The Little Apocalypse

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 30, 2008

Read: Mark 13:24-37

Chapter 13 of Mark’s gospel is often referred to as “The Little Apocalypse” based on it’s similarity to the Great Apocalypse of the Revelation of John. Our piece of scripture today is taken from that chapter, The Little Apocalypse. Last week I asked the question, what if today were the end of the world?

As C.S. Lewis said, once the author walks onto stage, the play is over. Many who take these texts as the description of an ultimate denouement of God that will actually happen, don’t obsess about the timing. What difference does it make whether the end of all things happens in my life or if I go to be with God upon the occasion of my own personal death. Either the world ends or I do. What matters is to be awake (whatever we take that to mean). Jesus says it several times.

Today’s piece of scripture seems to be telling us how to live in the midst of the unknown. Jesus is telling us to keep alert; for we do not know when the time will come. Keep awake. So just what is he saying to us?

First of all, I think it’s important to understand the original Greek word for time – kairos- in these words of Jesus’. Time here doesn’t refer to chronological time, as we know it. When we say that we will do something at a particular time, we are using chronos time. Kairos time has to do with crucial time or a decisive moment. A pivotal point in history. You have heard the phrase, “missing the boat” which at it’s heart means missing the opportunity of a lifetime. This is kairos time, it is a moment of opportunity--some refer to it as “God’s time”.

If that is the case, then Jesus is referring to a spiritual alertness. Staying awake to those opportune moments in our lives. Those crucial; special moments.

Barbara Brown Taylor shares the story of visiting her friend John at Nacoochee Presbyterian church. He showed her through the new fellowship hall that was under construction and then went into the church, where a curious thing sat on the communion table. It was a fat white candle sitting in a deep dish with a spiral of rusted barbed wire climbing the air all around it. “What is that?” she asked him, thinking it had something to do with prison ministry. “it’s a symbol I came across that really spoke to me,” he said, gently touching one of the steel barbs. “See, the light has already come into the world, but there is still work to be done. There is still darkness between us and the light.”

There is not any barbed wire around the candles on our Advent wreath, but in their own way they remind us of the same thing. There are four candles, one for each Sunday before Christmas. The first reminds us that this is the beginning of a new church calendar year. And for us, this is also the time of year when darkness settles in. The days are getting shorter and darker and will continue to do so as we light the Advent candles. By the time the earth rounds the bend on December 21, it is the shortest day of the year, barely nine hours long.

One thing Advent tells us is that people of faith know it will get darker before it gets light. Week by week we will light new candles, but even as we light them the darkness will increase. We know the sun will come back, just like we know that God will be born in a barn in Bethlehem. These are sure facts of our lives, but so is waiting in the dark. Anyone who has ever hungered for morning knows that. It will come, but it will not be rushed. You can prop the clock right by your face on the pillow. You can count to sixty 500 times and it will not change a thing. Night creatures will still rustle in the leaves outside your window. Your heart will still beat like a drum in your ears. Morning will come, but it will not be rushed. Our job is to wait without losing hope.

Keep awake, Jesus says. It’s like living in a house by the train tracks. While house hunting we notice the tracks and the sound of the train rolling by; but after moving in and years pass, we no longer hear the sound of the train. We sleep through the whistle blowing and rumbling in the dark of the night. Advent reminds us to spiritually wake up! Notice the train rolling by; notice the opportunities in life; notice what is important.

Jesus uses an example of a fig tree today. It is a strange example for us because we no longer hold fig trees as a key metaphor in our cultural life. When we do encounter figs, they tend to be mashed inside that moist little comfort food cookie, or we might have a fig alongside a piece of fine cheese.

But as for fig trees themselves, I do not see them on the carefully mowed lawns outside of Coatesville. If we do mow our lawns, rake our leaves, it is as a chore, often for appearance’s sake. We do not normally find ourselves considering the branches of the fig tree and how they produce or do not produce fruit. Fruit production happens at the grocery store, when we take the food from shelf, to bag, to car trunk, to pantry; and then suddenly, on our kitchen countertops, fruit has been “produced”.

