Pride Month as an LGBTQ+ Catholic

By Maddie LaBrecque,

June is a time of warmer weather and fresh beginnings as we enter upon the summer season. June is also Pride Month, a time which celebrates the anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in 1969 that sparked the modern-day LGBT rights movement. Pride is often depicted by elaborate rainbow-themed parades and festivals as it is a celebration of our diverse community and the strides for equality that we have made in the past 50 years. It also serves as a reminder of the continued work that lies ahead of us to ensure a world free of discrimination, violence, and inequality toward the LGBTQ+ community.

As a Catholic, I believe Pride Month is a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the LGBT members in our own churches. It is the perfect time to listen to their invaluable experiences and use these connections to help us grow in our own spiritual journeys. As a gay woman, Pride Month helps give me the opportunities to speak my truth, educate others, and be an example of the kind-hearted individuals that belong in our Church and deserve to feel welcomed and loved.

Historically, the LGBT community has been harshly judged and mistreated within our Church but I believe we are living through a time of unprecedented change. Support of the LGBT community has grown significantly within the Church in recent years. Through forming meaningful connections and listening to LGBT people in their lives, many Christans are starting to see and appreciate the wonderful gifts that each individual brings to the Church, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. The kindness we extend to others is of the utmost importance. Doesn’t God teach us to love our neighbor, to treat each other as we ourselveswould want to be treated?

I was created in God’s image, just like everyone else. I am the best version of myself because I am living as an openly gay Christian. Living my life authentically has allowed me to fully embrace the life that God intended for me. I am pursuing a career that I am passionate about, I am surrounded by people whom I love, and I wake up each morning grateful for how far I have come. Most of these things that bring me joy would be next to meaningless if I were to live pretending to be someone I am not.

Over the years I have been blessed with many opportunities to spark change within my own community, as well as open the hearts and minds of so many friends and family members. My hope for Pride Month, as always, is to continue this work in spreading a message of love, compassion, kindness, tolerance, and respect towards all God’s children, no matter what.

Maddie is a senior nursing student at St. Joseph’s College of Maine. She serves as the President of the College’s Gay Straight Transgender Alliance. She currently works as a Nursing Assistant in the Intensive Care Unit at Maine Medical Center in Portland, Maine and hopes to continue her career in nursing as a Critical Care Nurse after graduating with her BSN and RNcredentials. She lives in Biddeford with her family, dogs, Maggie and Theo, and cat, Ellie.

Sacred Peace

By Rev. AbbyLynn Haskell,

I remember hearing a story told by Ruth Graham that she was asked to judge an art show with the award going to the one successful in conveying the concept of peace. There were entries that had beautiful scenic fields, pastures and flowing rivers but none of these entries were declared the winner. The “peace” winner was a painting of a violent storm. The storm was depicted with heavy rains threatening to erode a barn’s foundation, stormy clouds pierced by mean streaks of lightening and trees severely bent by the force of the wind.

In the branches of one of these trees was a small nest and in the nest was a mother bird sheltering her babies peeking out from under her wing.

In the stormy chaos of these days I’ve found peace in the sunrise on Sunday mornings on the ocean. I was invited last fall by a Captain of a local fishing charter to lead a Sunday “boat church.” I didn’t think he was serious but he kept bringing it up and reminding me of his invitation. He remembered going to boat church as a boy with his grandmother. The Friday before Memorial Sunday he called and invited me again. Something felt right and I agreed. We’ve had two boat church Sundays so far and they have become a treasured part of my week. I invite you sometime this summer to go find a bit of horizon and watch the sun come up. May you be blessed to encounter a bit of that sacred peace that only a sunrise wonder can offer.

AbbyLynn currently serves as part-time co-pastor at the Acton Congregational Church UCC in Maine. AbbyLynn also loves sailing, is a USCG Captain, and runs a coastal sailing retreat business with her husband that operates out of Saco Bay. If you’d like to attend a Sunrise Boat Church this summer you can sign up to hop aboard here: broadreachministries.com/sunday-sunrise-service

Lessons from the Birch Tree—Grace, Resilience, and Rebirth

By Rev. Dr. Mary Gelfand,

When I moved to Maine from the deep south 15 years ago, I was delighted to discover how many birch trees were on the property where I lived. Previously I had had little contact with these beautiful white trees, other than in pictures and stories. Face to face, they were every bit as marvelous as I had imagined. I loved their shape against the sky, their beautiful white bark, the graceful way they swayed in the wind, the delicate tracery of their branches in mid-winter.

My first winter here, I was amazed at the bendiness of the branches and trunk of my birch trees. How the weight of heavy wet snow temporarily changed their outline as branches bent to earth, and how gracefully they rebounded once the snow melted. To me all of this was a miracle.

Thus you can imagine my horror when, during the fourth winter of my residence in Maine, the central trunk of the birch tree I communed with most often cracked a couple feet above the ground and fell to earth. I was devastated. But I took comfort in the presence of two remaining trunks, and that summer, when we got married, the cut off trunk lent a new joy to the celebration, thanks to an unexpected gift from dear friends.

These two remaining trunks did well—growing bigger and putting out new branches and suckers. I learned that the gifts of the birch was not limited to beauty and grace—she also taught the lessons of resilience. All was right with the world.

Fast forward to the winter of 2017—multiple heavy wet snows over a brief period of time drowned my poor tree. Both trunks cracked and fell, pulling the root crown half-way out of the ground. I was sure the tree was dead. Kind friends came by to remove the broken branches. I did my best to shove the root crown back into the earth, and prayed, without much hope.

The following summer, I noticed multiple suckers emerging from the roots. So many I lost count. I waited another year and then chose 3 strong and tall suckers to keep and pruned the rest. Although she has a long way to go to regain her original height, she is still thriving—reborn from a tree I thought dead.

This winter has been relatively mild. Nevertheless, a few wet snowfalls caused many tree branches to come down. Two of our other birch trees have lost upper branches, as have other trees in our yard. But I no longer despair when I see these normal manifestations of winter. I have faith that spring will come—that life will renew itself—that all manner of things shall be well.

