Category: Blessings

I Hear the Sound of Breaking Hearts

I hear the sound of breaking hearts.

Tender, young hearts, open and hopeful,
Facing betrayal from the church which formed them.

Scarred, resilient, older hearts,
Once-healed wounds torn open by hatred and prejudice.

I know the pain of a breaking heart.
The shock, the sadness,
The emptiness that has no end.

Beloveds,
You are held,
You are loved.

Your wounds are tended
By the One who knew you before you were imagined,
The One who whispers,
“I created you,
And I love you
Just the way you are.”

Henri Nouwen said it this way:

Long before your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your school, your church touched you, loved you, and wounded you — long before that you were held safe in an eternal embrace.
—Henri J. M. Nouwen
Our First Love

A Kaddish for My Mother

I’m grateful to Rabbi David Horowitz, Academy faculty presenter this week. He taught us the Kaddish, the prayer prayed to the Holy One on the anniversary of the deaths of our loved ones. Today I remember Mom.

Exalted and hallowed be God’s great name in the world which God created, according to plan. May God’s majesty be revealed in the days of our lifetime and the life of all Israel — speedily, imminently, to which we say: Amen.

Blessed be God’s great name to all eternity.

Blessed, praised, honored, exalted, extolled, glorified, adored, and lauded be the name of the Holy Blessed One, beyond all earthly words and songs of blessing, praise, and comfort. To which we say: Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and all Israel. To which we say: Amen.

May the One who creates harmony on high, bring peace us and to all Israel. To which we say: Amen.

Version of the Kaddish, praising God, that mourners recite during the bereavement period and to mark the anniversary of a death of a loved one. From Mishkan T’filah.

A Blessing of the Wounds (#metoo)

Bless, O bless these wounds,
God, the healer.
Fresh wounds, still bleeding.
Tender hearts, tender spirits.
An innocent crossing the path of violence.
Bless, O bless these wounds.

Bless, O bless these wounds,
God, the comforter.
Old wounds, healed over,
But suddenly reopened,
Tender hearts, tender spirits.
Wounds inflicted by stories in the news.
Bless, O bless these wounds.

Bless, O bless these wounds,
God of tenderheartedness.
Hidden wounds, forgotten, never known,
Tear through the layers of memory.
Wounds, long buried, rise to the surface.
Bless, O bless these wounds.

Bless, O bless these wounds,
God, of justice.
And bless those bearing these wounds:
Victim or survivor,
Angry prophet or weeping child,
Tender hearts and tender spirits.
Bless, O bless these wounds.

A Blessing for Those Who Wait

For those who wait
In despair,
In grief,
In sorrow.
You are comfort.
You are strength.

For those who wait
In the paths of storms,
In detention camps,
In hospice rooms.
You are comfort.
You are strength.

For those who wait
In tender hope,
In tear-streaked sadness,
In fearful anticipation.
You are comfort.
You are strength.

Bless, Loving Healer,
All those who wait.
You are comfort.
You are strength.

We drove over to Western North Carolina yesterday for a weekend retreat. Driving east were caravans of utility trucks getting into place to respond to the damage of Hurricane Florence. The retreat center where we are staying is filled with residents, employees, and families of employees from a retirement center in Charleston, South Carolina.

This day, I think of those throughout the world who are waiting — for the arrival of a storm, those watching the “drip, drip, drip” of chemotherapy. I pray for those who wait by the hospice bed of a loved one, for children and families in detention camps on our southern border, for families waiting for results of medical tests, for all who wait in fear and sadness and grief.

The Unwinding

How strange and wonderful that I can wake up in the hot, humid south and go to sleep in the cool mountains of Colorado.

Today is my first full day of seven here in this beautiful place.

I took two naps after lunch and then walked down by the river to see what was blooming and what I’ve missed in my two-year absence.

I stopped to visit with my favorite wildflower. The shooting star by the river was still there, yellowing and dying back so that it can bloom again next spring.

What comfort to find this place of stability in a world that is ever-changing and often feels out of control.

Now I need to unwind, to let go of the chatter, to be let myself be fully present to this time of rest.

Feast Day of Colmcille

Today we celebrate the feast day of St. Colmcille, the Irish monk who lived and walked in Ireland and then went across the sea and founded Iona.

Last year in July, we walked the Turas Cholmcille in County Donegal that people will walk today.

Let me bless almighty God, whose power extends over sea and land, whose angels watch over all. Let me study sacred books to calm my soul; I pray for peace, kneeling at heaven’s gates. Let me do my daily work, gathering seaweed, catching fish, giving food to the poor. Let me say my daily prayers, sometimes chanting, sometimes quiet, always thanking God. Delightful it is to live on a peaceful isle, in a quiet cell, serving the King of kings.
– Columba Celtic Fire: The Passionate Religious Vision of Ancient Britain and Ireland edited by Robert Van de Weyer

Brigid of Kildare

The Feast Day of Brigid of Kildare is February 1. When we were in Ireland in July, we walked in Brigid’s footsteps in Kildare at her cathedral and at her well. But Brigid was everywhere we went, and it was in the west in County Donegal where we learned to make Brigid’s crosses and heard the story of how the cross of reeds became her symbol.

Brigid was explaining Christianity to her father and took up the reeds from the floor of the cottage and wove them into a cross. On St. Brigid’s day, people still make Brigid’s crosses and remember Brigid.