Tired

“We all grow tired eventually; it happens to everyone. Even the sun, at the close of the year, is no longer a morning person.”

                                                                           Joyce Rachelle

_______________________________________________

I’m tired

Oh, I keep moving

I keep putting one foot in front of the other

I keep getting up

Keep taking walks with Finn the dog

Keep taking pictures

I keep teaching people to manage pain

And keep writing sermons

But I am tired

Exhaustion has woven its way through the fabric of my being

Until I am not longer full awake

Perhaps no longer fully alive

At times I feel more like a robot than a person

With muscles that are simply weak, as if they do not have enough oxygen

A head that will not clear

A mouth that barely works

A mind that would rather shut down

My greatest fear is that people will know that I am

Running on empty

It is not, when I spend time with them, that I do not care

I do

It is not that I don’t want to be there

I do

But my head and heart are empty

And there is a dull roar echoing thought my skull

That 24 hours without sleep kind of buzz

And I know that they are getting such small percentage of who I am

No wonder I do not feel effective these day

No wonder I am not effective these days

Zombies are limited creatures

Only partly alive

There are no easy answers

A little more sleep

A little more white space

 A little more time, reading, reflecting

But in the meantime I keep on

A sermon to write

A bulletin to do

A class to prepare for

A person to listen to

A person to pray for

God, I am at the end of my capacity

Time to lean

On

you

a sense of other

He hath disgraced me and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies – and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?

                              Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act III Scene I

________________________________________________________

What have we lost

We sentient beings who wander this earth

Looking for that which always seems slightly out of reach?

We stand like Tantalus,

Stuck, grasping, unsatisfied.

What have we lost in our quest?

We have lost our sense of other

We seem so incapable of seeing “the other”

As fellow human beings

As brothers and sisters

As Children of God

We see only the labels

The surface

Christian, Muslim

Republican, Democrat

Trumpista, Libertard

Black, White, Brown

Immigrant, refugee

Addict

Rich, poor, lazy moocher

As we walk through our day

Immersed in our fears, our joys, our hopes, our hates

We cannot see that “they” are “us”

We are all walking in fear

We are all walking wounded

We are all walking hopeful

We have more in common than we think

And if we can get in touch with that common humanity

What a difference it would make

If I can see the hurt behind the hate

If I can see the fear behind the judgement

If I can understand what drives the other person

I might find that he or she

Is really just like me

Yes there are differences

There are different values, different priorities

Different ways of responding

But in the end, we share a sacred parentage

And we share a rock, hurtling through space

We share fear, and hate, we share a need for safety, and for meaning

We share greed, and lust, and compassion and generosity

And we share something deep and profound

That can unite us

But we have to see

We have to accept

Forgive

Understand

We have to connect at that one place

Where we can connect

At that deep place

Where the Sacred lives

And then we have to walk each other home (Ram Dass)

