Oct 27, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog, Uncategorized
Today’s Word from Sheila Weidendorf
Text Origin: Middle Irish Poem “Rop tú mo Baile”
Attribution: Saint Dallan Forgaill
Tune: Slane (the village from which this Old Irish folk tune was collected)
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art
Thou my best thought, by day or by night
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light
Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word
I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, and I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one
Riches I heed not, nor vain, empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always
Thou and thou only first in my heart
High King of heaven, my treasure thou art
High King of heaven, my victory won
May I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heaven’s sun
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O ruler of all
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O ruler of all
I love this hymn! The tune is an old Irish folktune (what’s not to love about that?!?!?), which made its earlier published appearances in a variety of popular songs, including, “With My Love on the Road,” “The Hielan’s o’ Scotland,” and “By the Banks of the Bann.” Like many a hymn (and people too!), “Be Thou My Vision” has had many shapes and shifts and iterations along the way of coming to be the hymn we are familiar with.
Below are earlier lyrics, complete with Gaelic clan references (hence the sword and shield imagery due to long history of clan warfare) and the image of God as the great Chieftan:
Original translation from Middle Irish:
~Transl. 1905 by Mary Byrne
Be thou my vision O Lord of my heart
None other is aught but the King of the seven heavens.
Be thou my meditation by day and night.
May it be thou that I behold ever in my sleep.
Be thou my speech, be thou my understanding.
Be thou with me, be I with thee
Be thou my father, be I thy son.
Mayst thou be mine, may I be thine.
Be thou my battle-shield, be thou my sword.
Be thou my dignity, be thou my delight.
Be thou my shelter, be thou my stronghold.
Mayst thou raise me up to the company of the angels.
Be thou every good to my body and soul.
Be thou my kingdom in heaven and on earth.
Be thou solely chief love of my heart.
Let there be none other, O high King of Heaven.
Till I am able to pass into thy hands,
My treasure, my beloved through the greatness of thy love
Be thou alone my noble and wondrous estate.
I seek not men nor lifeless wealth.
Be thou the constant guardian of every possession and every life.
For our corrupt desires are dead at the mere sight of thee.
Thy love in my soul and in my heart —
Grant this to me, O King of the seven heavens.
O King of the seven heavens grant me this –
Thy love to be in my heart and in my soul.
With the King of all, with him after victory won by piety,
May I be in the kingdom of heaven, O brightness of the sun.
Beloved Father, hear, hear my lamentations.
Timely is the cry of woe of this miserable wretch.
O heart of my heart, whatever befall me,
O ruler of all, be thou my vision.
This past Sunday’s sermon focused on the blind man on the side of the road, made well and whose vision was restored by his encounter with and faith in the Son of David. The visiting Rev. Yee led us on a journey to help us see through the (inner) eyes of that blind man. I am thinking now of the ways in which we see-perceive-discern-judge the world around us. Each of has our filters, our hermeneutical lenses carefully crafted from our own beliefs and concretized experiences. Everything we see and experience— whether in the world around or on the inner plane—is filtered and interpreted through those lenses.
This is understandable, but it is also folly—unless/until we’ve found really good, Cosmic lens cleaner!! The thing about being human is that we believe ourselves too readily. How committed we become to our own filters and lenses, our assumptions and assertions and suppositions. And how often have we been wrong—misguided, influenced by unconscious bias, so committed to our own stories that nothing can “land” purely, simply, unadorned and uninterpreted?
In my life as a classical keyboardist, I spend OODLES of time learning vast amounts of new repertoire. There’s a first reading/play-through, then a building of neuro-muscular pathways as I practice the notes into my hands. Then comes the deeper work of searching for all the clues in the treasure map that is a music score to determine the kind of touch or articulation required to produce a particular tone color, or to develop the phrase relationships between notes so as to sculpt the message. In this deeper work I try to get as close to the composer as I can, having to rely upon my musical training and awareness to decipher the clues in the map, without knowing for sure the composers’ intent. That is my work.
As a person, my work is not much different. If I am to walk my path on this Earth as a spiritual being, a child of God, I am presented with constant opportunity to expand my awareness—and hopefully to increase in wisdom, understanding, and compassion for others. This requires that I regularly challenge, clean, or remove the hermeneutical lenses through which I view the world so that I can more closely view others around me through the eyes of God.
Now I don’t presume to know what God sees, or thinks, or feels. So, to even attempt to witness the world, to bear witness to others’ experiences and joys and sorrows requires daily acts of surrender. In a very real way, each day we are called to “die” to our assumptions and assertions, to lay down our carefully crafted ego-selves so that we might live fully in the love of God. As wonderful as they are, we are called to set aside our stories and suppositions, to be made new in the Consciousness of Christ.
And isn’t that fabulous?!? We must do our own work, bring ourselves to the daily table and allow ourselves to be renewed in love. Full of that love, we can radiate it out to others through our work, our care, through taking the time to truly see one another through the eyes of God, each of us a beautiful expression of God.
Click HERE to listen to my version of this lovely tune.
May blessings abound.
~Sheila
Jun 17, 2021 | Uncategorized
Today’s Word from Pastor Tom Kidd…
You know that feeling when you’ve had an epiphany? That moment when insight intersects with truth and you are left slack-jawed, stuck somewhere between, “Of course,” and “Geeze, you are stupid!” That was me when Brenda led me into the Portsmouth, NH Memorial, The African Burying Ground.