Rev. Dr. Mary Gelfand is an ordained Interfaith Minister, a gifted teacher, and Wiccan High Priestess. She teaches and writes on the topics of feminist spirituality, Tarot, and Earth-centered spiritual paths. She resides in Wells with her husband Mark, two cats, and a forest full of birds, chipmunks, and other mysteries of life. You can see more of her writings at weavingthestars.blogspot.com.

Birch tree image by Michael Eric Berube.

I Miss the Future

By Leslie Hyde

As I watch the world I thought I knew seemingly crumble, I am beginning to question my response to what is unfolding before my eyes. I have been frightened, heartbroken, angry, frustrated and completely baffled. I have cried with friends as I conduct long distance burials, I have railed at family members who claim "Fake News,” I have prayed with front line nurses who are overwhelmed, I have raged at leadership that seems callous and uninformed…and most recently I have begun to comprehend the depth of racial inequity inherent in the fabric of our society.

2020: the year we see with perfect vision. It is incredibly hard work to hold the magnitude of all that is broken. It feels, to me anyway, that this clarity of vision is one of the gifts we have been offered, if we have the strength and courage to accept it. And, many times, I don't. I look away, point fingers and play victim. And it just makes me miserable.

As a chaplain, I know I can't fix things, but I can meet people where they are. But I don't really do that for myself. So I thought I'd start with what I know to be true for me. I have a deep and powerful yearning to be connected to the Divine. With that as my guide, I have listened for some cosmic truth. And I came to surprising and sacred territory: I. Don't. Know. What a place of freedom—and humility—and deep vulnerable honesty.

“I Don't Know” means:I don't have to have the answers.I am willing to admit I was wrong.I can engage the opinions of others without an agenda.I don't have to justify myself—or convince you.I can release the expectations I didn't even know I had.I can talk less and listen more.

And best of all, with an open heart I can listen for the truth. I know I'll recognize it because, in its presence, my soul stirs and my heart beats a bit faster.

Leslie worked in business publishing in Boston, London, and New York. In 1988, after the birth of her daughter, she moved to Portland and became a Guardian Ad Litem for 10 years. She served as a mentor at Long Creek Youth Development Center. She was elected a member of the Yarmouth Town Council and was president of the non-profit, Yarmouth Cares About Neighbors, for many years. She was ordained an interfaith chaplain by ChIME 2015. She is currently the chaplain for the Yarmouth Police Department.

Photo of path in fog by Martino Pietropoli

Pentecost

By Rev. Lori Whittemore,

Pentecost is a Christian Holiday. It is observed the 7^th Sunday after Easter. Prior to the birth of Christ, Judaism celebrated the same period of time as a feast day. There was a pause between the spring and fall harvest. The time-frame of that celebration parallels the timing of when Pentecost occurs. Pentecost celebrates the time when the Holy Spirit descended onto God’s people and caused them to speak in tongues. It marks the beginning of the Christian Church. Pentecost, like the Jewish festival, marks an in-between time—between our past and our becoming.

I believe the pandemic could be an in-between time. A time of reflecting on the fruits of our past labor and a look ahead for what work will yield the greatest nourishment. A time of reflecting on what lessons can be gleaned from the lives we have lived and the crops we have grown. A time of reflecting on what it means to share in our common humanity in different and more thoughtful and just ways. This pandemic has once again highlighted the institutionalized and systemic inequality, and, dare I say, oppression that exists in our society. Can we take this as an opportunity to steer the ship in another direction? The glimpse of a healing earth as a result of a slower pace could take us in new directions in our stewardship of our planet. The glimpse (once again) of the unadulterated institutionalized racism, both in access to healthcare and in police brutality should inspire us to act on a new ideal.

My daughters are both in-between young adulthood and adulthood. Both have shared how difficult it is to launch at this time. They can’t work, can’t maintain apartments without work and can’t socialize. My youngest blames the “boomers.” While I am not technically a baby boomer, her point about us previous generations is clear. We have contributed to the system that holds them back, more often than not, by our complicity. Our family is all (mostly) grateful that my daughters can fall back into our home. My husband and I have come to expect the daily conversation about how much harder it is for our kids to get education, get access to healthcare, to live independently. I wonder how those conversations will transform our time together and beyond.

May this in-between time of pandemic inspire responsibility and idealism. May those of us with resources divest from what doesn’t serve the world or our neighbors. May those of us who need, lead the way. May the fiery tongues of Pentecost shed a light on our brokenness so that we can see paths forward that we had never imagined. And may we walk new paths, keeping sight of the earth and the whole of humanity as the Community in ways that we have yet to imagine! I don’t know all of you reader’s faiths, ethnicity’s, or perspectives. I offer this link as a tangible way that some of us can begin to steer our ship differently.

Lori Whittemore a spiritual care volunteer for the American Red Cross and Maine Behavioral Health, as well as the founder and director of Abbey of Hope and Clinical Pastoral Training Center of Southern Maine (CPTCSM). Through CPTCSM she trains chaplains and pastoral care givers with today’s varied religious and spiritual landscape in mind. Rev. Whittemore approaches interfaith ministry from her Christian background and training as well as her interfaith education at Chaplaincy Institute of Maine.

Field at Sunset image by Peggy Choucair

Shabbot

By Miriam Gibely,

Every week the tablecloth goes on the tableClean, new and decorative like the bride’s wedding gown.It signals Shabbot, a day of rest, reflection, and separation from the world.It marks the day as special,To be celebrated in style.It honors the QueenLike the long train of her royal attire.It beckons us to use our finest dishesAnd wear our best clothes.From sunset to sunsetThe tablecloth declares the dayIs holy and freeFrom worldly woes.

The sabbath or Shabbot is often compared to a bride or a queen in Rabbinic traditional writing.

