Tag Archives: grace

January 5, 2013 · 2:28 pm

Unavoidable

A Facebook friend posed the following questions:

Wondering how many people who are seeing the Les Mis movie never saw the show on stage? (How many people over the age of 30 never saw the show on stage?)

I have seen neither. Some in my family and many of my friends have seen both. As a family we saw a couple of movies over Christmas but not this one.

That may change.

Some time back, I viewed the movie version with Liam Neeson and Geoffrey Rush. Since returning to New York, the buzz for the current film has led me to check out other versions starting with the 1935 movie starring Frederic March and Charles Laughton. Can a trip to the theater be far behind?

Victor Hugo’s story remains compelling. It is also contemporary – the themes of the tale remain with us to this day. And it is theological covering grace and forgiveness and redemption and understandings of justice.

Today’s viewing of a 1978 made-for-TV movie with Robert Jordan and Anthony Perkins reminded me of that. It also contained a piece of dialogue I had not heard before and that will stay with me for a while.

The movie concludes with a scene at the wedding of Cosette and Marius. Gillenormand, Marius’ estranged grandfather appears at the end of the service and greets the radiant couple in a tender moment .

The couple leaves the church and Gillenormand and Valjean speak:

Gillenormand: “I’ve been a fool.”
Valjean: “Oh sir. We’re all fools for most of our lives. It’s unavoidable.”

I do not judge anyone else. But Valjean’s words work for me. They truly work for me.

Now I find myself thinking that, not only is it unavoidable that I am a fool much of the time, perhaps a trip to see the film and the stage production and maybe even time to read the book (the full version not the comic book version I remember as a child nor the abridged version from college) have also become unavoidable.

Perhaps I will see you at the barricades.

Certainly I will … see you along the Trail.

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September 13, 2012 · 7:49 pm

Sometimes we sit in witness

The country matters. Context always matters. Each situation plays out in unique ways due to the specific circumstances in which the people find themselves and place helps shape those circumstances.

The country matters not.  What my sisters and brother told me could happen – happen exactly as they described it or happen as variations on a theme – in too many countries of the world.

We sat in our conference room and they told me of human rights abuses in their country of birth. Each of them had fled for various reasons. And while they each fled to different countries first, they all ended up in New York.

At first they told horrible, but generic stories. Stories of torture, disappearance, deprivation, separation, violation. Such stories prove hard for me to read; they prove harder still to hear – to hear from sisters and a brother who know the people, the children of God, who are ill-used and abused. But out of respect for God’s children, I refuse to turn away from such stories. I read and sit in witness. Out of respect for God’s children, I refused to turn away this afternoon. I sat in witness.

Then they told the stories of their family …

… of cousins tortured …

… of brothers killed …

… of a sister repeatedly raped and finally shot …

… one bullet to the brain.

“I have two sons,” F. said as tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I do not know where my sons are. Do you know what it is like for a mother not to know where her sons are? Not to know if they are safe? Not to know what might be happe … ?” She could not finish, did not need to finish. I do not know. I can never know. I can only imagine what it might be like for a father. I can never know her pain, her grief, her anguish. I can only sit in witness, honored that she would share it with me.

Tears flowed from eight eyes.

The stories continued until they had spent their need to talk. Pain and heartache filled the silence surrounding us.

Finally, B. spoke, “But we have hope.”

And my heart cracked again. Unconquerable love breaks our hearts as surely as does unspeakable evil.

“We have hope. And we will continue to work to change things in our country.”

More tears flowed into the silence that followed but, at least for me, hope and courage and grace now danced amid the moisture on my cheeks. I wiped away the snot that clogged my nose. And somehow I had the good sense to say nothing, but simply to sit in witness.

M. broke the silence by asking me to look for ways to support them and to pray for them, for those they love, and for their country.

I did. I will. They stood to leave. We shook hands. We hugged. They left. And I remember. I pray. I write in witness. And I wonder what more I will do. To be continued …

See you along the Trail.

As I was writing this entry, a friend posted a link on Facebook to a story that spoke to me in similar ways: ‘Comfort Woman’ Activist Still Going Strong at 89. Ms. Kim Bok-dong was forced to serve as a “comfort woman” during World War II. For years, she and other survivors lived silently with their scars. But in 1991, things changed when a Japanese government official blamed the system of “comfort women” on civilians, denying any government culpability, the women broke their silence and told their stories seeking an acknowledgement of the truth in an effort to “help other victims who go through the same atrocities.” In March 2012, Ms. Kim Bok-dong founded the Butterfly Fund to aid victims of sexual violence in Congo, Afghanistan and Uganda.

Unspeakable evil and unconquerable love break my heart once again. Thank you, Yena, for sharing this story at this time and for our brief virtual chat.

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August 15, 2012 · 11:00 pm

What we need to know

Truth breaks in,
when friends say
what we already know,
what we do not want to know,
what we need to know.
In such moments,
may there be grace to hear,
wisdom to understand,
courage to change, and
strength to grow.

15 October 2011
Shire on the Hudson

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August 10, 2012 · 10:56 pm

Olympic moments

At times during the Olympic coverage, I found myself yearning for Mary Poppins. When NBC aired stories of past Olympics, no matter how touching, I wondered if Voldemort had somehow cancelled the events of the day. But still, there were moments.

Andy Murray won a big tennis match. Usain Bolt provided a new understanding of a double double.

