Tag: doubt and hope

Fourth Sunday of Advent 2025 – Candle of Love

by Steve Harsh, posted in Advent, Christian Discipleship, Christmas, Faith and Values, spiritual discipline

In the beginning, God fell in love with creation, and pronounced it very good.  Like romantic adoration, God’s eternal love is blind to human betrayal, rebellion, and stupidity.  When God’s children ignore the prophets and break every covenant offered to us, God continues to love us like a star-struck lover.

We celebrate Advent and Christmas every year to remind us that God still so loves the whole world that He comes to share the risks and sacrifices of being a vulnerable human being. 

In the dark days of December, when wars and senseless violence dominate the news, God’s love simply grows brighter and stronger.  The Advent candles remind us that we are all created in the image of God, and the essence of our God is unbounded, unconditional love. 

So on this final Sunday of Advent, the circle of the wreath is completed.  We relight the candles of Hope, Peace, and Joy.  And today we light the Candle of Love, because the greatest of these is Love. 

[Light all four candles]

Please join me in the prayer on the screen:

O dear God, lover of our souls, we are undeserving and unworthy of your radical love.  Our souls our willing, but our flesh is weak.  Please sweep us off our feet again in your loving embrace.  Help us to share in your wild and crazy romance with this broken world.  Let these candles rekindle in us the dream of your beloved community, so we can throw open the gates of love to all of your weary, hopeless children.  Remind us once more that the Babe of Bethlehem still calls us to love one another, in the same reckless, unconditional way that you love us.  Amen

Northwest UMC, Columbus, Ohio

Advent 1, 2025 Matthew 24:36-44, BE PREPARED!

by Steve Harsh, posted in Advent, Christmas, hope, Lectionary Texts

This message for this first Sunday in Advent in Matthew’s Gospel is also the motto of the Boy Scouts – “Be prepared.” As an Eagle Scout one could assume that it would fit my life style. I wish it did, but in crisis or stressful situations I’m not at my best. When I was about 14 or 15 my Explorer Post took a canoe trip on an old abandoned canal called the Whitewater Canal in southern Indiana. The name was misleading since there was no white water there, but there was one tricky spot in the concrete remains of an old lock.

Because the current got faster as it narrowed into the lock there was a sign telling canoeists to portage around the lock. Portage means to pull over to the bank, get out, and carry your canoe around to the other side of the lock where it’s ok to put back into the water. The problem was that the portage sign was so close to the lock that there was little time, especially for inexperienced paddlers, to exit the water before being sucked into the lock. The portage sign was on a cable stretched across the water and the first reaction to seeing that sign when it was too late to portage was to grab the cable and try to stop. The problem was the person grabbing the cable stopped, but his canoe didn’t.

Some of us who made the canoe trip in the first of two groups had found out the hard way how this worked and had a good laugh as we scrambled to retrieve our runaway canoes. So, rather than being good Scouts and warning our friends in the second group about this hazard we secretly hiked down to the lock while group 2 was getting ready to set off so we could see how many of them ended up in the drink like we had. Some did, of course, and we had a good laugh until we realized that our Scoutmaster in one of the tipped canoes had gone under and not come back up. He was trapped under the current.

It was truly a life and death moment, and I was frozen in fear. I remember yelling for someone to do something, but it felt like my feet were nailed to the ground. Thank God two of my fellow Scouts did act courageously. They jumped the 8 feet from the top of the lock to the water and pulled our sputtering Scoutmaster to safety. They were both honored for their bravery, but I was not prepared to act.

In less dramatic ways I was not prepared to leave home for college and spent an entire quarter terribly homesick. I was not ready for marriage at age 21 or for parenthood 3 years later – but then who is ever really ready for that responsibility. And now in my “golden years” I am certainly not ready for the challenges of aging!

So if it’s that hard to be prepared for “normal” life events that we know are coming, what in the world can we do to be prepared for the coming of the Lord? Matthew says, “Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” (24:44). That verse is about the second coming, but Advent is our warning that we need to be prepared not just for the celebration of Christ’s birth but for the big surprise of his dropping in again any time he feels like it.

