Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Dim Shadows in a Mirror (Midweek)



Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message
January 20, 2016
Dim Shadows in a Mirror
 
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but one day we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.  But as things are, now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” (1 Cor 13:12-13)

On Monday morning, I came for Morning Prayer at 8 a.m., and, truth be told, I was a little depressed.  Last week, when on vacation, I got the news that a dear friend had suffered a massive heart attack and died while walking his dog in Beijing.  He was the pastor with whom I served as assisting minister and music director at our small congregation when we last lived in Beijing.  One of the best storytellers I have ever known, and truly skilled at children’s sermons (he channeled Fred Rogers well), he was a decade younger than I.  The grief and sorrow of his sudden and unexpected death were just beginning to settle in my heart. 

Morning Prayer was particularly lovely:  all the chanted prayers, psalms, and canticles were well known and easily sung by our small group.  Everyone opened up during the intercessions and prayed their hearts.  Since it was the Feast of the Confession of St. Peter, we had a short Eucharist to conclude the Service.  One of us, a regular at Trinity’s choir, sang counterpoint on a metrical canticle and the Sanctus and Memorial Acclamation.  I have been to and sung in many lovely cathedral Choral Matins services over the years, and I must say that this Morning Prayer was the loveliest and most heartfelt I have ever participated in. 


The Hebrew Scriptures lesson was the story of the covenant of God with all creation after the Great Flood (Gen. 9:1-17), the scriptural basis of the “Great Chain of Being” spirituality so beloved in the Middle Ages and more and more part of modern progressive Christianity’s spirituality.   As we were leaving the Church, there in the sunny sky just outside the Church was one of the brightest and most completely arced rainbows I have ever seen: the very sign of the covenant described in the text.  It was a remarkable experience. 

During the day, beset with dark and windy rain, I received a personable and hopeful letter updating me on one former parishioner’s life in another town, a dear soul whose companion is facing terrible health challenges.  The letter warmed my heart. 

In the evening, a bit of sun returned, and with it, another rainbow.  But this one was not a completely visible arc:  too many dark clouds still hung in the middle of the sky over Grizzly Peak.  But there on the left was a brilliant spot of sunlight, and in it, the left hand base of a broad rainbow.  And there, on the other horizon 90 degrees to the right, next to Pompadour and toward Pilot Rock, was the base of the other side of the rainbow.


 
What struck me was this:  the rainbow was there, though I could only see its two feet and the dark clouds between.  The beautiful arc in the morning told me what a full rainbow looked like, and so, despite the dark clouds, I could in my imagination perceive the missing middle arc in the evening.

Our hope and faith are like that.  We get little glimpses (and occasionally, great big vistas) of glory now and again.  Sometimes they are seen or felt in “thin places” where the veil between our world and the hidden spirit one is almost translucent.  Sometimes we see them in liturgy when it works like at our Morning Prayer Service Monday.  Sometimes we see it in our relationships and the love and service we give each other. 

And such glimpses help us see the beauty and love behind all things, even when things are dark and gloomy.  They help us know that water and drink are there, even though we might be in a particularly dry or thirsty spot. 

This, I think, is what St. Paul was trying to express when he said we now see through a mirror, darkly.   He says that faith, hope, and love are the things that get us through the darkness.  And especially the love. 

Grace and peace, 
Fr. Tony+ 

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