Yet most of us long for a richer sense of how fruit comes into the world, with its rhythms of leaves and seasons. So whether we walk in orchards or drive around the suburbs, the image of the fig tree transports us to another world. There we imagine people who tend branches, not for the fun of it or to decorate a garden that decorates a house. We imagine a place where fruit trees are tended to because they make a difference in our survival. We imagine a time when figs were a regular part of the diet and helped fill stomachs that might have been left empty, if someone had not faithfully tended those branches.

In Advent, there is still time to wake up from a bad dream. There is still time to encounter instead the presence of Christ in our waking hours.

An agricultural, natural image pulls no punches. The seasons pass, and the fig tree’s growth follows an order, but that fig tree is fragile itself. Some figs will not make it; they simply will not flourish. Staying awake matters, not so much to protect ourselves, but also to notice the beauty in the moment. By staying awake, we may catch the second when the branch is tender, and learn that summer is near. By staying awake, we may be there to see the master who arrives when we are least expecting it, at midnight at cockcrow, or at dawn.

Amidst the holiday parties and late-night shopping trips, the gospel reminds us to be awake to God in the world. This is a way of being awake that might actually be restful, and give us peace. The one who is coming is not an enemy but a friend. He may come in the light, but he may also come in the evening, or at midnight, or at three in the morning. The darkness does not stop him, and it does not have to stop us either. Our job is not to lie in bed with pillows over our heads or to shove all the heavy furniture in front of the door for fear of the darkness outside. Our job is to light the candle wrapped in barbed wire and set it in the window. Our job is to watch for the one who comes to us with healing in his wings and to open the door for him before he raises his hand to knock. Who knows when that will be? No one, that’s who. Watch, therefore. Take heed, watch. For what he says to us he says to all: Watch.

Amen.

If Today Were the End of the World

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 23, 2008 (Christ the King)

Read: Matthew 25:31-46

Judgment Day. Our Last Sunday in Pentecost, this Christ the King Sunday, gives us imagery of Judgment Day. A great lead in to the season of Advent.

I’ll begin with the words to a song by Johnson Oatman entitled “If Today Were the End of the World”.

"If Today Were the End of the World,"

By Johnson Oatman.

The chorus is:

If the sun should be turned into darkness
And the stars from their orbits be hurled,
Oh, how would it fare with you, my brother,
If today were the end of the world?

WE ARE TOLD THAT A GREAT DAY IS COMING,
WHEN THE STARS SHALL LIKE BANNERS BE FURLED.
BUT WOULD YOU BE PREPARED FOR THE JUDGMENT,
IF TODAY WERE THE END OF THE WORLD.

WHEN THE ANGEL SHALL SOUND HIS GREAT TRUMPET,
ON THE CLOUDS WILL OUR SAVIOR DESCEND.
THEN THE CRY WILL GO OUT, TIME IS OVER,
THEN THE WORLD WITH IT'S TURMOIL WILL END.

NO ONE KNOWS BUT THE FATHER IN HEAVEN,
WHEN OUR LORD FROM THE SKY SHALL APPEAR.
BUT IF WE ARE PREPARED FOR HIS COMING,
WE MAY GREET HIM WITH JOY NOT WITH FEAR.

THIS OLD WORLD SHALL NOT GO ON FOREVER,
NOR THE MOON LIKE A BANNER UNFURLED.
THEN SUPPOSE JUST SUPPOSE FOR A MOMENT,
THAT TODAY WERE THE END OF THE WORLD.

Like this song, there is an urgency in our scripture today. It begs the question, where is the urgency to our spiritual lives today? How do we make connection with the divine a priority in today's busy world? How do we make stretching our hearts the most important thing?

