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Devotion 22
Wednesday 3.23.22

In a conversation after church last Sunday, a congregant commented, “I don’t like having to be dependent on other people.” Can you sympathize with that? I can!

I had two surgeries on my heel in recent years, and I can tell you I HATED having limited mobility and having to rely on others for help. I mean I could not drive a car for months. Nor could I manage taking the bus or riding a bike. I could not walk our dogs. I couldn’t do my laundry because that involved going into the garage which meant going down one step. You get the idea.

So this comment, “I don’t like having to be dependent on other people,” really hit home with me. I like to think that I am competent, and capable, and responsible. I like to think that I can manage things on my own. And not only that. I like to think that I can do things to help others. Have you felt this way?

But of course, it is all a big delusion. Because we are, all of us, every single one of us, dependent on each other. Our food, our clothes, our homes, our cars, our books, our electronic devices, our toys, our medications, and so much more, all come to us thanks to others. I cannot provide all of those things for myself.

And then there is the social and emotional support that we need from each other. We can’t thrive as human beings without interaction with others. We are designed that way. During this covid time, with the lock down and isolation, people, especially elders and children and those who are vulnerable in other ways, suffered greatly. People withered and languished like plants with no water. There is still so much care that is needed to help us recover and regroup and heal from the trauma of loneliness and loss.

The idea that we are self-reliant, pull yourself up by your boot straps, make it on our own; it’s all a lie. Delusion. And when we let the reality of this truth emerge and become clear, we see all that we have to be grateful for. All that we are being given. How bound up we are with so many other people in a beautiful tapestry of interwoven dependency and well-being. We are dependent on thousands upon thousands of strangers the world over that we will probably never meet. Yet they are supporting us. How crazy is that?

And we can know about this. Animals, plants, bacteria, fungi, nature is also part of the web of mutual dependency, but nature will never be conscious of that. Our dogs will never know that they are provided for. Nor will they know what they provide. But humanity is the one species that is capable of having a consciousness of our interdependence.

No, we don’t like having to be dependent on other people. Being dependent can diminish our sense of dignity and independence. But how much more beautiful to know that we are tied together in an intricate multihued tapestry of interdependent life! Far more than we could ask for or imagine. Not left to our own devices. Thank goodness there is a crazy wildness in mercy!

Prayer
Think of a time when you had to depend on someone else. When you were in need of help from another person. Thank of a time when you were able to give needed help to someone. Think of someone you will never meet yet who helps you to have what you need. We have a special bond as human beings – our need for one another and our awareness of that need. Let us give thanks that we are dependent upon one another and that that need makes us one human family in community with all of Creation. Amen.

Devotion Twenty-One
Tuesday March 22, 2022

Lent is a time to consider the wilderness. As mentioned in the sermon for the first Sunday of Lent when the scripture lesson was about Jesus spending 40 days in the wilderness, we noted that the wilderness is not blank and featureless. There are land forms and light and clouds. There are stars and planets to observe. There are some plants and many wild animals and insects and lizards. What is important about the wilderness is what is not there. There is not a lot of human messaging. Not a lot of human voices to be heard or evidence of human life in the wilderness. For us that can mean time away from screens and ear buds and speakers and print and social media and email and phones, etc. Something that rarely happens except when we are asleep.

I remember when the covid lockdown was in full swing. I used to take long bike rides around our neighborhood. First of all, I noticed that there was little to no traffic. We live near a busy road, 22nd Avenue North, and there were few if any cars on the road. Then there was the noise. Of birds and squirrels. So much chirping. It was loud. I wondered if it was always like that and I just didn’t notice because of the background sounds of the traffic or were the birds really making more noise? I now know that the birds were making more noise. Were there more birds? Now, I wonder about the bird population and the all the chirping. Are there fewer birds? Or are they just quieter? That all leads to wondering more about the impact of human activity on the animal community – not just on some distant savannah, but in my neighborhood.

And that is the whole point of the wilderness experience; of tuning out the human noise. You are exposed to a bigger reality. And new perspectives and thoughts. You notice different things. You ask questions. You wonder. You listen. And are aware. Of a larger world. What are we hearing from the birds? From trees? From fish and turtles? From plants and water? From lizards and bugs? From sky and sea? From God?

Yes, in the wildness of mercy, we may get just the message we need to hear from a social media post. But there is no need to restrict our listening to the human realm. May we make this Lenten season about the wilderness.

Prayer
Take some time to tune in to silence or to nature. Mute the human messaging. Notice what that is like. Pay attention to what surfaces and emerges. See how your reality expands. Creating more space for love and mercy to flood in. And to flow out. Consider making this kind of experience part of your regular spiritual practice. Amen.

Devotion Twenty
Monday 3.21.22

Each day we are hearing the devastating news of war in Ukraine. Since the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the toll of war is coming home to us through our screens and speakers thanks to the brave journalists who are working there. People killed. Communities destroyed. Hospitals and homes bombed. People fleeing to safety by the millions creating a refugee crisis. And over the carnage, Putin dangles the threat of nuclear attack. The news reports are heartbreaking, disturbing, shocking, and perhaps infuriating. How can this be happening? How can it be ‘allowed’ to happen? How can one man create such upheaval in the world? Most of us are trying to figure out how to do something good as one person.

In the midst of this, I heard an interview with a NASA official who was asked about how things are going on the International Space Station where there are astronauts from Russia and the US. Apparently, all is well on the space station. The astronauts are functioning as professionals. They know that they are dependent upon one another for their safety and survival.

The intent of the space program is to further human knowledge — about space, the universe, the cosmos. It is to learn about the stars and galaxies and planets. It is to learn about the conditions and forces. And to see how that knowledge can help to advance life on Earth.

Maybe what we need from the International Space Station is not calculations about distance, or temperature readings, or how to grow things in zero gravity, or images of far-flung planets. Maybe what the space station can give to humans on Earth is wisdom about how to live together in peace and how to cherish life here on this precious planet. Maybe given the wildness of mercy this will be another unintended consequence of the space program!

Prayer
Look at the sky. The sun. If it is night, look for the clouds, the stars, and the moon. The vastness of it all. With a consciousness of this greater reality, surely humans can learn to live together in peace. May the wildness of mercy stir us to make peace with each other and with our gorgeous blue-green marble planet. Amen.