As Jews living in rural Maine my husband and I find observance of the day of rest, shabbot, is the centerpiece of each week. Driving an hour each way to synagogue does not seem in harmony with the spirit of shabbot so we celebrate at home. Friday night at dusk we light two candles, say our Hebrew blessings with as much kavanah, true intention, as we can, then wash our hands for the shabbot meal. We make a Kiddush, sanctification of the shabbot, over a cup of kosher grape juice, bless the twin loaves of bread that recall the double portion of manna which fell on the 6^th day so the people of Israel did not need to gather manna on shabbot in the wilderness between Egypt and the land of Canaan. We enjoy a special tasty meal at the shabbot table which symbolizes the mizbeach or alter, on which offerings were made to the Creator. Now our prayers are our offerings. We sing a grace after the meal in Hebrew. All these blessings are repeated on Saturday and we read a Torah portion every week so that each year we complete the five books of Moses. There is plenty of discussion and review of rabbinical commentary to spark our minds. The spreading of the table cloth on the table is part of what makes it clear that Shabbot is different than the other 6 days of the week.

Miriam Gibely is a recently retired nurse from Sweden, Maine. She is an observer of the day of rest in an effort to bring peace to the world.

Table photograph by Miriam Gibely.

How To Be Tough during a Pandemic

By Dana Sawyer,

Recently, I saw a photo of a church sign in Orono that read, “Tough Times never last, but Tough People do.”  I liked the sign and it made me reflect on what it means to be “tough.”  I decided that the best sort of toughness is a dogged resilience mixed with fidelity to kindness, patience, and community spirit.

This all sounds a bit abstract, but at the time of reflection, it wasn’t even remotely vague.  My thoughts traveled immediately to my childhood in Washington County, and more specifically to my family’s behavior during blizzards.  Whenever a big storm blew in, and as nightfall approached, my father would rig up in his green rubber boots, wool pants and coat to tramp through the drifts on Main St. (the only road through town) in search of stranded travelers.  In those days, before cell phones, reliable weather forecasting, or all-wheel drive vehicles, getting caught in a ferocious storm was easier and more dangerous, so dad would tramp through town looking for wayward travelers to invite home.

With the electricity out, our family was drawn down into the core of the house, to settle around the wood stove in the parlor, foregoing our bedrooms until it was time to sleep under a pile of quilts.  However, as children we often weren’t able to sleep upstairs on those nights because our beds were filled with strangers grateful for a invitation to avoid a night of freezing weather in a buried car.  This wasn’t a hardship for my siblings and me, since we reveled in“camping out” in front of the warm stove downstairs.

The most memorable of these snowstorms began on December 30th, 1962.  Everyone in our part of Maine remembers that two-day blizzard, not only because of its proximity to New Year’s Eve but because we were blindsided by it.  The weather report that morning called for flurries, but more than two feet of snow fell in 24 hours and the temp dropped below zero.  So my dad initiated his usual search and my family ended up with four guests: a truck driver, a salesman and an elderly couple.

Thirty-six hours later, I, at eleven years old, jumped from a second-story window into a snowdrift and proceeded to shovel out the front door.  Then the salesman and I searched for his car, buried so deeply in a drift that we located it by using our shovel handles as avalanche probes.  Over the years, other people stayed with us also, and what impressed me was my parents’ easy generosity.  “It’s just doing what’s right,” my father would always say.

Maine winters were tougher then, but we still deal with tough weather, endured it with a toughness of our own.  Now, during this epidemic, we will again come through, understanding that kindness, rather than selfish actions like hoarding or looting, will get us there.  And as I learned long ago, kindness can even be fun.

Dana Sawyer is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy and Religion at the Maine College of Art and author of Aldous Huxley, A Biography as well as Huston Smith: Wisdomseeker, the authorized biography of the renowned authority on World Religions.  He lives in Blue Hill with his artist wife, Stephani. www.dana-sawyer.com

Tree in snow photo by mimiliz

Extraordinary Times Demand Extraordinary Actions

By Nasser Rohani,

In these days of social distancing, when we are mostly confined to the walls of our homes and engaged in various activities to keep our sanity intact, it is OK to reflect on what we are doing. Really! How are we doing in quarantine? Binge-watching shows on Netflix? Doing puzzles? Learning Spanish? Dancing in front of mirror? Doing yoga? Baking bread from scratch? Organizing our closet? Folding the laundry? Chatting with friends?

How about letting ourselves be?

One aspect of things that really consumes our mind and heart is ingesting the news about the deaths of hundreds of victims of this vicious pandemic. We feel saddened and even depressed. Well, it is OK to think, feel, and grieve. Think about what has transpired over the last couple of months. Grieve for all of the people who’ve died during this pandemic. For the families who aren’t able to grieve together. Cry in fear for our friends and family who are medical professionals in COVID-19 units across the country and for those who are home alone. Then, for those who have lost their loved ones, there is a dilemma of not having an opportunity for closure. We are asked by the medical authorities to observe social distancing, avoid large congregations. We cannot hug each other and weep together and console each other.

Saying goodbye to a loved one is a ritual that transcends social and cultural differences. Even in secular societies, survivors participate in some combination of prayer and remembrance to honor the departed. These traditions are being upended as governments across the globe impose strict social distancing orders, forcing people to find new ways to grieve. Having that sense of grieving, has brought us together. These are extraordinary times. And extraordinary times demand extraordinary actions. As a member of the Baha’i community, I wanted to offer my community’s position on how we handle the problems we are facing. The issue of religious rituals and practices, especially in relation to process of grieving and internment of the dead bodies, is the most sensitive and emotional issue. Baha’is have specific laws related to preparation of the body, shroud, burial and the prayers for the dead. However, the two important issues that we ALL should keep in mind are (i) following the government directives and (ii) observing the scientific facts. Everything else could be put on temporary hold for the sake of public health and safety. The Baha’is have suspended ALL their religious meetings and moved on various virtual platforms. In addition, we have been told that public safety must be diligently and thoroughly observed by all. Whatever advice the health authorities provide must be followed. Even should authorities mandate cremation of the deceased, we pose no objection to observing such a requirement.

If we all unite and with one heart withstand and endure, the better days are right around the corner.

Nasser Rohani was born in Iran. At 18 he left Iran for India to pursue higher education. After the advent of the Islamic Revolution in 1979, Nasser who intended to return to his homeland, was unable to go back, due to his religious affiliation—the Bahá’í Faith. The Bahá’ís are being persecuted by the fundamentalist regime. He continued his education and completed his Pre-PhD studies in village cooperative banking from Osmania University. After an 11 year stay in India, he and his wife and child emigrated to the United States in 1985. He soon joined the L.L. Bean company and for thirty two years he worked there as a systems programmer/analyst in the information services department. Nasser and his wife Parivash have four children and live in Portland, Maine.

