The news keeps getting worse. I would love to be able to turn away, go back to bed and hide under a large blanket, but I don’t feel that’s very responsible for a preacher who is supposed to offer words of hope every week. Words of encouragement like “you are a beloved child of God.” How do I even do that when there is so much evil and malice in the world?
Well, as I continue to say … it really is a spiritual practice. In the last few years I have been constantly berating myself for letting go of the spiritual practices that have strengthened and carried me over the years … specifically daily meditation (very sporadic now) and journaling (never), and group prayer several times a week. Instead, I find I am one of those who spends an inordinate amount of time scrolling through social media.
And yes, often it is depressing. But more and more I am finding odd and quirky stories of hope, resilience and community that uplift me and remind me that humankind is capable of goodness … and kindness … and even laughter.
So if it’s delusional to think of my semi addiction to social media as a spiritual practice, so be it. “Look for the helpers” as Mr. Rogers said.
A few stories and reflections from this week …
There is lots out there as we once again mark the anniversary of 9/11 … 24 years ago. It’s one of those moments in history when those of us, even young people, who are old enough to remember are able to recall in fine detail exactly where they were that day. I was on my hands and knees in the chapel in Evaristus Hall at Mount Saint Vincent University, crafting a huge labyrinth with a Canadian Tire tarp and duct tape. I took a break and walked down to my office to find the whole Student Affairs Department crowded around a fuzzy black and white TV set just as a plane hit the second tower.
Within several hours we were informed that it was all hands on deck … a planeload of passengers would be arriving at the university, cots and supplies were being delivered to the Multipurpose Room and the Red Cross and volunteers were mobilizing teams of people to provide services to several hundred people for who knows how long. It all seems a bit surreal looking back.
Ten years later I was in Corrymeela, planning a 10th anniversary prayer service in the chapel with one of the American long term volunteers. I remember telling that story and also showing pictures of the parked planes in Gander. No one believed me. Now of course, we have Come From Away, the amazing (and hilarious!) story of how a small community came together to welcome approximately 7,000 visitors on that day. If you haven’t seen that play yet, which has traveled the world, I suggest you immediately get a ticket to Neptune for the production next spring. I have seen it twice – including taking my good friend from Northern Ireland when he visited Toronto a few years ago. It is an amazing story.
This week I read about Roselle and Salty … two guide dogs that calmly led dozens of people to safety. You can see videos and read their stories on (guess what) social media … here’s Roselle’s story:
Guide Dog Roselle Helped Her Blind Owner Escape 9/11
Social media also helped me understand more fully a story that Ann told me this week. I got back from lunch with a colleague and she came into my office to consult with me about something, and walked over to the window. “Did you see what happened?” Which I hadn't.
She said “A crow got hit by a car. It was obviously dead. Within a very short time the overhead lines were filled with crows making an awful racket. It was very upsetting.” We both looked out the window. The crow’s body was gone.
The story continued to slosh around in the back of my mind for a couple of day. I was remembering something. As I was looking at the notes I make on my phone for when I get the start of an idea about what to write about in my blog I saw the words “when a crow dies …”
I googled those words. Sure enough, videos, stories … you can spend hours reading about it, or watching videos. Scientists have done PhDs studying it. Try it. I texted Ann.
“I think what you saw was a crow funeral” I said. She got back to me. “Yes” she wrote back after looking it up … “that’s exactly what I saw.”
Look for the helpers. Or for me … sometimes it’s look for the miracles.
Yesterday morning this came across my Facebook from Corrymeela and I immediately shared it. I know many of you aren’t on Facebook so I have reposted here.The community has wonderful poets and theologians that seem to be able to articulate what I am unable to …
“The news today is of violence. An assassination in Utah. Russian military drones in Poland. Missile attacks against peace negotiators in Qatar. The relentless, indescribable hell of conditions in Gaza.
Today is a day to weep with those who weep. And a time to turn to each other not against each other.”
*A prayer in times of violence*
(P ÓTuama)
God of all humanity,
in times of violence
we see how inhuman we can be.
We pray for those who, today, are weighed down by grief.
We pray today for those who, yesterday, were weighed down by grief.
And the day before,
and all the days before the day before.
We pray, too, for those who help us turn towards justice and peace.
Turn us all towards justice and peace
because we need it.
Amen.”