The photos tell only part of the story. Excavation at one point revealed this was a burial ground for African slaves during pre-Civil War history. The simple but striking Memorial attempts to capture a bit of the story of the Black Heritage Trail of New Hampshire. The space feels holy and, though evoking a silence from all who stood and stared, there was the unmistakable sense of voices present. This was a memorial to those lost as a part of the African Diaspora.
I had never thought of the story of African slaves brought to America as a story of “diaspora.” But of course, that is exactly their story. I have known full well the story of the 10 lost tribes of Israel, the Northern Kingdom destroyed by the Assyrians in 722 BC and carried off into captivity. Assimilated into greater South Asian Culture they would become a part of the Great Jewish Diaspora only to have their religion acculturated by the world religions of the day. And then there was the Southern Kingdom of Judah who suffered the great Babylonian Captivity in 586 BC. The Temple was leveled and the faithful were forced to find other symbols to embody the religious life of faith.
Most of this simplistic summary of religious diaspora history is well known. But this was the first time I had heard the word in connection with African slaves. Of course, no different than with the story of the Jews at the hands of the Assyrians or Babylonians, African people were carried off by slave traders and forced into a life as a part of an African diaspora. It was for me a simple step from Jews in captivity to African people seeking to maintain their story after generations of slavery and assimilated life in America. Of course this is a story of diaspora… I’m a genius (read self-deprecating humor).
In a spiritual sense, we are all a part of a religious diaspora. To some degree we all live separated from that which we were created to be. Every time I find myself in the middle of a negative or painful flashback (“Why did I say that?” “Why did I do that?”) I am experiencing the consequence of living apart from God; apart from that which I am created to be. It’s like being cast out of the Garden all over again. Ugh. We all live a life of faith feeling separated from God as a part of the spiritual diaspora. Jesus, the living word, is our confidence that we have found our way home.
It is certainly not an epiphany to any of us that we are living in a highly partisan, divided world. It is symbolic of the spiritual diaspora we live in. St. Paul, when writing to the church at Ephesus, penned, “Our battle is not with flesh and blood but with powers and principalities.” A stunningly sober observation. It is a condition of life in the diaspora that would leave us to believe there is not a way out of this social quagmire; this cannot be fixed and we are left to point fingers at the “enemy.” But our battle is not with flesh and blood but with the forces of evil that would leave us divided in a binary world where you are either good or bad, right or wrong, left or right, straight or gay… it all just depends on who is telling the story.
Here is what I believe to be true… we are all just trying to find our way home. Everyone. No matter how angry, no matter how lost, no matter how self-destructive the behavior, we are all just trying to find our way home. That is the condition of a spiritual diaspora. Maybe we could just be a little kinder to the other, whoever they may be. And just maybe, in us, the other will experience the spirit of Jesus such that the diaspora will not feel quite as painful or isolating.
Peace and love to you,
Pastor Tom
Jun 4, 2021 | Pastor Jim's Blog, Uncategorized
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
It was a beautiful Thursday afternoon on Whidbey Island. June had arrived, the sun-bathed green landscapes were accented by blooming flowers and the ever present yellow of scotch broom. In a brief four-hour period, I would take part in, and witness, new beginnings and bittersweet endings.
My arrival at the wedding site brought warm greetings and lavish hospitality. There would be time for celebration, but I had to be all business in my business suit and clerical collar. There were a dozen little details that had to be addressed if the ceremony was to come off without blemish. Photographers, DJs, mothers, a groom with his father, the wedding party, and two, cute as could be, flower girls were assembled and in position. It was time to start. All I needed was the bride and her father. How long they had dreamed of this walk down the aisle.
When she answered my call and emerged from the dressing room, she was resplendent, glowing, wearing a gown that had graced her mother’s wedding, a gown that her grandmother’s imagination had called out of lifeless bolts of material decades ago. Weddings were rarely emotional early in my career, but with three daughters, and having made that slow walk down the aisle with my little girl on my arm, I am now prone to tears at most weddings.
The wedding came off without a hitch. It was a magical day on a dock, the end of one chapter, and the beginning of a lifetime of new beginnings.
The wedding was over, the license was signed, and I was off to the Trinity Preschool Graduation. The ten who were graduating had weathered the pandemic school year, and now walked the aisle as Pomp and Circumstance played. Parents, grandparents, and siblings held cell phones to capture the moment for posterity. Though they had practiced earlier in the day, the mostly 5-year-olds acted like 5-year-olds; as if to say, that it was perfectly controlled chaos, just as it should have been. Teacher Michelle interviewed each student, as the gathered guests gained some insight to the Preschool experience. Much like the NFL draft, there was an announcement that informed the adoring family members and friends of what kindergarten team the new graduates would be a part of next fall.
The students, many of whom had been with us since they were two years old, would not be returning. They would be moving on; we would not see their smiling faces or bandage their skinned knees anymore. My grandson Camden was among the graduates. He will no longer bounce into my office and up into my lap three days a week. Next fall, when the preschoolers sing in the meadow at the end of the school day, there will be no one for me to pick up. Bittersweet indeed.
The graduation came off without a hitch. It was a magical evening that ended with the students lined up for shaved ice treats. It was the 35th Graduation of the Trinity Preschool, the end of one chapter and the beginning of a lifetime of new beginnings.
Savor each day my friends, savor each day.
Love, Pastor Jim
Maybe one day we will live in a world where armies are not necessary for the security of civilian populations. Maybe someday, but until then let us live with genuine thankfulness for those who put on soldier’s boots that we might stay at home and live in freedom.