_____________________________________________________

As I write this I am reminded of a prayer by Michel Quoist

Lord, why did you tell me to love all, my brothers [and sisters}? I have tried, but I come back to you, frightened… Lord, I was so peaceful at home, I was so comfortably settled. It was well furnished, and I felt cozy. I was alone, I was at peace. Sheltered from the wind, the rain, the mud. I would have stayed unsullied in my ivory tower. But, Lord, you have discovered a breach in my defenses, You have forced me to open my door, Like a squall of rain in the face, the cry of men has awakened me; Like a gale of wind a friendship has shaken me, As a ray of light slips in unnoticed, your grace has stirred me… and, rashly enough, I left my door ajar. Now, Lord, I am lost!  Outside people were lying in wait for me. I did not know they were so near; in this house, in this street, in this office; my neighbor, my colleague, my friend. As soon as I started to open the door I saw them, with outstretched hands, burning eyes, longing hearts, like beggars on church steps. The first ones came in, Lord. There was after all some space in my heart. I welcomed them. I would have cared for them and fondled them, my very own little lambs, my little flock. You would have been pleased, Lord, I would have served and honored you in a proper, respectable way. Till then, it was sensible… But the next ones, Lord, the others, I had not seen them; they were hidden behind the first ones. There were more of them, they were wretched; they over-powered me without warning. We had to crowd in, I had to find room for them. Now they have come from all over, in successive waves, pushing one another, jostling one another. They have come from all over town, from all parts of the country, of the world; numberless, inexhaustible. They don’t come alone any longer but in groups, bound one to another. They come bending under heavy loads; loads of injustice, of resentment and hate, of suffering and sin… They drag the world behind them, with everything rusted, twisted, or badly adjusted. Lord, they hurt me! They are in the way, they are everywhere, They are too hungry, they are consuming me! I can’t do anything anymore; as they come in, they push the door, and the door opens wider… Lord! My door is wide open! I can’t stand it anymore! It’s too much! It’s no kind of life! What about my job? My family? My peace? My liberty? And me? Lord, I have lost everything, I don’t belong to myself any longer; There’s no more room for me at home. Don’t worry, God says, you have gained all. While they came in to you, I, your Father, I, your God, Slipped in among them.

Rise up

“The sun shines not on us but in us.”

― John Muir

“Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien

____________________________________

The unyielding earth

Beneath my feet

Dry grass wilting, drying

Brittle and dusty

I wander aimlessly in the

Late dark early light

Of a waning moon

Greyness hovers

And only a sliver of pale pink

On the horizon heralds the coming sun

Such grayness feels comfortable this day

this day where yet again dark things will happen

this day where once again greed will make choices that harm

and hate will make choices that exclude

and fear will make choices that take the world down the path of cruelty

such grayness feel comfortable

as it matches the grayness in my soul

in these days when the darker angels of our nature

have been given the clarion call to action

by those who have profane power

it seeps into one’s soul

this darkness

trickling down

oozing its way deep into our souls

but still there is that sliver of light

still there is that place from which life comes

that somehow cannot be touched

cannot be totally destroyed

if we wait patiently

eyes on the horizon

the light will surely grow

if we wait patiently

and with intensity focus on the light

as it flickers deep in our soul

down in that place where the remnants of our

Sacred heritage still stir

It will surely grow

And as the gray of morning slowly gives way

To pink, to yellow, and then to brilliance

So too

Perhaps

The grayness of our souls

Will be touched by the light

Of that which formed and sustains the universe

Wake oh sleepers

Rise up

Wake up, oh better angels of our nature

There is work to be done

Blessed be

Blessed are the agnostics. Blessed are they who doubt, those who aren't sure, those who can still be surprised. Blessed are those who have nothing to offer. Blessed are they for whom death is not an abstraction. Blessed are they who have buried their loved ones for whom tears could fill an ocean.

Blessed are they who have loved enough to know what loss feels like. Blessed are they who don't have the luxury of taking things for granted anymore. Blessed are they who can't fall apart because they have to keep it together for everyone else. Blessed are those who still aren't over it yet. Blessed are those who mourn.

Blessed are those who no one else notices, the kids who sit alone at middle school lunch tables, the laundry guys at the hospital, the sex workers, and the night shift street sweepers. Blessed are the forgotten. Blessed are the closeted. Blessed are the unemployed, the unimpressive, the under-represented.

Blessed of the wrongly accused, the ones who never catch a break, the ones for whom life is hard for Jesus chose to surround himself with people like them. Blessed are those without documentation. Blessed are the ones without lobbyists. Blessed are those who make terrible business decisions for the sake of people. Blessed are the burned out social workers and the overworked teachers and the pro-bono case takers.

