experience the divine.

For me, Jesus had the right idea when he said, adapted from Matthew 6: 6 The Message (MSG)

6 “Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there, (in silence), as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense God’s grace.

From now until Lent, I wish you the blessings which can be found in the sounds of silence.

In peace,

Beryl

Prayer for Australia

A Prayer for the People, Animals and Land of Australia, by United Church of Canada Moderator Richard Bott. Copied below, or read on the UCC website.

We pray for gentle rains,
and no wind;
we pray for cooling skies,
and water in abundance;
we pray for the burning land,
we pray for the four legged,
and the winged,
for the koala and the kangaroo,
and all of their neighbours;
we pray for the people who are trapped,
for the people who have lost their homes,
for the firefighters and the first responders,
for the exhausted and the tapped out,
we pray for Australia,
from east, to south, to west, to north,
and all the places in between.

In this world of changed and changing climate, God,
we ask that you would help us
to help those who are in immediate danger;
may we use what we have to help and to heal -
then call us to repent of all the ways
we continue to make this world
a place of death, rather than life.

Help us, O God... because we
don't seem to be able
to do it on our own.

In Christ's name,
on the wings of the Holy Spirit,
we pray.

Amen.

—A prayer in response to the Australia wildfires by the Right Rev. Richard Bott.

January 3, 2020

Beryl's Blog: The Work of Christmas

As I write this, it is mid-week, January 2020.  That “not-so-eventful” time in the life of the church, that stretch of calm and introspection until we begin our next journey, Lent.

Some of us are already struggling with the resolutions we made but one short week ago: “to take better care of ourselves this year”. I am no exception. 

As I sit looking out at the snow falling on the cedars, I realize, yet again, many of us  may not make the goals we felt so confident about.  So, perhaps, it might be a good time to set our sights on new goals.  But this time, less about ourselves and more about what we can do to improve the lives of others.

I found myself drawn to those ancient words in Matthew 25: 35-40 (NRSV) which read:

‘For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,  I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’  Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing?  And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ "

Today I would like to share with you a newer version of these same verses, written by Howard Thurman, from “The Work of Christmas”.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.

Still cocooned in the darker, colder days of winter, awaiting the warmth and regrowth of spring, these words might be the focus we need to feed our souls and busy our hands as we too, carry on the work of Christmas past.

In peace,

Beryl

Beryl's Blog: Away in a Manger

This Sunday, December 22nd, will mark the end of our Advent Journey with the lighting of the final candle – the candle of love. 

We are almost at the stable door and the lowly place of the birth of God’s son – the manger.

The words of Bonhoeffer, written before 1945, may shock some of us deeply and may even seem inappropriate for this joyful time of year.  But these words embody the very characteristics of the one for whom we are waiting.  The one who lived his life and his ministry teaching of love and peace and justice for all.

Please join us for worship at our own manger at SouthWest on Christmas Eve, December 24th, at 7:30 p.m.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, (February 1906 – 9 April 1945) was a German pastor, theologian, and anti-Nazi dissident.  Bonhoeffer was known for his staunch resistance to Nazi dictatorship, including vocal opposition to Hitler's euthanasia program and genocidal persecution of the Jews. He was arrested in April 1943 and hanged on April 9, 1945.