Rose photo by Peter Gustafson

Wisdom Farmers

By Rev. Myra Robinson,

We are Wisdom Farmers…encouraging thoughtful reflection to bear fruit as sweet as any insight, by treating it with the patience it needs to thrive. Weeding out the negative, to cultivate acceptance. Producing an abundance of gratitude.

Our Wisdom Garden is sprinkled with the beauty of perseverance, that allows for constant growth in any season, and can weather any storm. For love and kindness bloom eternal in this place; this Sacred Eden we make manifest. Where the Tree of Life is laden with courage as well as sorrow, we learn we harbor a core self-care as a means to carry strength to weakened limbs.

With compassion we tend each precious acre of common suffering, which yields the delicious Life Lessons we all need to grow. But, if (or when) a devastating loss plows a fallow field through the middle of your heart, and grief rises from the dusty desolation? Don’t even try to cut it back. Let it be. Let it stand as a testament to Hope, for it is planted as deeply as the love you shared.  This connection is never lost. It just looks different in the light of time.

Relax. Let the fierce wind carve away worry, and clear the way for the planting of a new perspective; new seeds of thought…new Ways of Being.  Everything we need to live healthy in body, mind, and spirit, is right here. Attending your inner landscape prepares the grounding your Soul needs to bloom fully. Oh, and those flittering Epiphanies that hover just out of reach? They are only waiting for you to open the garden gate; to welcome in the buzzing muses that spread their creative pollen, to propagate fresh ideas in a plethora of “aha!” moments.

When (and if) you dig for answers—you don’t yet even know the questions to—let intuition be your guide, curiosity your spade. The tender caring of this Sanctuary ensures the continuation of the legacy that—given freely to you—will pass on to future generations. To harvest peace in a world that is wiser because of your efforts.

Finally, taking pride in your accomplishments, the time comes to sit and enjoy the fruits of your labor, do so in a cool patch of meditation. Get close to Ancient Mother Earth; who is rooted in each of us in a symbiotic dance of existence. Sit very still and listen. She will whisper to you in your garden of reflection. Then, you will smile joyfully as Birds of Paradise sing to the Wise Spirit inside you.

Rev. Myra Robinson is an Interfaith Chaplain & Entrepreneur; as well as writer, artist, and singer/songwriter. A Unitarian Universalist; she is an alum of the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine, is a Reiki practitioner and Sound Healer. Using her newly restored voice (after surviving throat Cancer in 2019), she enjoys officiating customized "Wow-Factor" Weddings and presenting her AffirMantra^TM Workshops throughout New England.  Myra was Minister-of-the-Week at Ferry Beach Conference Center in 2016 and 2017, and a Conference Coordinator in 2018; empowering women and encouraging stewardship of Mother Earth. Currently—while working on her memoirs - with compassion and gratitude, she ministers to her community in Southern Maine, by offering spiritual mentoring, hospice singing, memorials, bereavement support, and guest clergy services in various faith traditions.

Myra lives in Scarborough with her husband, two cats, and "a lot of musical instruments!”  For more information and to reach Myra: rev.myra@affirmantra.com

Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village Garden by Lindy Gifford.

Jewish Mysticism I

By Joel Grossman,

This is the first of four articles offered throughout the coming year on Jewish Mysticism. A definition of “mysticism” is the developing a direct experience of the Divine, by finding personal meaning in spiritual practices.

Jewish Mysticism takes many different forms, the most well known is Kabbalah, of which one translation is (there are many) “receiving.” The form of kabbalah that is popular today is Lurianic Kabbalah, named after the Rabbi Issac Luria (1534–1572). Lurianic Kabbalah gave new meaning to the central Kabbalistic text, the “Zohar." It formed in Safed, a small mountain town in the northern Israel section called the Galilee, where after the 1492 expulsion of Jews from Spain, learned mystical rabbis gathered.

One element of Kabbalistic thought is PaRDeS (“orchard”), the four levels of interpretation of the Torah, the five books of Moses. Each level goes deeper, to a mystical understanding of the passages. Level 1: Pshat (“surface”), the literal meaning of the text. Level 2: Remez (“hints”), is allegorical or hidden meaning. Level 3: Drash (“inquire”), the meaning derived by drawing on related writings to the literal word/phrases, especially from Talmud, the written down discussions by rabbis from 200 C.E. to 500 C.E., of what the Torah means. And Level 4: Sod (“secret” or “mystical”) received through inspiration or revelation.

Here is an example of the Sod or mystical understanding of a line from the Torah: “What does G‑d, your Lord, ask of you? Only to fear (also translated of “respect “or “be in awe of”) G-d . . . to walk in His ways and to love Him.” The Rabbis interpretation of the quote on the mystical level note that the Hebrew word for “what,” is like the Hebrew word for one hundred. So from this is drawn the encouragement to say one hundred blessings each day. From this mystical interpretation,The Rabbis are saying “move from the idea of respecting and loving G-d to a practice to help bring that about.”

A way I practice a Sod—mystical interpretation—in my daily prayers, is when I do the practice of holding the fringes ("tzitzit”) of the prayer shawl (“tallit”) and reflect on the Torah passage, Numbers 15:38, "Speak to the children of Israel and you shall say to them that they shall make for themselves fringes (tzitzit) on the corners of their garments, throughout their generations, and that they shall affix a thread of blue on the fringe of each corner.” The formula for making the blue color has been lost, so the blue in no longer put on the fringes. As I say the prayer that speaks to this passage, I think about the ever present, but not always visible, blue of the sky, and this helps me let go of other things on my mind.

Rev. Joel Grossman is one of the founders of the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine (ChIME), and was the Director of ChIME’s Massachusetts campus. He has been a hospice chaplain for over fifteen years. Joel has been a president of his local synagogue, Ahavas Achim, in Newburyport, MA, and has led Kabbalah and Jewish meditation sessions there. He is the leader of the “Spiritual Breakfast Club.”

