Dare to Feel Joy

IN TIMES LIKE THESE by Phyllis Cole-Dai

The wound is the place where the light enters you.  —Rumi

In times like these we must dare to feel joy.
We cannot wait till every line

of thunder has marched through to the east.
Our job is to make love to this world now

when the luminosity of love being made
can reveal how everything matters.

There is no storm this light cannot enter,
no dark so turbulent, dense, and hard

this light will not break through— 
light will keep coming for you

like a mama bear who hears your forsaken cries 
and huffs over the river rocks to save you. 

It’s still the dead of night when she spots you
high in the pine tree fear made you climb.

Are you not glad to be found?

+++

To see images of reunited families has brought me to tears this week— how rare it has become to see any embodiment of joy on the faces of Jewish or Palestinian people for the last two years. Seeing the relief and joy of the hostages coming home felt like watching a miracle. Likewise, to see Palestinian prisoners released to their families was like watching rain fall in the desert. 

With this amazing joy there is also so much grief, rage, and wreckage left behind. It feels like only a courageous path of vulnerability will be able to transform deep-seated resentments toward a way of hope and healing. My prayer for peace in the Middle East is a prayer for the kind of deep, ongoing reckoning exhibited through the process of restorative justice.

In the wake of news we have prayed for and news we are weary of, I take on Phyllis Cole-Dei's words to heart "in times like these we must dare to feel joy." Always we are on the brink of beauty just as we could be on the brink of breaking, so let us find ways to find joy in the hope of right now. Let us remember what it's like to be held tightly by those who love us. From that space of love, let us have ears like the mama bear who hears the cries for rebuilding, for healing, for peace-making, and finds a way to create a safe place for those in our care. Perhaps it is in these actions we can find a way toward that kind of abundant hope we so crave in our world. Perhaps it is in these things our true purpose resides: to hold what is good, keep safe the vulnerable around us, and dare to feel joy on the journey.

With Joy and Gratitude,
Pastor Laruen

Moving from Scarcity to Plenty

Moving from Scarcity to Plenty

Mark Nepo reminds us of an old story: "A young man [is] freezing on the side of the road in Alaska. He's hitching a ride to Miami. He's so cold he can barely hold up his handmade sign. After a long wait, a friendly trucker stops and says, 'I'm not going to Miami, but I'm going as far as Fort Lauderdale [the city just north of Miami].' Dejectedly, the young man says, 'Oh,' and turns the ride down. This folk myth of our modern culture warns us against our want for perfection…”

Nepo asks us: “How often do we refuse our fate under the guise of holding out for the right thing? How often do we turn down the path presented like a gift because it's not exactly what we're dreaming of? How often do we hold out for the perfect partner, the perfect job, the perfect house? How often do we martyr ourselves to some imagined ideal? How often do we lose sight of what we're really after, insisting on all or nothing, when there is so much abundance?”

This week, we are starting a new series: Six Stone Jars, where we focus on the economy of Jesus rather than the economy of the world. In our time, it would be easy to believe there is not enough of anything. Not enough land, not enough jobs, not enough healthcare, not enough room in our hearts for people who are different. While it may be true that our politics embody a world with not enough compassion, not enough empathy, and not enough care, we might miss what there is more than enough of so many things. How might we be transformed as we look around and see not scarcity but plenty? How can we see something new when we let go of the notion that perfection is the goal? How will we embrace the opportunity to work with the world as it is instead of only seeing things as it could be? 

God of abundance, we thank you for the infinite ways there are to do good. When we find ourselves looking for that “perfect” thing or way of being, restore our vision for the world to notice all the many paths we can take toward restoration, wholeness, and goodness. Transform our understanding so that we can focus our attention on the plenty that surrounds us. 

Remembering Dr. Jane Goodall

Remembering Dr. Jane Goodall (1934–2025)

“Each one of us matters, has a role to play, and makes a difference. Each one of us must take responsibility for our own lives, and above all, show respect and love for living things around us, especially each other.”

