Saturday, November 1, 2008
Little Saints and All Saints
Last night Torsey Fellowship Hall was filled with extraordinary characters of all shapes, sizes, and colors (even glitter). The community Halloween party was a rousing success. Children fished for goodies, hit holes in one, made gourd creatures and flitted around the goodie table before running off to make the circuit of trick or treat staions on all three levels. Treats definately outpaced tricks but parents were tugged two steps behind. Watch for photos to be uploaded on the website soon! (www.readfieldumc.org). Today attention turns to older characters with All Saints day. We remember those who have taught us, prodded us, comforted us into stronger relationships with Christ. Here's poem prompted by memories of one of my favorite saints, Gerald May. It was originally shared in the Shalem News, Winter/Spring 2008. FOr modern icons of some of these saints, visit. www.trinitystores.com (or the upper room at Torsey Church). MORE THAN IMAGES by Tony Sayer ...a desert like spaciousness...(Gerald May) A spacious room. A high ceiling. A world. Candles flickering. Souls kindled. Around the walls paintings, posters, icons. Images. But more that images. Presences. Merton and Bonhoeffer are drinking beer. Their bottles clink together as they confer. Saint Francis and the Sultan play chess. The Sultan alwayus wins-Francis seems not to get the game. Fiervcely he protects his pawns, but gives his bishops up with glee. Mother Seton, Sojourner Truth, and HIldegard of Bingen are making a quilt. Hildegard wants to add more and more green to the pattern. Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks and Ignatious of Loyola tred the turns of a labrinth together. Inigo's limp slows him down, and the others keep to his pace. Elijah and Julian share a barley cake. The raven on his shoulder and the cat on her lap eye each other with suspicion. Gandhi and John of the Cross and Martin Luther King are swapping jailhouse memories. They want Bonhoeffer to join them, but Merton keeps opening another cool one. Rumi and Meister Eckhart have been writing song lyrics. Teresa of Avila rounds up John Woolman and Black Elk and Frederick Ozaman and Simone Weil to start a garage band. Dorothy Day and Clare of Assisi want to sign up. They want Howard Thurman to be come too. But he's learning Tibetan chant, his deep throated voice growing ever more resonant. Etty Hillesom looks upward, murmuring contentedly, "So many stars." William Blake is teaching an art class, but his students aren't paying attention. Chuang Tzu and Albert Einstein have gotten paint all over themselves. "Angels," says Blake impatiently. "Ranks of angels surround us." He waves his hand in the air. He points at us. For we too are here. Among these witnesses, servants, pilgrims, martyrs, in this patchwork communion of saints-we are here. holy one, by what fiery grace have we come to join this company?