Archive for peace

The Kiss

Auguste Rodin, The Kiss, detail Image: Musée Rodin

Auguste Rodin, The Kiss, c.1882, detail
Image: Musée Rodin

 

I will listen to what the Lord God is saying,
for he is speaking peace to his faithful people
and to those who turn their hearts to him.

Truly, his salvation is very near to those who fear him,
that his glory may dwell in our land.

Mercy and truth have met together;
righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

Truth shall spring up from the earth,
and righteousness shall look down from heaven.

The Lord will indeed grant prosperity,
and our land will yield its increase.

Righteousness shall go before him,
and peace shall be a pathway for his feet.

Psalm 85: 8-13

Peace

 

Peace unto Zion.
Peace, peace to the faithful,
And a crown of rejoicing
And a crown of rejoicing
From your Heavenly Father.

When Zion shall be cleansed
She shall flourish as a rose
I will walk in her midst
And will bless all those with a tenfold blessing
And their sorrows shall cease
For I’ll cry upon her walls

Peace, sweet peace

 

Something about the Shakers speaks to me.  Something American, but otherworldly–sort of like pioneer Benedictines, perhaps. I first heard Kevin Siegfried‘s wonderful arrangements of Shaker songs performed by the Tudor Choir on the album Gentle Words.  It remains one of my all-time favorite CDs and a source of beauty, nourishment and healing for me. I especially love John Lockwood’s hymn “The Burning Day” (“Redeemed Souls, your voices raise…) and the title track “Gentle Words” (“What the dew is to the flower/gentle words are to the soul”).  Siegfried’s arrangements are modern interpretations, not historical recreations, and they are wonderful both in their own right, and in the way they reveal the extraordinary melodies and texts of the original Shaker compositions.

As a small sample of this collection, here is “Peace” sung by the Murray State University Concert Choir.

 

 

 

Free from every bond

 

On Sunday morning a young member of our congregation ended his struggle with illness. On Sunday evening we gathered at the church to say The Litany at the Time of Death (Book of Common Prayer, p.462).

It is an extraordinary thing to speak these words on the day of someone’s passing–when shock and grief are all you know, and daily life has not yet massaged the pain into something manageable.  For me, it was the ritual that allowed me to do the thing that I could not do of my own volition, but needed most to do.  As a congregation, it was a first painful step forward, hand in hand.

 

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;
In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you;
In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;
In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you.
May your rest be this day in peace,
and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God.

Nothing to do but pray

Free will. Agency. Good works.

So much of our identity as Christians, as humans, is tied up with what we do. We move in the world, we make a mark. We daily reenact the story of the Fall as we choose good or evil, obedience or disobedience. We further the Kingdom as we do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly.  And we feel a great sense of frustration and helplessness when our friends and loved ones are burdened, and there is nothing we can do but pray.

And yet…how can we imagine we do nothing when our work becomes one with the work of the Spirit? What do we imagine we are doing when we pray?

 

The greatest gift we have to offer one another is indeed our collective prayer — not merely kind wishes, not simply good intentions, but deep prayer—the ability to hold, tangibly and intentionally, others in that abundant love that flows freely and gracefully within us and among us. This has substance. This has weight and heft. This, and this alone, is the source of deep healing, lasting transformation, and enduring peace.

 

From a pastoral letter by Episcopal Diocese of Colorado Bishop Robert O’Neill that was to be read in congregations across Colorado on Sunday, July 22, 2012 following the shooting at a cinema in Aurora, Colorado.