Blessed are the kindhearted NFL players and the fundraising trophy wives. And blessed are the kids who step between the bullies and the weak. Blessed is everyone who has ever forgiven me when I didn't deserve it. Blessed are the merciful for they totally get it. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

                                                                           NADIA BOLZ-WEBER

__________________________________________________

Blessed are they

Blessed are all the little ones

Sinful ones

Faithful ones

Blessed are the sober ones

And the wasted one

The healthy ones

And the ill

Blessed are those who are joyful

And blessed are those who mourn

Sometimes we think we know what a “blessing” looks like

It looks like finding someone to love

Who actually loves us back

It looks like our stocks going up

And our debt going down

It looks like “our” person being elected President

I looks like a big tax refund

Like a sunny day (or a rainy one)

I looks like happy healthy children

But we are always blessed

Even when love fails

And we fall, hard

Even when our debts mount

And depression hollows us out until

We are nothing

We are blessed when the storms come

And anxiety mounts

And perhaps it is the moments that we don’t feel blessed

That we most need to understand

That we are blessed

For being blessed is one thing

One thing

It is Sacred Love

And it is our having even the smallest, tiniest

Mustard seed sized

awareness of that love

it is that touch of warmth and peace

somewhere down in our deepest place

when all seems cold and chaotic

So holy ones

And holy terrors

So saints and all sinners (thank you Nadia)

So people wreathed with smiles

And people whose eyes are filled with tear

So people who know peace

And those who do not….

“Rejoice, and be glad!

Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad!

Yours is the kingdom of God!”  (Haas)

make a difference

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”

― Dalai Lama XIV

 “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.”

― Dalai Lama XIV

____________________________________________________________________

The news pours out of the TV

Rolls across the screen of my computer

It is overwhelming

Depressing

Disemboweling

We are left beaten and shaken

The lies, the cruelty, the selfishness,

The hate, the prejudice

To total disregard for the vulnerable

And the health of the earth

It makes one feel one’s “smallness”

And it make one want to just

Quit

To curl up in a ball, deep under the covers

To turn off the TV

Shut down the computer

And

Isolate!

What fun

Nothing like turning one’s mind loose on one’s self

Ouch

But here is the thing

We all can make a difference!

Really

We can do what is in front of us

Care for the person in front of us

Listen to the person in front of us

And we can perform a thousand small acts of kindness each day

bzzzzz, bzzzzzz

Live up to the light

“I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to

succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have.”

                               Abraham Lincoln

_____________________________________

We live in a world of flawed formulas

Work hard and you will succeed

If you live a good life you will be blessed

Those formulas were, at the very least,

Somewhat well intentioned

But we are now bombarded by values and beliefs that are not merely wrong

None of them are new

But they are newly embraced

And they are destructive

The end justifies the means

God loves and blesses us, but not them

People who are not like us have less value

Might makes right

If you have the power, you should be free to use it (without worrying about how it impacts others)

It is more important to be strong, than just, or compassionate

Its ok to scramble and fight to get what I want, even if it means others get left behind

We live in a world

More specifically in a nation

That is no longer “true”

And no longer living up the “what light” it has

We must respond

And grab hold of the truth

That we are in a win – lose culture

That is really a lose – lose culture

This must change.  To quote the words of Joseph Kennedy, as he spoke recently to spiritual leaders

“This moment demands more of us than we might feel capable of giving; more than we have traditionally done; more than we have ever expected.

But those of you in this room tonight — with your reservoirs of faith, of wisdom, of gentleness and justice and generosity – with the trust you have righteously earned from the people you serve — you are the ones to meet this moment.

Help us tell America an alternative story. Help us show our fractured, fearful country a different way.

Not a Democratic agenda or a Republican agenda – but a decent one.

“From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

Where you lead with strength and surety, a grateful nation will follow.”

We must lead

We must challenge the way that leads to lose – lose

We must live up to what light we have

Lost

He hath disgraced me and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies – and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?

                              Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, Act III Scene I

________________________________________________________

What have we lost

We sentient beings who wander this earth

Looking for that which always seems slightly out of reach?

We stand like Tantalus,

Stuck, grasping, unsatisfied.

What have we lost in our quest?