― Jane Goodall, Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey

Jane Goodall was one of my childhood heroes. A funny fact about me: because of Jane, as a young child, I used to collect stuffed animal monkeys. I probably had 30 or 40 of them!

Dr. Jane became known around the world for her 65-year study of wild chimpanzees in Gombe, Tanzania. In 1960, she made the groundbreaking discovery that chimpanzees not only use but also create tools. She observed them stripping the leaves off twigs to “fish” for termites. This is significant, because at the time, science held the belief that tool-making was uniquely human. Her discovery fundamentally redefined what it meant to be human and helped widened our understanding of the connections and similarities we had to all of God's creation. 

But Jane showed us much more than tool use. She revealed that chimpanzees express emotions such as grief, joy, rage, and reconciliation. Through her work, she forced us to re-examine many of the definitions that were linked to humans alone, such has intelligence, morality, and meaningful relationships. She awakened us to the urgent need to protect chimpanzees, along with countless other species and ecosystems, from extinction.

What made her so inspiring was not only her brilliance, but also her way of connecting with and respecting all creatures. She reminded us that every living being is worthy of compassion, care, and respect. For many of us, she sparked a lifelong love of animals and nature. She helped us realize we are still only beginning to get a glimpse at the vast intelligence, beauty, and mystery held by the living world. Sometimes we just need to take the time to look with love and curiosity to discover what has been there all along. Paying attention and not looking away are forms of activism in of themself.

So today, as we remember and honor Dr. Jane Goodall, I find myself asking: How are we called to be stewards of this Earth? How can we continue to learn to see every living thing as part of the greater family to which we all belong? How do we remember that there isn’t a day that goes by where we do not have an impact on this planet?

So let us remember that each of us, ourselves included, has the power to shape the future we long for. We are ones we have been waiting for. We must care for all living things. We must believe that the greatest and most loving discoveries of our world are still ahead of us. And these discoveries that will come if we continue to look with curiosity, humility, and care.

Rest in power, Jane. Thank you for showing us another way of living and being. Thank you for showing us your love.

With love,
Pastor Eli

A Bethany Fellows Reflection

A Bethany Fellows Reflection

As the sunset over Bellwether Farm, I reflected on my last retreat as a Bethany Fellow. Since 2020, I have had the incredible privilege of being a part of a group of pastors serving their first parish. The Bethany Way is rooted in prayer, silence, contemplation, and community. We take time to share our questions, our growing edges, and what we notice about the movement of the Spirit in our lives, churches, and world. We engage in learning wise practices from other ministers during a day of continuing education. We listen to the Spirit and rest in a day of silence. And we explore the local area in an afternoon and evening of adventure. 

This time, as I journaled during the sunset in my last day of silence as a Fellow, I thought about our growth as a community and mine as a minister within it. I gave thanks for this community so rooted in abundance and learning. And, I thought about how comfortable I have become with silence. 

My first retreat, I entered the day of silence with anxiety and a plan. I scheduled myself for each hour of the day, a writing prompt here, meditation there, reading two chapters before lunch etc. This time, I entered into silence with only unanswerable questions and no plan. It was a most holy day of exploration, rest, and reflection.  

Before entering into silence we meet in small groups to discuss what we are carrying into it. Watching the shadows grow long across the farm, I realized have come a long way from expecting a quick answer from God. I realized I have become more comfortable with the silence, with the questions, with sitting on the liminal. 

Coming out of silence with the same small group, I shared with them my urge for reconciliation, for answers, for a landing place — and how during this silence I came to understand how following the Bethany Way is not about seeking silence for the purpose of hearing a specific answer from God but instead is about befriending the liminal, befriending the silence, befriending the questions. 

Thank you, church, for your support of my participation of this program that has taught me how to befriend the silence. This weekend, I wonder what wisdom you might find in yourself if you too befriend the Bethany Way, accepting the invitation to sitting in the questions, befriending the liminal, and welcoming the silence.  