Sorry, Lord, I don’t like surprises. I don’t even like unexpected changes to my daily routine. And my weird sense of humor suddenly turns to the lyrics from an old song by Eileen Barton:

“If I knew you were comin’ I’d’ve baked a cake, baked a cake, baked a cake

If I knew you were comin’ I’d’ve baked a cake

Howdya do, howdya do, howdya do?

Had you dropped me a letter, I’d a-hired a band, grandest band in the land

Had you dropped me a letter, I’d a-hired a band

And spread the welcome mat for you

Oh, I don’t know where you came from

’cause I don’t know where you’ve been

But it really doesn’t matter

Grab a chair and fill your platter

And dig, dig, dig right in.”

It’s like dating or meeting someone important for the first time. We can put our best foot forward and be on our best behavior when we are prepared. Even I can clean up pretty well when I am forewarned. I can even tidy up the house when I know when my wife is returning from a trip, but “at any hour you do not expect!” That’s not fair.

But timing is not really the issue. God has known when we’ve been naughty or nice long before Santa or security cameras started tracking us. And it’s not rocket science. Being prepared for Christ is like an open book test. The Book has been telling us for 2500 years what God expects to find when he/she drops in unexpectedly. “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

That’s pretty straightforward, and yes, much easier said than done. But please notice that last line – humility is the way to grace and mercy. God knows all too well we all flunk at doing justice and loving kindness way more than we like. But as 1 John tells us, “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” (1:9-10). That first part is humility, the second not so much.

And there’s another wonderful summary of being prepared for Christmas or any Christ coming. The whole Bible is a lot of stuff to digest. There’s not just 10 Commandments but hundreds in the Hebrew Scriptures/Old Testament. So Jesus boiled it all down for us. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest? He said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:36-40)

Simple – love God and all your neighbors and yourself! Do that and you will be prepared. I hear you, but, Steve, how can we do that? We’re just fallible human beings after all! So, here’s the secret I’m counting on, and maybe you should too. “But Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26)

Be Still and Don’t Stop Believin’

by Steve Harsh, posted in brokenness, Faith and Politics, hope

A couple of Sundays ago when our Ohio October was still summerlike I spent some time in the Chapel in the Woods at our church after Sunday worship. Because of scheduling issues I attended our contemporary service that Sabbath which is not my preference. That Sunday was actually World Communion Sunday, a day that always has special meaning for me, especially in our fractured world today.

On that Sunday our church celebrated World Communion primarily at our traditional service because the contemporary service had been set aside for our annual Blessing of the Animals service. Communion was still celebrated at the contemporary service, along with treats for God’s four-footed critters that came to be blessed.

Needless to say it was a lively and noisy service, which is always fun, but it was not exactly what I needed that day. So, after worship I spent some time praying in our beautiful outdoor chapel and the words that came to me were “Be still and know that I am God.” I have meditated on those words frequently in the days since, seeking the balm they offer in the chaotic world we inhabit just now.

I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t remember where those words come from in Scripture until I googled them. They are of course in verse 10 of a Psalm I have used dozens of times in funeral services, and the opening verses set the scene powerfully for having faith to be still when life is literally crumbling around us like the East Wing of the White House.

The psalm begins with these words:

“1 God is our refuge and strength,
    a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
    though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam,
    though the mountains tremble with its tumult.”

Those are the opening verses of Psalm 46 which some scholars believe was written as the armies of Assyria were besieging the city of Jerusalem in 701 BCE. Many of us can easily relate. It feels like all the values we thought our country was founded on are under siege.

I could recite a whole litany of things we’ve lost in the last 10 months, but I will focus instead on one of the most recent and egregious violations of Christian morality and Constitutional order. Because of the government shutdown SNAP benefits that help feed 42 million Americans have been cut off for the last 6 days.

There are contingency funds available to pay those food stamp benefits, and that has always been done in every other shutdown we’ve had. The only difference this time is the one who resides in what’s left of the White House.

