It seems to be summer. I mean, it’s pretty much sunny all the time and very warm in the daytime. The last drenching rains were over a week ago (then again, it can rain year-round in Oregon …). I find myself learning to shift now from protecting potted plants on the deck from the downpour to having to water the garden every few days. At least it gives me an excuse to get up from my desk and go outside.
I miss going to the gym of course. I really miss going to the supermarket or the hardware store on a lazy afternoon and just wandering along looking at the shelves of stuff I never buy, just to learn what’s there. Since “re-opening” began a few weeks ago cases of Covid-19 have climbed steadily all around us, so even my weekly foray to the store now takes on new menace.
Zooms have been a good way to stay connected but I also find myself overbooked, at least during the mornings, which have been my time for meditation and writing all of my life. So I space out my participation to preserve contemplative time but it means I miss out on chances to socialize. It’s a good thing I’ve got my roses and geraniums to commune with, I guess.
I’ve always been a sort of reluctant gardener. I love planting something and tending it and watching it grow. As a youth in Hawaii, where we all took horticulture classes and learned how to create functional gardens, I remember serious all-out gardening. Our family moved into a new house there all surrounded with challenging red clay soil. I planted Bermuda grass, then when it had spread I planted coleus that grew into a hedge (!) and propagated papaya trees from the seeds in a papaya I plucked from a tree nearby. These days I’m more a mulch and bright colorful flowers kind of guy. The red and orange blossoms give me pleasure and (I hear) increase our chi. But in my garden as in my personal life I value space.
An interesting theological puzzle has been lurking in the scripture over the past few weeks; this is the idea that the unity of all creation–the unity of God with us and us with each other and therefore all of us with God—this unity is the effect, the crop as it were—of being joined together, which means grown together, like the intertwining trunks of a banyon tree, on the one hand, but also like my zinnias and dahlias and roses and geraniums, nicely separated by pots and mulch but growing together simultaneously and joyfully coloring my garden. They are joined together, but separate too.
Like us, right?
As I said up top, I find myself less inclined to go out where people are these days. I also find myself waiting hopefully for a decline in disease that will make it safe to gather again, especially for loved ones at a distance to gather. We know from epidemiologists as well as from just watching the parts of the world that have successfully reduced transmission of the virus that it all depends on social distance. That the key to any sort of normalcy in the absence of a vaccine or a cure is separation, isolation ….
Pride month, the annual celebration of lgbt lives, has to be virtual this year. No singing, dancing or hugging. As lgbt people we are like my zinnias, I guess, grown together, joined together with our neighbors, yet apart. Our unity, we must always remember, is in God’s love, which is everywhere and eternal.
In the story of the testing of Abraham in Genesis (22:1-14) we learn that God always provides. The outcome of the test lived through with faith is that God provides. It doesn’t make the test go away, it doesn’t make the test less challenging. But the outcome of faith, which is the continuance of love, is always more love. Faith yields love, which yields the joining together that unites us with each other and with God. Love is the answer.
Sin is the theological term used for disconnection, and disconnection only takes place in the absence of love. In Romans 6 (12-23) Paul writes that we must not let “sin exercise dominion.” He means we must be alert to keep love uppermost at all times so that we maintain connection with each other, which is connection with God. Disconnectedness has no power except the power that we give it. Love, the opposite, is the answer to firm everlasting connection. Love is the fertilizer that keeps us growing together. Love is the freedom of knowing we live in God’s creation secure in connection.
Of course, freedom is not license. Love gives us freedom from disconnection. The love that yields freedom requires. at least for now, separation. Because it is only in this separation that we can be certain we are giving love at all times by protecting each other.
Jesus’ sermon in Matthew’s Gospel (10:40-42) is directed to all who are faithful. The essence of the message is that all who love welcome God. “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple …” will be rewarded as righteous. By “little ones” Jesus means all of us—you and me—all of us who are the regular peeps trying our best to walk in love. It reminded me of a time now many years ago when I walked with the Episcopal Church in the pride parade in New York City. Somehow I got to be one of the people carrying the banner at the front of our delegation. My end of the pole was along the east side of the avenues as we paraded down Manhattan. I remember it was hot and sunny. I remember being stunned that so many people were calling my name as I passed them. It turned out lots of people I knew from Philadelphia had made their way to New York for the parade so I was doubly blessed, especially with fellow parishioners (LOL, fellow “little ones”) from churches in both cities (not to mention my model railroading buds). I remember the long line of collared clergy just behind us arms intertwined (grown together in love?) dancing down the avenues to shouts and cheers and applause. And I remember that every block or two when we stopped for a moment a group of volunteers would emerge from the crowd to hand us little cups of cold water—salvation, love, pride, all intertwined, all grown together.
Christian life in a nutshell is walking in love, intertwined in love, living always full out in love, trusting in God’s eternity, which is love.
Proper 8 Year A 2020 RCL (Genesis 22:1-14; Psalm 13 Usquequo, Domine?; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10: 40-42)
©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.
Dimensions of Reality: glbt Christian spirituality 