With gratitude and thanksgiving,

Pastor Lauren 

Lost by David Wagoner 

Lost

Stand still. 
The trees ahead and bushes beside you

Are not lost. 
Wherever you are is called Here,

And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,

Must ask permission to know it and be known.

The forest breathes. Listen.
It answers,
I have made this place around you.

If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.

No two trees are the same to Raven.

No two branches are the same to Wren.

If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,

You are surely lost. Stand still. 
The forest knows
Where you are. 
You must let it find you.

The Psalmist Who Cries, Laments, and Rages

Beloved Community,

My bones and my heart continue to ache these days. We are living in a time of deep violence. And perhaps, truthfully, we always have been. Earlier this week, two lives were lost in ways that demand our attention. A 21-year-old Black man from Mississippi, Trey Reed, was found hanging from a tree. That very same day, Cory Zukatis, a 36-year-old white, unhoused man, was also found hanging from a tree.

Within hours, the police disregarded the details surrounding his death and ruled out foul play in Trey Reed’s death. To accept vague explanations surrounding his death without deeper investigation is to echo a long legacy of silence, denial, and complicity. We cannot and will not forget the long and devastating history of racial terror and anti-Black violence in Mississippi and across this nation. It dishonors Trey, his family, and his community who loved him so dearly. His loved ones deserve truth, transparency, and justice. And we, as part of the human family, deserve the same. We must hold onto truth. We must demand truth. We must speak truth even if our voices shake. We must speak up even when we don't always know exactly how to say it.

As we dwell in the psalms together at church, I am reminded of the psalmists who cry out, who lament, who even rage at God. They remind us that it is faithful to grieve, faithful to cry out, faithful even to shout our anger at God. It is faithful and holy work to name violence, to grieve, and to cry out for something better. And still, in the midst of lament and fear and the unknown, the psalmists remind us that hope has the last word. Love has the last word. Justice has the last word. 

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Change is often slow, and often painful, but it does come. Love will win. Justice will win. Truth will win. And we do not say these words with empty actions. We must know that the arc does not bend on its own. It bends because we refuse to let white supremacy, state violence, and systemic neglect be the final word. We are invited and called to be part of that love, part of that justice, part of that hope that makes the world a better place for us all.

So let us pray and dream together, with the words of Mark Miller’s song, “I Dream of a Church”:

I dream of a place we all can call home
I dream of a world where justice is flowing
With hope and peace growing,
Where God’s will is done

O God fill our hearts to reach out in welcome 
Make us to see your vision once more 
Let's dream of a world 
Where our hands are your hands 
We offer ourselves O God make it so

O Holy One, we truly pray for the day when we believe our hands are Your hands. Your hands of healing, of welcome, of justice, of peace. Make it so, God. Make it so.

With love, grief, outrage, and hope,

Pastor Eli  

Blessing in a Time of Violence

Today, my bones ached when waking. Perhaps yours did too, seeing the date September 11 on your calendar; thinking about the violence and terror of that day; thinking about the violence and terror in the days, in the years after. For me that feeling only worsened reading more about the assassination of Charlie Kirk yesterday, learning more about yet another school shooting on the same afternoon. In our society that is saturated with violent speech, violent action, and where retaliation seems such a tightly held value, the air feels thick with worry, sorrow, and fear. 

As a community of faith, we are people who uphold the values of inclusion, community, spiritual transformation, and justice. We believe that all people should be able to flourish, and not at the expense of others. This week we are reminded of the urgency of these values. This week when the Supreme Court gave legal authority to use racial profiling during immigration sweeps and raids. This week that is marked by political, social, and school violence. So, let us stand firm in our values that are centered on love, not hate. As Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., he himself also a victim of political assassination, said, “Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” Even though Charlie Kirk’s words have been used against the LGBTQ community, even though his words incited violence, it is only compassion, it is only love that will ultimately win; the killing of Kirk is wrong. Children having access to weapons is wrong. Racial profiling is wrong.