Two federal judges have ordered the President to release those funds and provide food for hungry Americans, including the elderly and children. But Donald Trump has decided to ignore those court orders so he can use those 42 million people as political bargaining chips in the high stakes game of chicken he is playing with the democrats.

Meanwhile the President has given $40 million of our tax dollars to Argentina which hurts already desperate American farmers. He’s spent millions on unauthorized military action against Iran and Venezuela, and is threatening to do the same in Nigeria. But he refuses to even negotiate with democrats about skyrocketing health care premiums or to follow court orders and feed hungry people.

It seems useless to remind Washington about what Jesus said about feeding the least of these, although I have done so repeatedly with my three Republicans representatives in Congress. The tone deafness of this administration to calls for empathy and justice for our fellow human beings certainly feels like basic human decency is under siege.

How can we not wonder if God really is our help and refuge? Where is God’s help in this all too real time of trouble? As I typed those words, and I’m not making this up, a notification popped up on the top of my iPad screen that said “Don’t Stop Believein’!” That message came because the rock band Journey is coming to Columbus, OH next summer, but the timing of that message seemed way too relevant to be just a coincidence.

And that seems to be what the psalmist is saying to the besieged, hopeless folks in Jerusalem surrounded by the mighty armies of Sennacherib.

5 “God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;
    God will help it when the morning dawns.
6 The nations are in an uproar; the kingdoms totter;
    he utters his voice; the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our refuge.[c] Selah

8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;
    see what desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
    he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.”

And because of God’s ultimate rule of the whole universe, no matter how bad things seem at this or any moment, personal or in history, we can
10 “Be still, and know that I am God!
    I am exalted among the nations;
    I am exalted in the earth.”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our refuge.”

On Ash Wednesday last year we had an experiential worship service, and one of the things we were asked to do was create something from clay that was symbolic of the meaning of the season of Lent. I made this symbol which is still on my desk:

Some people thought it was a fish, which would be ok; but that is not what I was going for. I started out with an infinity symbol and then made one end into a heart. For me it symbolizes the only thing we can really count on and the only thing we need – God’s Infinite Love.

That ‘s what enables me at times to be still and know God’s in charge, even when the infidels are literally not only at the gates but in the seats of power.

Jerusalem was reborn from the ashes and somehow, someday the land of the free and the brave will be also. Be still and don’t stop believin’.

All Saints Prayer 2025

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith Development, Gratitude, hope, prayer, spiritual discipline

As we prepare our hearts for prayer on this All Saints Sunday I want to share some words for our meditation from Linda Hogan in her book “Dwellings.” She says,

“Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.”


O Holy One, God of the present age, of every generation that has enabled our being here today, and of all the multitudes who will follow in our footsteps if we find a way to a sustainable future for the creation we are a part of.

We know All Saints Day may sound pretentious because none of us are truly saintly.
We are all a weird mixture of sinner and saint striving to be more the latter as followers of Jesus and good stewards of your creation. We want to be builders of a peaceable kingdom, a beloved community, honest we do.

But you know that our fears and anxieties too often lead us to foolishly put our trust in stuff that promises security but only creates higher walls of tribal suspicion and prejudice. Bigger bombs and battleships only motivate others to make more weapons that steal resources from hungry children.

As we ponder the mysteries of how our ancestors made sense of their lives help us lovingly forgive their mistakes even as we learn from their collective wisdom.  We are grateful that we don’t have to reinvent every wheel because we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses who bless us with their presence. We are never alone, although at times it sure feels like it.

Among those saints are those whose names we all know – Moses, Ruth, Micah, Theresa, Amos, Francis, Jesus and Paul – but those famous ones are totally outnumbered by the ordinary Joes and Judys who quietly have preserved the faith through disasters, depressions, pandemics, and ages of apathy.


Today we remember those dear ones who have passed through the thin veil that divides our reality from eternal peace and truth. We give thanks for those who dwell now in your very heart, O God. We envy their peace and unity with you, even as we humbly give thanks for their love that has produced this community of faith that nurtures us still today.