I am reminded of Twain's novel, The Prince and The Pauper. Edward Tudor, the son of Henry VIII, and Tom Canty, a look-alike beggar, trade places and clothes. When they exchange clothes, the Prince is no longer recognized and is treated like the beggar Tom. Tom the beggar, then, becomes the Prince and upon Henry VIII's death is believed to be heir to the throne.

Isn't it amazing how two can see the same thing and see it differently? And how can we see something we think we know so well, but see it in a different context and not recognize it at all?

As Advent approaches think about how John the Baptist told the people to "Prepare ye the way of the Lord" for a king they wouldn't recognize because he didn't come in the power and glory they expected. He had come as a helpless, dependent infant, and more recently as a backwater, story-telling, rule breaking preacher.

Think about how Jesus' disciple Philip said, "Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us," and Jesus' response, "Don't you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time?"

So, what is Jesus telling the sheep and the goats? "I did come to you and you didn't recognize me at all. I didn't come in the form or shape or context you expected. But your actions reveal your heart." Yes, the scripture is about faith in action, but it's not about empty works. It's about works whose foundation is love. Love for neighbor as self. Love extended without expectation of reward (after all, they didn't recognize Jesus in the recipients).

Dennis Linn asked a group of retired nuns, "How many of you, even once in your life, have done what Jesus asks and fed a hungry person, clothed a naked person or visited a person in prison?" All the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, "That's wonderful! You're all sheep." Then Dennis asked, "How many of you, even once in your life, have walked by a hungry person, failed to clothe a naked person, or not visited someone in prison?" Slowly, all the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, "That's too bad. You're all goats."

The sisters looked worried and perplexed. Then suddenly one very old sister's hand shot up. She blurted out, "I get it! We're all good
goats!"

It comes down to heaven and hell language and how we understand them. All who have felt alienated, unloved, overwhelmed by shame or helplessly caught in an addiction know what it's like to be in hell. And all who have been welcomed home, who have seen their goodness reflected in the affirming eyes of another or who have been loved into recovery know what it's like to be in heaven. We
all have wheat and weeds within us, sheep and goats. We're all good goats.

In the movie 'Pay it Forward' there is a powerful scene where a homeless man talks a suicidal woman out of jumping off a city bridge and ending her life. Out of their mutual weakness and need, both are able to care for one another. As with the righteous servants in this gospel, both were unaware that they were serving each other in a time of profound trouble. At the end of the scene both have a new chance at life and a renewed sense of hope.

So, what if today were the end of the world? The story about the sheep and the goats is not a comfortable one. It is well-known, but not a favorite. What are we to take away from this judgment day story?

One of the first lessons that grows out of this parable is the awareness that our God, the true God, the one God, who created the universe, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God who raised Jesus of Nazareth from the dead; that our God is also a hidden God who hides himself. God goes incognito. God wears a mask.

Our God hides himself most completely in the faces and places of suffering. Our God is not only a God who reveals himself in the beauty of a sunrise, in the birth of babies, in the bounty of nature; But our God is also a God who hides himself under the faces and places of suffering.

A friend of mine tells a story about when his children were young and small, and used to play a game almost every night for a while. His car would come down the driveway and they would hear the car and go and hide. Joel would hide underneath the kitchen table. Anne would hide behind the door in the bedroom. And my friend would come in the front door and shout, “Where are the children?” Then he would look underneath the sofa, the dining room table, the curtains, and all around, still calling out, “Where are the children?” Anne and Joel would make noise, he would find them, they would shout, “boo”. The point is: the children would hide in obvious places. But every once in a while, they would seriously hide and go down into the basement, way down into the utility room, into the storage room, back behind the water tank, and they would hide. My friend would come and couldn’t find them. He couldn’t find them at all.

By analogy, God sometimes hides in the obvious places. Underneath the kitchen table. Underneath the bed. Behind the back door. The beauty of the sunsets, the birth of babies, the bounty of nature. But our God also goes down into the basement. Our God goes down into the basement and hides himself in a place that people don’t know where he is hiding. God hides himself in the midst of suffering. The place that our God hides is in the water and wine and wafer, but the primary place is in the cross. No other God in the whole wide world gets himself crucified. When our God is crucified, our God is the most hidden. When our God is being crucified today, he is the most hidden. So, a primary understanding of this Bible passage is that our God is a hidden God.