This week, we are starting a new series: Our Core Calling: A Series on Our Core Values. This series seems timely as we will be invited to consider what it means to live into the heart of who we are and what we believe at MCCGSL. This series will allow us to dive deeper into what it means to be a community rooted in radical inclusion, nourished in queer community, transformed by God’s liberating love, and to be a people embodied in justice. In this season of worship (and always) we will celebrate a faith and a God where everyone belongs at the table, where love resists exclusion, where lives are renewed by Love’s deep and warming presence, and where worship overflows into action both within and beyond our church walls. 

Friends, wherever you are in your sorrow, your rage, your questions, know you are held in community and you are not alone. In these violent times, let us not turn toward violence ourselves, but increase our capacity for compassion, kindness, and love. Perhaps the sign at a neighboring church sums our charge up best: “Do small things with great love.” 

Blessing in a Time of Violence
by Jan Richardson

Which is to say
this blessing
is always.
Which is to say
there is no place
this blessing
does not long
to cry out
in lament,
to weep its words
in sorrow,
to scream its lines
in sacred rage.

Which is to say
there is no day
this blessing ceases
to whisper
into the ear
of the dying,
the despairing,
the terrified.
Which is to say
there is no moment
this blessing refuses
to sing itself
into the heart
of the hated
and the hateful,
the victim
and the victimizer,
with every last
ounce of hope
it has.

Which is to say
there is none
that can stop it,
none that can
halt its course,
none that will
still its cadence,
none that will
delay its rising,
none that can keep it
from springing forth
from the mouths of us
who hope,
from the hands of us
who act,
from the hearts of us
who love,
from the feet of us
who will not cease
our stubborn, aching
marching, marching

until this blessing
has spoken
its final word,
until this blessing
has breathed
its benediction
In every place,
in every tongue:

Peace.
Peace.
Peace.

May our hearts burn with love, 
Pastors Lauren & Eli 

Praying in Love: Prayers During Times of Violence

Today, we sit in the grief of a school year that begins with a school shooting. I’m struck by the words of the mayor of Minneapolis, Jacob Frey who said, “Don’t just say this is about ‘thoughts and prayers’ right now. These kids were literally praying.” All around St. Louis, too, children were praying in their own all school masses, and many districts held previously scheduled active shooter drills. What will it take for us to learn that more guns are not the answer? 

In our community, we hold the complexity of the shooter being of trans experience with tenderness. Hurt people hurt people. In a tragedy like this, we pray for all those who are hurt. All the failed systems. All the wounded healers. All the heartbreak. All the empty seats. And, we work for those same people and families. We work so that our streets become safer not because there are more weapons but because there are fewer. We work so that Catholics can worship in peace and trans kids can receive the care they need. We work to open our own hearts to things we don’t understand. 

Last night, at an event held by Margaret of Scotland Parish in St. Louis, a panel discussion on LGBTQ inclusion was held. We prayed for the violence of our world, for broken families, and hear stories of the ways some in the Catholic Church are shaping the conversation toward inclusion of LGBTQ people. It was a healing evening full of hope.

And so we work and we pray. We pray, not in the ways prayer can be used as an excuse to dismiss the pain, our complicity in living in a society that holds guns with such reverence, but we pray to discern our part in the solution. We pray to channel our energy to the broken and brokenhearted. We pray to bind our destinies to the work of love. And so, as we watch for legislature in our cities, counties, and states, we pray that our next steps become clear.

Let us pray these words by Padraig O’Tuama: 
God of day and night, 
In the great poem of creation 
we read that 
we were considered very good, 
and that you 
find glory
in us.

We look around our city: 
the birds finding home 
the name of it 
the shape of it
the bustle and magnificence of it 

the poverty of it 
the complicity of it 
the repressed stories of it

the generosity of it 
the corners of kindness 
on every corner

the future of it 
the past it hides from 
greed and goodness 
violence and visions 
burdens and bodies 
everywhere.

We pray for our city 
and for the cities we are.

Breathe in us
just like you always do and renew us 
with every twilight 
with every morning 
with every encounter 
with every opportunity.

With you in every breath, every action of love, and every prayer,
Pastor Lauren