We are indebted to their example of service. We are inspired by their faith that overcame the doubts and despair that are part of the human condition. Like them we journey ever on toward the cross of Christ and the example he gives us as we join our voices with all the saints in the prayer Jesus taught us to pray ….

Northwest United Methodist Church, Columbus, Ohio, November 2, 2025

World Communion Prayer 2025

by Steve Harsh, posted in brokenness, Christian Discipleship, Faith Development, hope, peacemaking, prayer

O God of all creation, we set aside one Sunday each year as World Communion Sunday. Given the state of our battered and broken world wouldn’t it make more sense to make every Sabbath or Holy Day a time to pray for a beloved world community?

Our Christian Scriptures say you so loved this messed up world so much that you sent your own beloved son to redeem us. Why would you do that knowing how the evil forces in the world routinely kill any prophet who challenges the empire’s gospel of power and violent control by fear and intimidation?

And yet something about that impractical vision of a peaceable kingdom keeps us coming back to your table. It’s a table where we join a motley crew of humanity – those who hunger for power and the powerless who simply hunger; Israeli and Palestinian, Ukrainian and Russian, an assassin and a widow who forgives him, sworn political enemies dipping bread in the same cup, estranged family members sharing tears of joyful reunion, and those who live for revenge breaking bread with the agents of reconciliation.

We don’t understand the mystery of how ordinary broken bread can fan the tiny ember of hope still smoldering beneath an avalanche of broken dreams. Yet somehow the Holy Ruach of Your spirit blows life into a valley of dry bones and we leave the table lighter and brighter with a spring in our step we thought was gone forever.

The chaos of life has not stopped. The existential threats to freedom and the power of greed and short-sightedness threatening our planet are still as awful as ever. People are still starving in Sudan and Gaza, bombs are still dropping in Kiev, and yet the vision of humanity with all its flaws breaking bread together around one godly table stays with us and empowers us to face the future with courage and love.

Because You so loved the world we dare to also, in the name of the humble servant who calls us again and again to come eat and drink of his very essence. In His name we pray and live. Amen

Pastoral Prayer, July 13, 2025

by Steve Harsh, posted in hope, prayer

Great and gracious God, as we worship today we all come with personal cares and burdens.  And on top of those we have been shaken by images we can’t unsee from the horrendous floods in Texas.   The innocent children killed trouble our hearts the most, but we also pray for all the others who have lost loved ones, homes, businesses, and livelihoods. 

In times like these we can’t help but ask the question people have been struggling with since the days of Job – where are you, Lord, when walls of water sweep little girls away?  Why do you let things like this happen? Why do you let cancer, war, and human cruelty destroy innocent lives?  If you are all-powerful and all-loving, why is there so much pain and suffering in our world?

As much as we wish you were a helicopter parent who would sweep in and protect us from anything terrible happening, we know that is not who you are, God.  You are a heavenly parent who has given us the freedom to make choices.  When we mess things up with selfish or short-sighted decisions, we would often like to give that freedom back to you. 

But like earthly parents you know there is a time when children must be set free to make their own choices.  Hindsight is always 20/20, but no amount of blaming, no law suits can undo the consequences of our mistakes.  We can only learn from them and try to do better in the future. 

So we humbly ask, Merciful God, that you would forgive us where we have misused our freedom to choose.  Help us accept things we cannot change, and in our experiences empower us to be your presence through prayer and acts of service for those who are hurting next door, and in Texas, and around the world.

When we wonder where you are in the midst of tragedy, Lord,  remind us that you are always there in the form of helpers who comfort those who mourn, weeping with those who sob uncontrollably, in the form of first responders and volunteers tirelessly searching for the lost and missing. 

Thank you for being with us in every time of need, for being, as the Psalmist says, “close to the brokenhearted and saving those who are crushed in spirit.”  For all your mercies we offer our thanks, and especially for Jesus, who lived your presence as one of us, teaching us how to live, how to love, and how to pray.  Our Father ….