Faith and Potential

By The Rev. James A. Weathersby,

During these challenging times in civilizations’ collective history, we must mention COVID19, especially in our Reflectionary. To the millions of newly unemployed and the millions impacted globally, we pause and extend our heartfelt sympathy to the planetary family. Our respect for the global effort among researchers, doctors and healthcare professionals racing for a cure, working for a vaccine and ensuring the survival of the human race. This is no worst-case scenario or fanciful science fiction movie line. We human beings chose, now, to exercise our communal ‘faith’ at this time; others may prefer the synonyms of reliance, optimism, or conviction.

In my opinion, faith is an invitation. It is my experience as an Ordained Minister and a Certified Chaplain (II) that the word faith is loaded with expectation, meaning and memory. I remind our readers that faith is a religious word, a spiritually ambiguous word and a neutral word found in the dictionary. The synonyms for faith are reliance, confidence, optimism, conviction, trust, tradition and belief. I have seen this word lived out in the lives of men and women who were not all religious, but they were curious about experiences beyond their normal. They asked questions, entertained ideas and historic words that spoke to that something deeper than their conventional events. This is true for people who explore their tradition, rediscover their culture or delve into their family tree. That invitation within that word ‘faith’ can be the beginning of a spiritual journey, evolution of the human spirit and empowering a life to move forward into the unknown future. Someone said, “courage is not lack of fear, it is being afraid and going forward anyway!”

People who ask questions are engaging life. Stating “we don’t know what we don’t know” is a sign of wisdom. Here is when the bidding of faith invites our natural curiosity to find out for ourselves. People are inquisitive, why not about our spirituality? Be interested “where the sidewalk ends” (Shel Silverstein). There is always more to know; faith can be the ground out of which we stretch toward the beckoning sky.

The Rev. James A. Weathersby M.Div., BCC was born in Chicago, product of a dedicated single mother and the Public-School system. He is a genetic Baptist and a historic Democrat; spirituality in his veins for generations. His family valued Education and the Black church; there are four generations of ministers in his family, serving as Pastors of congregations and Chaplains in Institutions. His Bachelors of Arts came from Trinity Christian College in Palos Heights, Illinois from the Reformed Churches of America tradition. His Masters of Divinity Degree (specialty in Pastoral Care and Counseling) came from the southern Baptist Theological Seminary of Louisville Kentucky, from the Southern Baptist tradition. His professional career as a Chaplain includes serving populations in Hospitals, Hospice, both Men’s and Women’s Corrections (Death Row Chaplain) in several Midwestern states. His time in Maine has included Chaplaincy at a Youth Development Center, Pastor to an island congregation and lately, Chaplain (II) of the State Forensic and civil Psychiatric Center. He has been honored to be married for 27 years and enjoy writing, yoga, and reading.

Faith and Potential, painting by Valerie A. Clemons.

Tending to Heartache

By Aram Mitchell,

Today I feel adrift. I can sense the presence of unmoored grief. So I scan my heart for an anchor of insight, for wisdom that I’ve tried before and know to be true. I land, as I often do when adrift, on Audre Lorde. She knew hardship like I never will. She knew survival. Hers was the deepest wisdom, the wildest soul, the most honest hope I know.

In her book called A Burst of Light, Audre Lorde wrote: “My days are a thirsty atonal combination of the mundane and the apocalyptic.”

Apocalyptic is from the Greek apokalupsis, meaning uncover and reveal, like a ripped curtain or a broken vessel or a cracked shell.

Everyday I walk near the sea. Seagulls sit at the edges of receding tides and pluck shut clams from the salty mud. To open a clam the gull pinches it with the grip of her beak, hoists into the air to a calculated height, and then she lets the clam drop. If the clam hits the mud too soft, the gull repeats. Until, on one of the drops, the clam hits a rock or hits the mud just right and cracks open and spills its tender insides.

I am beginning to heed my heartache over little losses. The projects I was working on, stopped short. The expectations I had for the days ahead, emptied. Proximity to friends replaced with the poorly lit parlor of pixels.

Tending to heartache, no matter its severity, is rugged work. Rugged and messy and grueling.

I’ve been carrying the seagull analogy with me for days unsure of where to apply it. Am I the gull and the clam my grief? Or is my grief the gull and the clam my heart? And what are the rocks?  And what’s the mud? I don’t know.

An image resonates without an explanation, and I rest there. And I think how, at high tide, the clams will have relief. And when the coastline ebbs again toward another unveiling, the gulls will get their meal. And I still don’t know, but it’s soothing to listen to the waves.

Aram Mitchell (pronouns: he/him/his) is a Registered Maine Guide and Wilderness First Responder with a Master of Arts degree in Religious Studies from Chicago Theological Seminary. Aram lives in Maine where he serves as Executive Director of Renewal in the Wilderness, a nonprofit organization committed to helping people connect with wild nature in ways that strengthen and sustain the spirit of compassion in their lives. For more reflections by Aram: www.arammitchell.com

Beach photograph by Aram Mitchell

Hildegard of Bingen, Viriditas, and Beltane

By Mary Gelfand,

The earth of all humankind contains all moistness, all verdancy, all germinating power.  It is in so many ways fruitful.  All the other parts of creation come from it.”  —Hildegard of Bingen

Hildegard of Bingen, the phenomenal 12^th Century Rhineland mystic, created the word ‘Viriditas’ or Greening Power to describe what she considered as one of the Divine’s most valuable gifts. Viriditas is the power to bear fruit—the power to create in all ways. All of creation is “showered with greening refreshment, the vitality to bear fruit.” Greening Power makes all things grow, expand, and celebrate. She identifies moistness as a key component of Viriditas, naming the Divine as “the purest spring.”

During the last few days of regular spring rains, I’ve been reflecting on the creative alchemy of Greening Power and Moistness. Here in Maine, the spring rains serve to activate the Greening Power of the Earth. With this moistness, the very land around us grows, expands and celebrates with beauty and fruitfulness.

This alchemy of creativity is also present in the pre-Christian Celtic celebration of Beltane. Observed on May 1, Beltane celebrates fruitfulness and fertility—both intense acts of creation.  The fertility of animals and humans was essential to the survival of all ancient peoples, as was the fruitfulness of the Earth.