World records fell. Amazing performances took place again and again. But, as always, the moments that moved me, touched me, tugged at my heart and brought a tear to my eye had as much to do with the human spirit and grace and dignity and courage than they did with winning and losing. And I realized again why every two years either winter or summer I watch as much as I can, whatever I may think of the coverage. What I will take from London (and more may come as the games wind down) are:

  • Kirani James exchanging his name card with Oscar Pistorius at the end of the race
  • Guor Marial proclaiming that his presence is the flag of South Sudan
  • Amina El Sergany officiating beach volleyball
  • Matthew Mitcham and others gays and lesbians who participated
  • Im Dong Hyun setting the first world record
  • Pandelela Rinong Malaysia’s first female medal winner
  • Liu Xiang hobbling to the finish line and kissing a hurdle where the other racers greeted him as a winner
  • Paula Findley refusing to quit the triathalon
  • Manteo Mitchell continuing to run despite a broken leg
  • Carmelita Jeter‘s exuberance as she brought the relay team home in record time

Each moment a memory to hold, an affirmation of why the world gathers, and a reminder of what could be.

See you along the Trail.

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July 22, 2012 · 11:24 pm

In memory, E.L.W.

I remember courage.
I remember faith.
I remember wisdom.
I remember grace.

I remember sorrow.
I remember tears.
I remember grieving.
I remember fears.

I remember laughter.
I remember song.
I remember welcome.
I remember joy.

I remember hard work.
I remember toil.
I remember changes.
I remember pain.

I remember caring.
I remember hope.
I remember sharing.
I remember love.

I remember you, my friend.
Thank God,
I remember you.

22 July 2012
DL 1776
MCO – LGA

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June 21, 2012 · 8:34 pm

Purple flowers, Villa Blanca, Colombia

1 April 2010
Villa Blanca, Colombia

I try to post purple flower pictures once a week,
an act of discipline,
creating a theme,
building an audience
(know that I deeply appreciate both of you).

However, today I did a blog post on Colombia for work.
And as I looked for a picture,
I came across this one
and it too me back
to a very special day.

At Villa Blanca, where displaced Colombians,
who in an act of courage and grace
beyond my imagining rebuild and start anew,
on a sunny April day, gathered
Presbyterians from Colombia and Presbyterians from the United States.

With agricultural implements
and symbols of faith,
a worship space was created;
prayers were said, songs were song,
love was shared.

I was there.
I remember the people.
I remember the time.
But until I saw this picture,
I had forgotten the purple flowers.

See you along the Trail.

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April 6, 2012 · 10:23 pm

Still I wonder …

The story of Rwanda – as is the story of any genocide – is absolutely wrenching.

Each of the films I am viewing this evening has a scene that particularly tears at my heart and soul: European soldiers arrive to rescue, to evacuate Europeans and North Americans but not Rwandans. They leave knowing the horror taking place around them – aware of what will likely befall those they leave behind.

I watch. Tears fill my eyes.

And I wonder … would I have got on the truck?

And I wonder … who are my brothers and sisters that I abandon today?

The tears slide into my beard.

I can only fall back on grace.

Yet still I wonder …

See you along the Trail.

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March 21, 2012 · 3:34 pm

All our sons, all our daughters

Trayvon Martin

Our position of privilege tells me that what happened to Trayvon Martin is less likely to happen to my sons than it is to the sons or daughters of many of my friends. Less likely than it is to happen to the sons or daughters of people I do not know. Less likely than it is to happen to children of color.

I grieve for Trayvon and for his family and for every family that has had to endure such a heartbreaking experience. I grieve for all who have been victimized by violence. I grieve for our society in which such acts occur.

I grieve that there have been calls for a bounty on George Zimmerman. Vigilante justice is wrong. It is not the answer.

I grieve that for all our efforts to dismantle racism and overcome racial prejudice – for the significant progress we have made on the journey toward the Beloved Community – so far remains to go.

I tremble as I ponder the trust and friendship that I receive from people of color. Trust and friendship that provide continuing definitions of grace.

I confess that I have spoken too late and too timidly on behalf of Trayvon and his family.

I acknowledge that I have failed to work as faithfully or diligently as I should have done to address the racism upon which our society is structured.

I grieve. I tremble. I confess. I acknowledge. I will do more.

I will sign a petition started by Trayvon’s family. I hope that the investigations that have been announced will be fair, full, and transparent. Only in that way can justice be done for everyone involved.

I will be on Union Square for the Million Hoodie March this evening.

I will look for additional opportunities to speak and act.

I will place a hoodie at the front of the workshop I will lead at a Presbyterian gathering on peace and social justice on Friday.

I will pray for Trayvon Martin’s family and friends; for George Zimmerman and his family and friends; for those who investigate this event; for the people of Sanford, Florida; for our country; for peace, for justice.

For in the end, our lives intertwine in this country and on this small rock hurtling around the sun.

In the end we are made, not for ourselves alone but for each other.

In the end, is not Trayvon my son? Is not George my son?

We are brothers and sisters. We are all each other’s sons – all each other’s daughters

See you along the Trail.

This post has been revised in response to comments and observations made on Facebook and in other places. Some language has been edited; other material has been added. I am grateful to all those who took the time to read and comment.

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December 20, 2011 · 1:24 pm

L is for Labyrinth

For some it serves as a spiritual discipline;

for some it provides nurture;

for some a place of reflection and inspiration.

Some find healing here,

some hope,

some grace.

During the summer of 2011,

the Ghost Ranch Service Corps

filled in holes,

trimmed weeds,

and repaired the path

for the Ghost Ranch

labyrinth.

17 July 2011

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December 11, 2011 · 8:54 am

And every day

With Wild Mountain Thyme in the background, I wrote for a friend:

Peace to you this day,
grace to you this day,
faith to you this day,
courage to you this day,
hope to you this day,
love to you this day,
peace to you this day
and every day.

11 December 2011
Shire on the Hudson

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