Northwest United Methodist Church, Columbus, Ohio, July 13, 2025

Where Oh Where is God?

by Steve Harsh, posted in climate change, Faith and Values, hope

As I have been shaken by the Texas flood tragedy this week my mind has wandered back to all the times I was responsible for a group of young people at camp or on mission trips. I keep wondering if I would have had the courage, composure, and strength to help save those children and youth entrusted to me by their parents if I awoke in a horror movie of rushing flood water filling our cabin?

I hear people asking as I do where is God in tragedies like this? Why did God let this happen? Why does God let cancer, war, and gun violence destroy innocent lives? Of course, I really don’t know any definitive answers to those age-old questions scholars categorize as theodicy, i.e. how do we explain how an all-powerful, loving God allows evil and suffering to exist in the world.

My answer for this week is that God is not a helicopter parent who swoops in to protect and prevent anything bad from happening to us, God’s children. There comes a point in every parent’s life where you have to let your children make their own mistakes and suffer the consequences. No amount of advice or warning or sharing our own past failures will stop a grown child from blazing their own path.

God has gifted us mortals with free will. Oh how many times I have wished I could return that gift which has allowed me to screw up so many times by pursuing my own pleasure, desires, and goals instead of a higher path.

I’m sure there were many times God wished people would not house innocent young girls in cabins on a flood plain. I’m sure God would have wanted and may have urged people in positions of authority to better prepare for floods like those on the Guadalupe River last week. I’m sure God shook her head in dismay when arguments prevailed that sirens and warning systems were too expensive.

I heard on the news tonight that some people who regularly camped in RV’s along the Guadalupe ignored warnings of potential flooding last week saying, “It floods here all the time.” Basing present precautions on past experience can be dangerous. We don’t live in pre-climate change times, and those of us who trust science know that we are living in a new normal where extreme weather events are more frequent and much more severe.

There will be finger pointing and blaming and many law suits filed because of this tragedy. None of those things will bring back any of the victims or ease the trauma of the survivors. The only redeeming quality of this disaster is that our free will enables us to learn from our past experiences. We can ask what would have helped make this tragedy less horrific? What needs to be in place to prevent or limit future flooding occurrences and to improve rescue and recovery operations?

Where is God in all this? Not zooming in like a master puppeteer to prevent the consequences of poor free will choices; not picking and choosing who will survive and who will not. No, God is there comforting those who mourn, weeping with those who sob uncontrollably, and giving strength to the brave first responders and volunteers who are doing the horrible/wonderful work of searching for those who are still missing.

God is there offering hope to the hopeless, absorbing the hate and pain of the angry, and sitting peacefully and patiently with those for whom there simply are no words – at least not yet.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

Prayer for a Dying 401-K

by Steve Harsh, posted in Faith and Values, hope, prayer

O God of the universe, my retirement funds are in the dumpster, they’re dropping faster than that first big stomach-churning drop on those big roller coasters. I’m so old I don’t know if those funds will have time to recover even if the market does, and I’m scared.

The other stuff I depend on for my well-being, e.g. Medicare and Social Security is also under attack from rogue billionaires in Washington who have no idea what life is like for us common folks. Without medicare I would not have been able to get the life-saving cancer treatment I just finished, and things are much worse for others who are uninsured or underinsured.

But you know all that already, O Holy One, and you know I’m better off than millions of others who are living in fear of real poverty or arrest and/or deportation to a hell hole in El Salvador just because they are the wrong color or dare to exercise their right to free expression.

My friends are losing their jobs as the economy craters. Public and higher education are under attack. I know you don’t intervene directly in human affairs. You have blessed (or cursed) us with free will; so I just pray for strength, courage, and faith for all of us to support and love one another no matter how deep this economic hole becomes.

No matter what happens to our standard of living our standard of loving can thrive and grow because it is not founded on the whims of human greed, but on the bedrock of your eternal love that nothing in all creation can ever take from us.