The real lesson of this parable today is an invitation for you and me to seek God. To seek God where God is found. Not to find God in the obvious places such as the beauty and conclude that there is a God. The real lesson of this parable is to seek God where God is to be found and God is to be found hiding behind the faces and places of suffering people.

When Jesus addressed the sheep about going to heaven, the sheep didn’t even realize that they had been generous. They were not even aware. That is the way it is with love, the true love of God. You, yourself, forget yourself in loving and caring for another person.

This quality of love then spreads. To the neighbor down the street and the man who had a stroke. To a person who had a car accident and is all crippled up and for some reason, you become involved.

This love spreads. You begin to realize that your brothers and sisters in Africa or Asia or Latin America or in our ghettos are hungry and starving. This quality of love cannot help but reach out to them. Of course we reach out to them. Why? I don’t know. My brother is starving. My sister is starving. Of course, we reach out to help. We are family. The love of God living inside of us begins to reach out to all kinds of people and we don’t even know it. Amen.

Let Your Light Shine

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 9, 2008

Read: Matthew 25: 1-13

Today Matthew gives us the parable of the ten bridesmaids--Five are wise and five are foolish. This parable can seem, on the surface, to be a tough one. There is the uncomfortableness surrounding staying awake, the wise not sharing their oil with the foolish, and the seemingly closed door. That’s on the surface, though. Let’s dig deeper.

Jesus says, “The Kingdom of heaven WILL BE like this.” The future tense, the WILL BE suggests the end times; but we know that John the Baptist and Jesus himself have told us that the kingdom of heaven has drawn near (3:2; 10:7). This is true, in part, because Jesus personifies the kingdom of heaven -- Emmanuel -- God with us (1:23). It is also true because the kingdom is present in the heart of every person who makes God the priority in his/her life.

The wise bridesmaids are different from the foolish bridesmaids at only one point -- they have the foresight to take flasks of oil to replenish their lamps. Both the foolish and wise bridesmaids sleep, but the wise bridesmaids first prepare for the bridegroom's arrival. They have lamps and oil, and are set to greet the bridegroom no matter when he might arrive. They are ready -- and readiness is the point of this parable.

We might think the wise bridesmaids to be acting selfishly—that uncomfortable surface reaction; but they are instead acting wisely. If they share their oil it will quickly be gone, and the bridegroom will have no light for his wedding party. It is far better that they use five torches to illuminate the pathway for the entire distance than to use ten torches at the beginning and thereby to risk having to walk in darkness at the end -- an unimaginable breach of wedding protocol. So the wise are not acting selfishly, but rather looking at the larger framework and understanding that their oil cannot be shared. Each needs their own store of oil. We each need our own energy, our own light source.

What is readiness or preparedness and what does it look like? Martin Luther looked at the psalms and their talk of Sheol (another word for Hell) as a place where no one is praising God and suggested that if we live a life in praise of God we are already in the kingdom and will remain in the kingdom, past this life.

In Nelson Mandela’s inaugural speech he said: We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure. We are all meant to shine as children do. We are born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence actually liberates others”.

We can all be wise. We can take our flasks of oil; our store of energy; and let our lights shine. It requires developing our relationship with Christ. It requires a deepening understanding of ourselves and an acceptance of ourselves. It requires time spent exploring our faith. It requires time spent exploring the bible. It requires time spent developing character, integrity and compassion, to name a few. These are not things that can be taken or borrowed from another person. Your oil is who you are; it is your energy. And God is reaching out to each of us; wanting a relationship that builds our energy, our oil supply; so that our light might shine long and bright.

