Dearly Beloved,
It is beautiful. Even as I look out at our empty parking lot, the new fencing our neighbors put up, and the naked tree: it is beautiful. Life is beautiful. Last week, I posed poet Mary Oliver's question: "tell me what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" And wondered at the question posed to Jesus: "What have you to do with us?"
We live in this beautiful, painful paradox of life. Life is beautiful.
And. And. And....
And. We carry our own trauma.
We age. Live with illness and uncertainty. Navigate chronic conditions and mental illness, addiction, neurodivergence, survive abuse, love and have our hearts broken. We grieve those gone before us, too soon, and for no reason.
And. Our government is helping to fund genocide in the land of Jesus' birth. Not just killing soldiers or terrorists, not simply targeting adults -- men and women -- but murdering children. Killing them with bombs and drones and simple preventable starvation. This is happening as we watch. Or as we refuse to look (as is the case for me).
And. We are participating in a way of living that is slowly but surely destroying our planet. The earth groans beneath us if we but pause to listen.
.....Remember you are dust.
What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?
And our question this week:
Who is my mother? Who is my brother? Who is my sibling? (Mark 3:33).
How we live these questions matters.
It matters greatly. Our choosing not to live them, not to engage, not to wrestle with them or attempt to answer them is in itself a response, an answer, a choice.
Who is your sibling?
Might it be the Palestinian whose children, godchildren, grandchildren are being murdered?
Might it be the American Jew whose grandparents survived the holocaust and for whom a Jewish state is important but who is (hopefully) now wrestling with questions of justice and goodness, truth and love?
Might it be the addict?
Or the abused spouse who puts on a good face and defends their abuser?
Might it be the teenager who's acting out and really is struggling to find a sense of belonging or purpose?
Or the trans person who you don't understand but you do understand what it means to not fit in or to have your voice silenced?
Might it be the person of an another generation who is inviting you to think in a different way -- to consider a perspective that is not your own? One that is foreign to your experience and your mode of operating in the world?
Or might your sibling be the harried police officer?
The EMT worker whose last shift will give them nightmares?
The grocery clerk who didn't smile?
The telemarketer who just wouldn't let you hang up?
The advertiser who seems to want your soul AND your money?
Or perhaps it's the stray dog that's been wandering your neighborhood?
The eagle soaring overhead?
The bull snake you happened upon on your hike?
The spider in your bath tub?
The chickadee eating breakfast from your hand?
Could it be that your sibling is the land itself?
The wind on your face?
The waxing moon?
The sun warm on your back?
The winter waters?
Fresh unbroken snow?
The air that is apart from you, then within you, then giving you life, then outside of you again?
Who is your sibling?
What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?
What is it that you will do with your one wild and precious life?
....Remember you are stardust....
God's beloved, let us, together, seek to live the questions a little bit more deeply.
Love, Thandiwe