Clinging to that assurance our fears for the temporary stuff of this life fade as we affirm our real confidence in what it says on the money we used to have, “In God We Trust.” Amen

Fiddling While Democracy Burns: A Modern Parable

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, climate change, Faith and Politics, Government Reform

Art often speaks more profoundly about the challenges of life than ordinary words can convey.  And just as often most of us don’t have ears to hear what the artists and visionaries are trying to tell us, at least until fiction becomes our reality.  Among other dystopian prophets I am thinking of George Orwell’s “1984,” Suzanne Collins’ “The Hunger Games,” and Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

Or from the Judeo-Christian Scriptures Amos and other prophets pronounce judgment on their own people for their violation of their covenant with Yahweh.  Here’s a sample from Amos:

“Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Judah,
    and for four, I will not revoke the punishment,
because they have rejected the instruction of the Lord
    and have not kept his statutes,
but they have been led astray by the same lies
    after which their ancestors walked.
So I will send a fire on Judah,
    and it shall devour the strongholds of Jerusalem.

Thus says the Lord:  For three transgressions of Israel,
    and for four, I will not revoke the punishment,
because they sell the righteous for silver
    and the needy for a pair of sandals—
they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth
    and push the afflicted out of the way;” (Amos 2:4-7)

Anyone tempted to bow down to the idol of Christian Nationalism would do well to ponder these warnings. 

One of my favorite musicals has always been “Fiddler on the Roof.” Its theme of love conquering oppression never seems out of date and is all too relevant today. In fact when I thought about the symbolism of Fiddler I discovered that I wrote about it, not coincidentally, in 2019 during Trump’s first term.  The parallels today are even more stark.  In “Fiddler” the Jewish village of Anatevka is being forced to flee their beloved home because of Russian persecution.  We are living through such terrifying times right now in our once beautiful democracy.

Here’s what I wrote about Fiddler during Trump 1.0:  “Some of Fiddler’s insights are so good I am tempted to call it the Gospel according to Tevye. I was in a discussion the other day about praying for President Trump, and all of us present agreed we should and he certainly needs it. His erratic and delusional Messianic references to himself since then only confirm that conclusion.

One of the first things that came to my mind about praying for the President is a line from Fiddler where a Rabbi says this prayer: “God bless and keep the czar—far away from us.” On a more serious note I think one of the best parts of Fiddler is the opening where the title and its metaphor for life are explained.

“Away above my head I see the strangest sight
A fiddler on the roof who’s up there day and night
He fiddles when it rains, he fiddles when it snows
I’ve never seen him rest, yet on and on he goes

{Refrain}
What does it mean, this fiddler on the roof?
Who fiddles every night and fiddles every noon
Why should he pick so curious a place
To play his little fiddler’s tune

An unexpected breeze could blow him to the ground
Yet after every storm, I see he’s still around
Whatever each day brings, this odd outlandish man
He plays his simple tune as sweetly as he can

{Refrain}

A fiddler on the roof, a most unlikely sight
It might not mean a thing, but then again it might!”

And then Tevye says, “A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask ‘Why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous?’ Well, we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: tradition!”

Our traditions of love, compassion, hospitality and justice are under attack, but they are the solid rock and anchor we can cling to in each and every storm; and if we do we will still be around after the perils of this present age are no more.”

Today in 2025 when the prospects of anyone stopping the fascist overthrow of our democracy seem pretty slim I need to amend that last sentence.  I no longer am so confident “we will still be around” when this nightmarish storm is finally over.  I continue to hope that enough Republican members of Congress will find the courage to stop the carnage.  They are the only ones standing between us and a total dictatorship. 

Just this weekend Trump has begun ignoring court orders to stop illegal deportations.  He has also revoked pardons for some on his political enemies hit list that were issued by President Biden.  Can the Fiddler keep scratching out a simple tune or has that metaphor shifted to fiddling while our democracy burns?

And most tragic to me is that it is not just democracy burning.  Among his more than I can count acts of treason Trump has destroyed the departments and the international efforts dedicated to fighting climate change.  Mother Nature is no respecter of political ideologies.  Red and blue states are suffering the ravages of extreme weather disasters caused by climate change, and this administration simply doesn’t care.  Trump, Musk and their billionaire class only care about personal wealth and power.  But if we fail to preserve our only home in the universe nothing else is going to matter. 