We have lost our sense of other

We seem so incapable of seeing “the other”

As fellow human beings

As brothers and sisters

As Children of God

We see only the labels

The surface

Christian, Muslim

Republican, Democrat

Trumpista, Libertard

Black, White, Brown

Immigrant, refugee

Addict

Rich, poor, lazy moocher

As we walk through our day

Immersed in our fears, our joys, our hopes, our hates

We cannot see that “they” are “us”

We are all walking in fear

We are all walking wounded

We are all walking hopeful

We have more in common than we think

And if we can get in touch with that common humanity

What a difference it would make

If I can see the hurt behind the hate

If I can see the fear behind the judgement

If I can understand what drives the other person

I might find that he or she

Is really just like me

Yes there are differences

There are different values, different priorities

Different ways of responding

But in the end, we share a sacred parentage

And we share a rock, hurtling through space

We share fear, and hate, we share a need for safety, and for meaning

We share greed, and lust, and compassion and generosity

And we share something deep and profound

That can unite us

But we have to see

We have to accept

Forgive

Understand

We have to connect at that one place

Where we can connect

At that deep place

Where the Sacred lives

And then we have to walk each other home (Ram Dass)

_____________________________________________________

As I write this I am reminded of a prayer by Michel Quoist

Lord, why did you tell me to love all, my brothers [and sisters}? I have tried, but I come back to you, frightened… Lord, I was so peaceful at home, I was so comfortably settled. It was well furnished, and I felt cozy. I was alone, I was at peace. Sheltered from the wind, the rain, the mud. I would have stayed unsullied in my ivory tower. But, Lord, you have discovered a breach in my defenses, You have forced me to open my door, Like a squall of rain in the face, the cry of men has awakened me; Like a gale of wind a friendship has shaken me, As a ray of light slips in unnoticed, your grace has stirred me… and, rashly enough, I left my door ajar. Now, Lord, I am lost!  Outside people were lying in wait for me. I did not know they were so near; in this house, in this street, in this office; my neighbor, my colleague, my friend. As soon as I started to open the door I saw them, with outstretched hands, burning eyes, longing hearts, like beggars on church steps. The first ones came in, Lord. There was after all some space in my heart. I welcomed them. I would have cared for them and fondled them, my very own little lambs, my little flock. You would have been pleased, Lord, I would have served and honored you in a proper, respectable way. Till then, it was sensible… But the next ones, Lord, the others, I had not seen them; they were hidden behind the first ones. There were more of them, they were wretched; they over-powered me without warning. We had to crowd in, I had to find room for them. Now they have come from all over, in successive waves, pushing one another, jostling one another. They have come from all over town, from all parts of the country, of the world; numberless, inexhaustible. They don’t come alone any longer but in groups, bound one to another. They come bending under heavy loads; loads of injustice, of resentment and hate, of suffering and sin… They drag the world behind them, with everything rusted, twisted, or badly adjusted. Lord, they hurt me! They are in the way, they are everywhere, They are too hungry, they are consuming me! I can’t do anything anymore; as they come in, they push the door, and the door opens wider… Lord! My door is wide open! I can’t stand it anymore! It’s too much! It’s no kind of life! What about my job? My family? My peace? My liberty? And me? Lord, I have lost everything, I don’t belong to myself any longer; There’s no more room for me at home. Don’t worry, God says, you have gained all. While they came in to you, I, your Father, I, your God, Slipped in among them.

equilibrium

“For Equilibrium, a Blessing:

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,

May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,

May your gravity by lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,

May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,

So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,

May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,

May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough

to hear in the depths the laughter of god.”