Beltane is one of the fire festivals in the Celtic calendar. Around this time, as cattle were moved from winter to summer pastures, they were driven between two fires—intentionally lit so that the smoke would bless and purify the animals and ensure their continued fertility.

Fire was an important aspect of Hildegard’s theology, too, and was present in many of her visions. She speaks of Fire quite eloquently referring to the “living fire” of the Creator. This Fire is “wholly alive” and ‘vivifies’ all things. She describes the creation of humans by saying “The flame … poured heat into it by way of greening power and because the earth is like the fleshy material of humans, it nourished the first person with its sap (moistness)…and the flame breathed on it so that a living person arose.”

Fire is present in the emerging Viriditas of the Earth during spring. Not all the water in the world or the most fertile soil can create Greening without the fiery energy of the Sun.

The breadth and depth of this visionary mystic intrigues me—although many of her beliefs and visions are firmly rooted in the Holy Mother Church, many others read to me as so essentially Pagan. Since I am also a Pagan and much of my spiritual work involves connecting with the Elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water—all of which are involved with Viriditas, I resonate with Hildegard in a profound manner.

And I rejoice in finding a female Christian mystic in whom the voice of the Divine Feminine was so abundantly present. She wrote, “I heard a voice from heaven say to me: ‘the all-powerful and ineffable God, who was before all ages but Herself had no beginning, nor will She cease to exist after the end of the ages—it is She who formed every creature in a marvelous way by Her own will’.”

Blessed be Viriditas and the gift of Spring.

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All quotations come from one of these sources: Illuminations of Hildegard of Bingen, by Matthew Fox and Hildegard of Bingen:  Devotions, Prayers & Living Wisdom, edited by Mirabai Starr.

Rev. Dr. Mary Gelfand is an ordained Interfaith Minister, a gifted teacher, and Wiccan High Priestess. She teaches and writes on the topics of feminist spirituality, Tarot, and Earth-centered spiritual paths. She resides in Wells with her husband Mark, two cats, and a forest full of birds, chipmunks, and other mysteries of life. You can see more of her writings at weavingthestars.blogspot.com.

Weeping willow photo by Michael & Christa Richert

The Part of You

By Gerri Ravyn Stanfield,

I want to speak to the part of you that knew the way we were living wasn’t working. Maybe it was working okay for you personally, but it wasn’t working for the majority of people in your town, and definitely not on this planet. Maybe it wasn’t quite enough not-working to actually leave. Maybe you thought it would change with time.

I want to speak to the part of you that’s been trying to manage your anxiety, or depression, or numbness, and just get through the day for as long as you can remember. I want to speak to the part of you that kept saying “this will all calm down and THEN I’ll take a break”.

I want to speak to the part of you that always suspected there was something missing. That part that kept filling a hole whose origins you didn’t understand. That part of you that could never relax into pleasure, and stop worrying about the past or scoping out the future.

I want to speak to the part of you that has always braced for an emergency. The part that used to wonder what would happen when the not-working-systems unraveled, and how we could all be much happier with less.

I want to whisper: This is the time of change for which you’ve been planning. Nothing was ever certain, we just pretended that it was. You’ve been waiting for someone to tell you when it was time, to give your cue. Here it is! It’s now.

I want to remind you that you’ve got skills that you haven’t even begun to explore. You were quite literally made for these times. Use every tool in your toolkit. Learn something new. This could be the moment to start that meditation practice, give a cause your full attention, or write the letter (or book) you’ve been putting off forever.  This could be the moment to prove your resilience to yourself.

I want you to remember you have that thing you do that heals us all just a bit. If you don’t know what that superpower is, ask your friends or family or chosen family or colleagues. Ask them how you make their life more amazing, or more bearable.

I want you to search your heart, your body, and your life experiences. What do you know how to do to help us all get through this?

I want to remind you about the time we all gathered around the fire, told stories, listened to music that made us laugh or cry, comforted each other, and shared visions for the future that seemed impossible back then. That visionary magic matters so much right now. Tap into it. Even if you’re sick or worried or terrified about finances. What do you want to create?

Yes, this hurts. How do you want this to heal? How will you help us through this? Pull out all the stops. Lay it on us. We will only get through it together.

Gerri Ravyn Stanfield is the author of Revolution of the Spirit: Awaken the Healer, a guide to liberate the healing super powers within each of us. She has been published in The Rumpus, Guernica, and Manifest Station, among others. She is the educational director of Acupuncturists Without Borders, a nonprofit organization providing trauma relief in the wake of natural disaster and human conflict. She designs trainings for emerging leaders and healers in the US, Canada, Europe, Nepal, Israel/West Bank, and Australia.

Ravyn is a cultural alchemist, writing to transform the heartbreak of our times and reveal gold in what seems worthless. She uses her background in trauma recovery, neurobiology, psychology, writing, and performance to coax more of the extraordinary into the world through the cracks in Western civilization. www.gerriravynstanfield.com

Fire photo by Kevin Erdvig

 

Happy Day

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CcCCS-HaTE

Words and Music by Todd Glacy

I’m making a happy day, I’m making a happy dayNo matter what comes my way, I’m making a happy day

No matter what I see I know it’s all up to meI get to choose my state of mindAnd no matter what is real I can change the way I feel,And I can leave my fears behind

And make it a happy day, yes I’m making it a happy dayNo matter what comes my way I’m making it a happy day

If something gets me down I can turn it all around,‘Cause I get to choose my state of mindJust a touch of gratitiude and I can change my attitude,And feeling better I will find

That I’m making a happy day, yes I’m making a happy dayAnd not matter what life sends my way I’m making it a happy dayYes I’m making it a happy dayToday is gonna be a happy day!

 

Rev. Todd Glacy, MA, is an enlightenment advocate, empowerment coach and instigator of Joy! Based in Maine, he travels extensively as a guest presenter (speaker, educator, musician and workshop facilitator) sharing his ministry of Sacred Sound and Living, inspiring and empowering people to live happy, healthy, peaceful and more fulfilling lives. To learn more about Todd, visit www.sacredsoundandliving.com.

Listen

By Sarah Siegel,

Fear says"what if thisis the end of the world?"Love askswith a tender and open smile"Oh, my precious child,what if this is the beginning?"

