River Sojourns-Life Journeys – Bill Harkins
One of the enduring joys of my youth has been a fondness for rivers, lakes, and streams. Growing up, I especially enjoyed whitewater canoeing and kayaking, and the wild places to which these activities took me. In our beautiful Southern Appalachians, with an abundance of water resources, I felt at home on the Amicalola and the Chestatee, the Chattahoochee, and the Nantahala. In more recent years, I discovered sea kayaking, and I’ve been fortunate to paddle in places as diverse and magical as coastal Maine, Southeast Alaska, and the Boundary Waters of Minnesota. It is a delight to view the world from the perspective of the water.
One notices the intricacy and beauty of creation in new and remarkable ways. One is for a time both in—and of—the context of the water. The Japanese poet Basho knew this experience well:
The old pond, ah!
A frog jumps in:
The water’s sound!
Like the ripples of my paddle as I navigate the current of the Cartecay, the frog’s presence both disrupts the smooth texture of the world and belongs to it. Yet, in some ways we are different, Basho’s frog and I. We humans cannot fully immerse ourselves in the river world around us. We cannot escape our estrangement in the world, as the theologians Kierkegaard, Tillich, and others have expressed so well. We are wholly in the world, but reflectively so. We are carried along by the current, even as we co-participate in our passage and watch our ripples spread for better or worse. We are at one and the same time travelers, and part of the terrain. We are sojourners in our own home. And as such, we need companions on our journeys. We ask questions about who, and whose we are, where our lives are going, and the meaning of our sojourn here. This is one reason we have created churches: as contexts which bind us together (“religio”) in our quest for meaning. These questions are best asked in community, and we do this so well together at Holy Family!
One of my favorite poets is Gerard Manly Hopkins, an Anglican whose writings were often prompted and inspired by nature. In one of my favorite of his poems he wrote, “The world is charged with the grandeur of God, it goes out like shining from shook foil….” God’s grandeur is particularly evident this time of year. The slant of light and the gentle beginning of cool, crisp days, along with the turning leaves, all conspire to create my favorite season. Many of us seek out more time in nature during autumn. This is in keeping with our sacramental view of God’s creation, sojourners as we are, and of the natural world as outward and visible signs of this expression of God’s love.
During these weeks of shortening days, intense light, and cooler nights, we turn inward. The Celts knew this, and held autumnal equinox bonfires to mark the changing seasons. Liturgically, we do this as well, moving as we do from Pentecost to Advent. And God speaks to us, through the grandeur of nature and in other ways. Listen to what this season, and God in it, might be saying to you. We discover this best through active prayer. Perhaps there are points at which our joy in God’s grandeur brings God joy as well! This week we observed the Feast Day of Hildegard of Bingen, whose work is among those being read and discussed by our own Wisdom of the Women Mystics class:
“The Word is living, being, spirit, all verdant greening, all
creativity. This Word manifests itself in every creature…Like
billowing clouds,
Like the incessant gurgle of the brook,
The longing of the spirit can never be stilled.” ~ Hildegard of Bingen
As some of you know, in addition to teaching for many years, I have continued to see patients at the Cathedral Counseling Center. Those of us who work there do so out of our conviction that it is ultimately relationships that heal what is broken. And relationships provide the best context for asking the deepest spiritual questions about our lives. Theologian Ed Farley, one of my graduate school professors, once described courage as “venturing forth into creation with vitality and wonder.” This is true of both river sojourns, and the many journeys we take over the course of our lives. We often need companions on our journeys. One of my favorite authors, the psychiatrist Donald Winnicott, began his autobiography with these lines: “O God, this is my prayer. My prayer is that I will be fully alive when I die.” Indeed, God fully glorified is a human being fully alive in this sense. Holy Family is a place where we can cultivate relationships, and explore our own opportunities for service in this particular, singularly unique corner of God’s creation. These are opportunities to be more fully alive, in community.
Our wonderful Stewardship theme this year beautifully ties together the past, present, and future: “Rooted in Faith; Growing in Grace; Preparing for Tomorrow.” It’s a lovely invitation to all members of this Beloved Community to reflect on our role in the ongoing story of Holy Family, and how each of us can contribute to its future. In this beautiful season here at our beloved Holy Family, please give some thought to how you might contribute in any way the Holy Spirit may be calling you. Over the next few weeks we will share stories about the various ministries at Holy Family, just as we heard in a heartfelt message from Leamarie this past week. At heart, these are invitations to find deeper ways to get involved, in community, in this sacred place, and to find meaning in the process. And should you need a paddling companion for a time on your journey, please let us know, and grab a paddle—the water’s fine! I hope to see you in church, and I’ll catch you later on down the river!
Bill +