John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

_____________________________

The ground is firm between my feet

a relentless sun

has transformed the earth

once softened by rain

into a baked hardness

remorseless

this harsh world

under my feet

seems to speak of the world

which once substantial, and beautiful

has become twisted

transformed by

power and self-indulgence

into something

Impenetrable and harsh

a wasteland

of hate and greed

a dry and barren land where there is no water

this twisted tilted world leaves me

out of balance

as if the very harshness of

children caged

poor shamed

vulnerable neglected

evil flourishing

without equilibrium

I find myself wishing another ill

Hoping for the eradication of an existence

Returning hate with hate

Intolerance with intolerance

I long for the echoes of Sacred Presence

Rattling around in my soul

Lifting me up

Quenching my thirst

Re-creating me

So that I can once again love

Once again hope

Once again have compassion

So that I may once again

Dance and laugh

With the music of love

Reverberating in my heart

May I find the Sacred within

My I find myself again

And in the extravagance of holy love

May my mind be healed

May my heart be healed

May my soul be healed

May I be at peace

Blessed are

Blessed are the agnostics. Blessed are they who doubt, those who aren't sure, those who can still be surprised. Blessed are those who have nothing to offer. Blessed are they for whom death is not an abstraction. Blessed are they who have buried their loved ones for whom tears could fill an ocean.

Blessed are they who have loved enough to know what loss feels like. Blessed are they who don't have the luxury of taking things for granted anymore. Blessed are they who can't fall apart because they have to keep it together for everyone else. Blessed are those who still aren't over it yet. Blessed are those who mourn.

Blessed are those who no one else notices, the kids who sit alone at middle school lunch tables, the laundry guys at the hospital, the sex workers, and the night shift street sweepers. Blessed are the forgotten. Blessed are the closeted. Blessed are the unemployed, the unimpressive, the under-represented.

Blessed of the wrongly accused, the ones who never catch a break, the ones for whom life is hard for Jesus chose to surround himself with people like them. Blessed are those without documentation. Blessed are the ones without lobbyists. Blessed are those who make terrible business decisions for the sake of people. Blessed are the burned out social workers and the overworked teachers and the pro-bono case takers.

Blessed are the kindhearted NFL players and the fundraising trophy wives. And blessed are the kids who step between the bullies and the weak. Blessed is everyone who has ever forgiven me when I didn't deserve it. Blessed are the merciful for they totally get it. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

                                                                           NADIA BOLZ-WEBER

__________________________________________________

Blessed are they

Blessed are all the little ones

Sinful ones

Faithful ones

Blessed are the sober ones

And the wasted one

The healthy ones

And the ill

Blessed are those who are joyful

And blessed are those who mourn

Sometimes we think we know what a “blessing” looks like

It looks like finding someone to love

Who actually loves us back

It looks like our stocks going up

And our debt going down

It looks like “our” person being elected President

I looks like a big tax refund

Like a sunny day (or a rainy one)

I looks like happy healthy children

But we are always blessed

Even when love fails

And we fall, hard

Even when our debts mount

And depression hollows us out until

We are nothing

We are blessed when the storms come

And anxiety mounts

And perhaps it is the moments that we don’t feel blessed

That we most need to understand

That we are blessed

For being blessed is one thing

One thing

It is Sacred Love

And it is our having even the smallest, tiniest

Mustard seed sized

awareness of that love

it is that touch of warmth and peace

somewhere down in our deepest place

when all seems cold and chaotic

So holy ones

And holy terrors

So saints and all sinners (thank you Nadia)

So people wreathed with smiles

And people whose eyes are filled with tear

So people who know peace

And those who do not….

“Rejoice, and be glad!

Blessed are you, holy are you!

Rejoice and be glad!

Yours is the kingdom of God!”  (Haas)

Awareness

Awareness is like the sun

When it shines on things

They are transformed

                              Thich Nhat Hanh

__________________________

Awareness is a good thing

Not a fun thing

Not an easy thing

But a good thing

For if we are not aware of the chattering in our head

If we are not aware of the dark things rattling around in our souls

we are powerless

we are controlled by what we do not understand

by what we do not hear, do not know

by what we will not face

cannot face

Ignorance is not a option

For the person who wants to live a meaningful life

If we do not see our fears

Our delusions

Our weakness

If we do not see our strengths

We cannot be our best

And we will often be our worst

But if we see

Then we can repair the broken

Clean out the dark

And embrace the good

And be transformed