Don’t lose hopeDon’t let fear harden youLean in to the unimaginable.Dare to laughamidst disastereven with shattered dreamsand a broken heartthat cries for all those suffering.

Dare to loveeven noweven here.Remember who you are,without all the layersof conditioning.

Come homeAgainAndAgain.Bathe in the beautyAll around.Remember, dear childThe sky and earthStillSing.

It is up to usTolisten.

Rev. Sarah Siegel was Ordained as an Interfaith Minister through ChIME in 2013. Currently, she also works as a Recovery Coach, Mindfulness Meditation Coach and Writer.

Sarah has been in recovery from Opioid Use Disorder and Substance Use Disorder since 2007 and from working in the sex industry since 2003. Given this, much of her writing centers on healing from addiction and trauma. Sarah writes regularly for Recovery Journey Magazine and has been published in Lion’s Roar Magazine as well.

In her spare time, Sarah enjoys being with her three children, meditating and reading. She also enjoys public speaking, finding ways to tell her story of recovery and challenging the stigma around Substance Use Disorder.

Art from The Gaian Tarot.  Used with permission of the artist, Joanna Powell Colbert. www.gaiantarot.com

In this Emerging Season

By Lisa Steele-Maley

Last week, I hit the proverbial wall. When an event that I had been planning to attend Saturday was cancelled, I had an opportunity to recalibrate. For 72 hours, I did not set my morning alarm, follow routines, or engage expectations or needs from the outside world. I didn’t insist on anything, except for being non-productive. As I observed my impatience and then eventually relaxed and found stillness, I regained some balance. I emerged rested.

Over the same 72 hours that I was in retreat, our community began rising in response to the coronavirus in amazing and beautiful ways. Individuals, organizations, and schools prioritized community health and safety over any other agenda. I have never seen this kind of compassionate, selflessness on this scale in my lifetime. I am falling in love with humanity anew. Business as usual has been interrupted in a most extraordinary way.

There are disappointments, inconveniences, and real hardships involved in this interruption and the impact will not be evenly distributed amongst our population. Those who are most vulnerable, due to age, illness, or access to resources will be hit the hardest by the virus and the response to it. There is injustice. There is fear. There is even death. We will all be touched by deep, heart-opening loss. But there is also great love in our collective response. I am encouraged by that. I am praying that we may use this time to recalibrate and begin to move towards a world that is more just, more sustainable, more aligned with our true nature.

I do not have any answers, but I am sitting with questions, openness, curiosity and a strong belief in our capacity for change. Hope lives here. I offer it to you:

As we slow down and encounter our fears, worries, and regrets:What possibilities will we find in the spaciousness of our newly collapsed schedules?What love and peace will hold us aloft?What belonging will soothe our isolation?

As we spend more time in our homes and local communities:What bridges will we build?What support will we offer to others?What support will we need from others?

As we notice the impacts of our lives on the lives of others:Will we claim our participation in the web of life?Will we remember the legacy of survival that ensured our own lives?Will we remember that we will one day be the ancestors in someone else’s story?

As we recognize our depth of responsibility to the interconnected human family,Will we also notice our interconnection with all living beings?Will we notice our interconnection with the living, pulsing earth?Will we notice that we are, in fact, one?

The lily and tulip spears nudging through the barely thawed soil in my yard are a prelude to the emerging season. May we also enter this new season as neophytes, open to the promise and surprise of our own unfolding.

May you be safe. May you be healthy. May you be at peace.

After growing up in small towns of New England and Wisconsin, Lisa developed a strong connection to the affirming rhythms of the natural world while working in the mountains and coasts of Alaska and Washington. She currently lives in an aging farmhouse on the coast of Maine with her husband, two teenage sons, and a handful of animals. Lisa was ordained an Interfaith Minister by the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine (ChIME) in June of 2019. She is the author of, Without A Map: A Caregiver’s Journey through the Wilderness of Heart and Mind. Lisa shares reflections regularly at lisa.steelemaley.io

Lily spears image by Lisa Steele-Maley

Handel’s Messiah

By Helen Rousseau,

Recently, I’ve been listening to Handel’s Messiah.  As an Interfaith Minister, my journey has led me through the path of rejection of institutional religions, especially my Catholic background, to a new understanding of God, the Divine, Ultimate Consciousness or Unconditional Love.  I have come full circle and can listen, with new ears, to Handel’s Messiah without the overlay of religious interpretations. It begins “Comfort ye my people.” When I sit in the Presence of all that is, I find comfort, my heart hears the message as well as the call to go out into the world and give comfort, however I am called to do that.

“For unto us a child is born.” Today the children of this world are our teachers, scolding us for how we have treated our mother earth. The children are leading the way like Greta Thunberg telling the members of the United Nations, “Shame on you.”

“Rejoice O Daughter of Zion.” As women, we are being called to bring feminist energy into the world, into politics and the workplace. As we have nurtured families for millennia, we are now being called out of our families into the public sphere to radiate a hope for humanity that has been lost in the patriarchal rhetoric, especially that of organized religion.

“Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight and the rough places plain.” If I was a prophet, calling out to the people today, I would say, “You who have been on the mountain of money and greed, watch out. For the lowly are rising from the valleys you have cornered them in, from the poverty you have inflicted on them, and they will not so much enact revenge on you, as they will bring you low by their courage and bravery, by their true source of power: their inner light.

“Come unto Him(Her) all ye that labor and you shall find rest unto your soul.”

And thus, the old becomes new again.

Helen is an ordained Interfaith Minister.  She was a Catholic nun for thirty years and spirituality has always been central to her life. The transition from nun to Interfaith Minister was a very long journey, but to paraphrase C.S. Lewis: After all our exploring, we arrive where we started and though it is familiar, it is totally new.

Helen is the author of Coming to The Edge: Fifty Poems for Writing and Healing. She leads writing classes using her book and has witnessed deep healing from the writing process, in herself and in her students. This book is also used by many therapists with their clients. Visit Helen at helenrousseau.com

Organ image by Andrea Don

Passover Through the Eyes of a Non-Religious, Practicing Jew

By Sarah Elkins,

We moved to Helena, Montana, a small, mostly white Christian town, with no synagogue and not a single box of matzah to be found in April, 1999.