God’s grace and presence happens whether or not we are aware of it. Frederick Buechner, borrowing a phrase from Paul Tillich, tells us--We only want to show you something we have seen and tell you something we have heard...here and there in the world, and now and then in ourselves, is a New Creation. God speaks to us, God calls us, Buechner tells us, through the events of our lives. We see and hear God faintly, we catch a glimpse of God here and there...now and then. Sometimes it is in a kind word from a friend, or coming through a complicated surgery, or enduring a failure in your life, or a word of forgiveness from someone you care about very much and whom you hurt deeply, or hearing a friend or spouse say for the fortieth time--Why don't you come to church with me on Sunday? These moments could be life transforming. These are the moments when the Holy Spirit could be opening your heart to the presence of God.

To be aware of these moments when God comes into our lives, here and there, now and then, requires preparation. What's the difference between the five foolish and the five wise bridesmaids? Both fell asleep, both had lamps, both let their lamps go out. The only difference is that the five wise maids brought along an extra flask of oil. The five foolish maids prepared only for the wedding procession. While the five wise prepared not only for the wedding procession, but also for the time of waiting--the in between time.

The interpretation of today's gospel depends a lot on what we make of the word wise or sensible. The wise bridesmaids are ready for the bridegroom when he comes; the others are not. The word in Greek means to think, or to set one's heart on.

I can’t live off your faith. I can’t acquire the character that you’ve built and nurtured over many years of praying your life and living your prayer. I can’t borrow from your reserves of faithfulness and integrity. You have to carve out your own integrity. You have to live your own prayer. I can’t just associate myself with the church and expect to gain the credit for the courageous action for justice and peace that others in the church have undertaken. No one can go on living on the spiritual capital which others have amassed.

As for the seemingly shut door. When the foolish maids asked the Lord to open, he didn’t slam it permanently shut. Look closely. He replied, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you. Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour”. He said, I do not know you. It is an invitation to be known.

I’d like to close with lyrics to a song, entitled, “I Hope You Dance”. It is a beautiful life prayer; full of oil for the journey.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty-handed
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance...I hope you dance.
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin’ might mean takin’ chances but they’re worth takin’
Lovin’ might be a mistake but it’s worth makin’
Don’t let some hell-bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to sellin’ out reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance...I hope you dance
Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along.
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder
where those years have gone.
I hope you dance...I hope you dance
I hope you dance.

Let your light shine. Amen.

Blessed is God's Boat

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 2, 2008

Read: Revelation 7:9-17 and Matthew 5:1-12

This morning, for our opening hymn, we sang a classic Episcopal hymn: For All the Saints. I was reminded at Bible study how comforting the words can be:

For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might:
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
thou, in the darkness drear, the one true Light.
O may thy soldiers, faithful true, and bold,
fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
and win, with them, the victor’s crown of gold.
O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.
And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest;
sweet is the calm of paradise the blest.
But lo! There breaks a yet more glorious day;
the saints triumphant rise in bright array:
the King of glory passes on his way.
From earth’s wide bounds, from oceans’ farthest coast, through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Alleluia, Alleluia.

Some of you know that I am not fond of “war” language and this hymn is filled with it. But, I do see that life can sometimes seem like a battle. And of course, I am conscious of the spiritual realm and the fact that spiritual warfare is real. However, the light is always greater than the darkness. In the end, God wins. And that is always cause for celebration.

Today, we celebrate those who have gone before us and also all of us present here today. It’s as if there is a long, long rope filled with knots. All different type of knots. The knots represent each of us as we habitate this earthly realm and as we pass on, the knots unfold and are not as visible; however, they remain a part of that rope; in communion with us. As our opening hymn this morning states: ‘yet all are one in thee, for all are thine’.

Reminds me of Jesus’ prayer shortly before he died on the cross for us. “That they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

In our gospel reading from Matthew today we hear what are called the beatitudes. Blessed are...