So here we are, and so far there is a thread of hope symbolized by a bunch of courageous protestors who are individually and collectively fiddlers on the roof, and the question hangs in the air now as it did in Anatevka:

“A Fiddler on the roof, a most unusual sight…. It may not mean a thing, but then again it might.”

*music by Jerry Bock, lyrics by Sheldon Harnick

Eternal Love: A Journey Through Lent

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values, Lenten devotion

I was not in the mood for Lent this year. With everything going on in the world and my own ever-nearing 80th birthday in just 19 months the last thing I wanted to hear was “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” I already felt lost in the wilderness and didn’t think I needed to add any more of lostness to my weary soul.

But even good habits die hard and this annual tradition kept nagging at me; so my wife and I decided to attend our church’s Ash Wednesday service on line, and I’m very glad we did. On-line worship is not usually the best way to worship for me, but I am grateful for that option when I need it. The service at Northwest UMC on Ash Wednesday was an exception to the rule for both Diana and me. It was a very well done service that was contemplative, and being at our kitchen table with only candle light to illumine the room was ideal for that particular kind of worship.

Our church had provided packets for the service that included ashes and a small piece of clay. At one point in the service, after hearing the traditional Scriptures for Ash Wednesday read, we were asked to take the clay and form it into something symbolic that would have meaning for us during the 40 day journey of Lent.

We were give time to pray about that assignment while soft guitar music played. Thanks to the wisdom of several authors I’ve been reading in the chaotic days since January 20 (Richard Rohr, Kate Bowler, Diana Butler Bass, Nadia Bolz-Weber, Brian McLaren, and Sarah Bessey) my mind was led to think about the one constant and trustworthy thing in any time of crisis, namely God’s eternal love.

So I formed my clay into the symbol for infinity which always looks like an 8 lying down to me. Then as I had time to ponder that a little longer it came to me that what I was thinking and feeling was not just a mysterious concept of never-ending infinity or even in Buzz Lightyear’s famous quote “To infinity and Beyond.”

What I was trying to capture in clay was something quite tangible and real – Love. I’ve felt that love more powerfully than ever before through my family and friends who rallied around me during my health crises in the last 8 months. I discovered that my village is a lot bigger and deeper than I realized before. The ministry of presence took on a more beautiful meaning for me in the physical and spiritual companionship that surrounded me and got me through a wilderness journey of my own.

So I decided to shape one end of my clay infinity symbol into a heart (pictured above), and it is still sitting on the kitchen table to remind me several times a day that St. Paul got it right in I Corinthians 13:7-10 when he wrote: ” Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.”

That worship experience was a much needed reminder for me of that eternal love which is the constant, solid ground under our feet even when the foundations of everything we thought we could trust are shaking like an earthquake, to borrow a phrase from the great theologian Paul Tillich. The Ash Wednesday service I didn’t think I wanted helped me to surrender a lot of the anger and frustration I’ve been dealing with about our current political crisis, and I am very grateful.

Today I put that picture of my clay symbol on my watch and phone as wallpaper to be an even more frequent reminder for me the power of eternal love.

A funny thing happened after that Ash Wednesday service. When my wife Diana looked at my art work she said, “I like your fish.” After I explained to her what I intended my symbol to be I realized that the fish is also a great symbol for eternal love. I was also reminded that art is also mysterious and can mean different things to different people at different times.

The fish symbol has been a Christian symbol for 2000 years because the early Christians used it as a secret code to identify themselves as Jesus followers to one another in a way that they hoped would not be recognized by their Roman persecutors. The origin of the symbol came from the Greek word for fish, Ichthus. It was and still is used because the letters of the word ichthus are the first letters of the Greek phrase “Iēsous Christos theou hy ios sōtēr”, which translates to “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior”. 

So whether I see a fish or an infinity symbol when I see this piece of clay doesn’t matter. They both speak to me of God’s eternal love that will sustain me through these 40 days of Lent and through whatever the future holds until I return to dust and beyond. I hope it might do the same for you.