Two years later, we hosted 18 guests at our table for a Passover Seder, some Jewish, some not. We used a pieced-together Haggadah (prayer book specifically for that holiday) that I had created to make sure we covered only the critical parts of the Seder without losing any guests (or our young children) to boredom and starvation. It was a hit. Everyone loved it. Especially popular was the brisket, Aunt Leslie’s famous recipe, and the homemade matzoh ball soup I had simmered all day. For the next 15 years, I prepared each Spring for larger and larger celebrations, some included Holocaust survivors as guests, an awesome experience for everyone.

Though we never considered ourselves religious, we always identified as Jews, the distinction being our love for the rituals and values of our culture and upbringing. When our younger son was studying for his Bar Mitzvah, he asked why we continued this tradition, despite our lack of a synagogue and our religious ambivalence.

I love that Jews take the opportunity at an angsty time in life, to turn toward learning and personal growth and take the focus off that difficult transition from childhood to adulthood. Practicing for a Bar Mitzvah takes dedication and focus, and builds skills in public speaking and confidence. Plus, because we don’t have a synagogue or Hebrew school, I’m teaching you to read Hebrew, I’m teaching you the prayers of gratitude. This is precious time we’re spending together that we wouldn’t have otherwise.”

Each boy completed his Bar Mitzvah with grace and competence, and they talk about them with appreciation and pride.

My father died on February 22, 2014. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to host a large group Seder that year, especially with our younger son’s Bar Mitzvah coming up in June, so it was just our family at the table. We had the traditional foods, did the rituals of the Seder, and enjoyed a quiet ceremony. While we were in the kitchen cleaning up, our older son asked me why we continued this tradition, especially that year.

Pesach is my favorite holiday. There is something comforting about feeding people and leading them in a ceremony that not only honors the past, but reminds us of our responsibility to the future. It’s about gratitude and the value of diversity, keeping traditions and cultures alive, avoiding assimilation, and storytelling. Passover is a reminder that the greatest mitzvah (good deed/commandment) is to bring people together, to feed them, to nourish them through conversation, respect, and dignity, and to honor our differences, not hide or ignore them."

Our Passover traditions will be deeply ingrained in our memories, informing our behavior and gently reminding us that we are Jewish, with all the responsibilities and joy that entails.

Sarah is a communication coach, Gallup certified Strengths coach, keynote speaker, author, and professional musician. Her podcast and upcoming book, Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will, help listeners and readers understand that the stories they choose to tell, and how they choose to tell them, impact their internal messages and the perceptions of the people around them.

She knows that the key to satisfaction and happiness in life is healthy relationships, and the keys to healthy relationships are self-reflection and communication. Her ultimate goal is to help bring self-reflection and positive intention to the workforce in her work as a communication and public speaking coach, and as a keynote speaker.www.elkinsconsulting.comPodcast: Your Stories Don't Define You, How You Tell Them Will

A Time to Weep

By Rev. Sarah Bartlett

A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”–Ecclesiastes 3:4

When was the first time you felt deep grief? That grief which enters into your bones, and soaks into your soul?Was it from the death of a loved one or the loss of a relationship?Was it from the loss of a job you loved?Was it losing your home?Was it from being in a natural disaster and the experience of instability?Was it from a diagnosis which impacts you and changes everything?We live in a culture and society that do not understand or appreciate grief.

Grief is the recognition that something hurts.  Much like the tips of our fingers hurt when we touch something hot, our souls hurt when we are touched by something that disrupts our stability and our love for the other. We must learn to honor our grief and allow it space to be with us. It is teaching us to be careful, to be aware, to be tender with ourselves.

During this time of the C-19, there is a lot of grief. In my own family, Josh is grieving the loss of all the hard work he put into the local Science Olympiad, only to have it cancelled. In other homes, college and high school seniors are grieving the loss of the "hurrah" of the last semester, and family members who have underlying physical and emotional issues are grieving the loss of contact with other human beings.

During this time, our natural response is to connect to our faith, through each other. To reduce the anxiety within our spirits we seek others who feel the same way. We have seen this before, after 911 church attendance rose. After the last election, church attendance in moderate to liberal churches rose...most people want to be with other people when they hurt. It is who we are.

With this virus, we are being asked to behave counter to our emotional instincts, and this itself can cause us deep grief. Isolation is a real fear, not connecting with God through shared prayer is a real fear, not hearing and seeing someone go through a traumatic experience with you is a real fear. The grief folks are experiencing is real.

This virus is our chance to live out our Christian faith in ways we have not done before. This disease is one where Christians can hold the opportunity to live as Jesus commands us, protecting the vulnerable as best we can. Just as our faith is not about "me", the C-19 is not about "me."

This is hard—if you are hurting, allow yourself to grieve. Grief is your soul telling you to care for yourself. Find other ways to connect, call others, write cards, write letters, meditate, write stories. If isolation is getting you down, reach out the best way you can. Just as God is with us always, even when we can't see God, we are with each other always, even as we can't see each other. Use this time of Lent to do as we are called, re-connect with God in our individual way.

Care for yourselves and know that your feelings, whatever they are, are valid. Know you are loved, and that you are loving.



Rev. Bartlett is a graduate of Andover Newton, now part of Yale Divinity and is the pastor and teacher of the Parish Church in Alfred, Maine. She serves on the Board of the United Church of Christ’s Maine Conference, is a chaplain at Pilgrim Lodge (an outdoor ministry camp), serves as Chair of the UCC York Association’s missions committee, and in the past served as a community chaplain at Bates College, and on call chaplain at Maine Medical Center. She is a trained facilitator for the UCC/UU human sexuality program Our Whole Lives, and is always willing to volunteer as “Chaplain of the Day,’ for the Maine House of Representatives. Rev. Bartlett currently lives in Auburn, Maine with her husband Jeremiah, sons Josh (16) and Tristan (6). Completing the family is their dog Amelia, and cat Merlin. Her places of hope are found by the ocean, walking in the woods, and in reading a good book.

Angel image by Melissa Anthony