Blessed. It's a funny word, a strange word. Blessed. Say it over and over. It is also a bizarre word, at least in English. It comes from an Old English verb meaning "to consecrate with blood." The Greek makarios seems a little tamer; it refers to a state of happiness, but it comes from the Greek word makar, which refers to those who have died: "the blessed." So even though Jesus seems to be addressing the living in the Beatitudes, the dead always seem to be hovering nearby.

And if we really wrap our heads around what Jesus is saying; he is turning our understandings of what is important in this earthly realm upside down. He is telling us that things are usually not as they seem. He is asking us to put our trust, our faith in God. Somehow, it will be OK, no matter what it looks like on the surface. And our knots on the rope are all connected to each other. What is important is the rope, not the differences in appearance of the knots.

Max Lucado, a well-known devotional author, described the church--what we Episcopalians term the one, holy catholic (and for us catholic means ‘universal’) church--as God’s boat. A vessel with one purpose-to carry us safely to the other shore. This is no cruise ship, it is a battleship. We are not called to leisure, but to service. Each of us has a different task. Some are concerned with those who are in danger of drowning, snatching people from the water. Others are concerned with the care and feeding of the crew. Though different, we are all the same, with one Captain, and one destination. And though our battle is fierce, the boat is safe, for our Captain is strong and the gates of Hell will not prevail against this grand vessel. Of that there is no concern. This boat will not sink.

Max says there is concern, however, not with the strength of the boat, but with the harmony of the crew. You see, when we first came on board, we assumed that everyone here was just like us. But as we have wandered these decks we have found a few curious converts. Some wear uniforms we have never seen. Some sport styles we have never witnessed and we stop them and say, “Why do you look the way you do?” To which they respond, “We were about to ask you the same question!”

The variety of dress is not nearly as disturbing as the diversity of opinions. There is one group, for example, that clusters every morning for intense study. They promote rigid discipline and wear somber expressions. “Serving the Captain is serious business”, they say. It is no coincidence that they tend to congregate toward the back of the boat, the STERN.

There is another regiment deeply devoted to prayer. Not only do they believe in prayer, they believe in a certain posture for prayer. They believe you can only talk with God on your knees with head forward – that is why they can always be found on this vessel near the BOW.

Still another group has positioned itself near the engine. They occupy themselves with studying the nuts and bolts of this ship – they are only comfortable if they can grasp the details. They are occasionally criticized by those who linger on the top deck, inspired by the wind in their hair and the sun in their face who insist, “it is not what you know, it is what you feel”.

Some think once you are on the boat you can never get off. Others say, you would be foolish to go overboard, but the choice is yours. Some believe you were recruited and subsequently volunteered yourself for service on this boat. Others believe you were destined for service before the boat was ever built.

There are those who address the Captain in a private and personal language, while others think such conversation is gibberish. There are those who think the officers should wear special robes and others who think there should be no officers at all.

Then there is the issue of the weekly meeting at which the Captain is honored and his instructions read. All agree on its importance, but some want it loud while others want it quiet. Some want ritual, others want spontaneity. Some want to celebrate so they can meditate, others want to meditate so they can celebrate.

The consequence is a rocky boat. There is trouble on deck. Fights have broken out between sailors. There have been times, incredible as it may seem, when one group even refused to acknowledge the presence of another group on the ship.

Most tragically, some adrift at sea have chosen not to board this boat. “Life is rough out here on the choppy seas,” they say, “but, I would rather face the wind and waves than get caught in a fight between those sailors.”

Can there ever be harmony on the ship? That WAS the dream of the Captain. “That they all may be one”. Four different times in that prayer was the plea, “That they all may be one”. For all the saints.

It a little bit, we will experience Holy Communion. Communion. A coming together in our brokenness to find our healing and wholeness in God, through Jesus Christ. May God grant us the grace to recognize that a different looking knot on the rope can make a difference in our lives, a positive difference. We are all on this boat together. Let us come together striving for that oneness; one in communion with all the saints of every time and place; one long rope connecting us all. We are all on the same boat. The Lord is our rock, our fortress and our might. Our one, true light.

And the light shall overcome the darkness. Amen.