Thanksgiving

I am grateful for the little things that make life so meaningful:

Nourishment for body, mind and spirit

Family gatherings

Friends around the table

Conversations that draw me in

Sunshine after clouds

Earthy scents of fresh air

Flowing streams and ocean waves

Deep breaths that calm

Smiles of welcome

A full heart

 

Stealing Jesus

As a minister, I am well aware that people sometimes interpret scripture in ways that support their own predilections. It horrifies me, whenever I encounter it, but drawing from my teenage participation in a rather fundamentalist youth group, I assumed God would judge them for it. Justice will be served, I assured myself, even though it might take some time.

These days, however, there are so many ways in which Jesus's teachings and those of other prophets, are being manipulated to favor greed and the urge for power, that I wonder if the arc of justice can ever bend enough to right the accumulated wrongs.

They have stolen Jesus

manipulated his words

done violence 

against the beloved

beleaguered ones

So many good people

wanting to be faithful

buy the message

of greed and power

they don't realize

those slick speakers

have kidnapped Jesus

abandoned the voiceless

shoved aside

peace and compassion

Fear dominates our thoughts

tries to hold us hostage too

dare we protest?

speak truth 

tenderly

courageously

into the cacophony

of hubris

Last Tomato

sitting on the cutting board

half gone already

to Gary's salad

unaware

(both he and perhaps the tomato)

this was the last one

fresh from the garden

of good friends

shared with generosity

out of abundance, yes,

but frosty nights 

loomed

And here we are

the last of a whole red basketful

bursting with flavor

sweet in a way

store-bought cannot comprehend

delighted in with

slow breaths

closed eyes

wide smile

ecstatic tastebuds

savoring summer

 

Sophia's Circle

 

I look around

eight women

from 40-something to 91

so many years

of finding pathways

through the chaos and joys

living brings

Holding faith

in heart and mind

letting it guide

encourage

and simply hold steady

when the storms are rough

roads treacherous

and uncertainty reigns

In this moment

after so many tears

and "opportunities for growth"

wisdom is shared

no clear-cut answers

simply insights and support

as we sit in this circle

face to compassionate face

"Bad Faith" - Acting on Good Faith

 On a friend’s recommendation, I watched the documentary, “Bad Faith” now streaming on Prime. It outlines the history of white christian nationalism, showing how this racist power movement has systematically undermined authentic faith, replacing it with an autocratic organization that stands in opposition to Jesus’s teachings.

When I was a new pastor, someone told a joke about a teenager going out and doing what the pastor had preached about in his sermon. The teen’s parents came in to speak with the pastor, asking him to recant what he had said. “Tell Joey that you were just preaching,” they said. “Tell him you didn’t really mean it.” I thought the joke was funny, but it was funny because the parents did not understand the power of preaching. They did not get the fact that one’s faith is meant to be lived out in very real ways.

Now, the joke does not seem as funny to me. Too many of us, especially those of us who count ourselves as liberal or progressive, do not seem to take our faith seriously enough to act on it. This needs to change. We need to change our ways, and stand up for the values we believe in as people of faith. We need to call out bad faith for what it is, and find our way back to the revolutionary faith of Jesus who called out false leaders for what they were.

Unfortunately, the folks who fell into the white christian nationalist trap did take their faith seriously. They did act, but they didn’t realize they were being duped by a racist agenda and by leaders who turned a blind eye to Jesus’s actual teachings in order to gain political power.

Maybe the religious leaders thought they could return to Jesus once their president and his cronies had control of the White House, but at this point there are no efforts by those in leadership to uphold the values of justice, compassion and mercy that are at the heart of faith for Christians and all authentic religions. If anything, we are seeing the opposite. The vulnerable are being exploited. Honesty and integrity are being run over roughshod. Truth is being submersed in a quagmire of lies.

When encouraged to show mercy, rather than seeing this as an invitation to become a true leader in keeping with Christ’s teachings, the president lashed out, calling the preacher’s comments “nasty in tone” and saying she should not have brought politics into the church. But faith needs to speak up about politics, especially when those in leadership are causing harm.

From the beginning, Jesus spoke truth to power and encouraged his followers to do the same. Good faith depends on our speaking up and taking action. What will you do?

The Bindness of Privilege

I understand the draw of water, the sense of peace it offers. It makes sense to me that people find their way to the ocean for times of respite and relaxation. But for many people, such as Palestinians, peace is too distant for them to imagine.

The contrast that Trump tactlessly drew between the Riviera and war-torn Gaza horrified me. It was a blatant display of the ignorance that a life of privilege, and its concordant disconnection from the realities that most people face, brings. People in Gaza have lost everything - loved ones, homes, communities, their entire way of life! And he has the audacity to suggest that these people be relocated to a country that is not their home, while their homes and communities be bulldozed out of the way to create an upscale resort!

The ignorance of one’s privilege is bad enough, but it is appalling when the president we have elected to lead our country displays such blatant disregard for the lives of others. If we cannot count on our leader(s) to lead us with integrity, wisdom or compassion, then we need to step up and step out.

We need to refuse to be led into the white-supremacist world Trump envisions, and start doing everything we can to create a different, better world. Start where you are. Talk with your family, friends and neighbors about the privilege and racism being promoted by the current administration. Conspire with one another about ways to be the kind and compassionate people that this world needs in every situation.

It is only by standing up and stepping out of the dystopian reality that is attempting to infiltrate our lives, that we can create the reality in which all people are valued, respected, listened to, and believed.

Untangling the Web of White Christian Nationalism

A Defense Intelligence Agency memo, dated Jan. 28, 2025, directs the DIA workforce to suspend observance of the following: Martin Luther King, Jr. Birthday, Black History Month, Women's History Month, Holocaust Day and Days of Remembrance, Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, Pride, Juneteenth, Women's Equality Day, National Hispanic Heritage Month, National Disability Employment Awareness Month and National American Indian Heritage Month.

These days and months commemorate events and people who have been overlooked and outright abused by those in power. By "suspending" the observance of them, our government is trying to return to the days in which they could pretend ignorance of these abuses. But this is like that old children's sermon that uses a tube of toothpaste to show that once the paste has been squeezed out, it is almost impossible to get it back into the tube. 

We have seen the videos and heard the stories, so we can no longer pretend that we do not know about the injustices sustained by our black and brown friends. We cannot wipe from our minds the reality that is the Holocaust, and the continuing discrimination faced by our Jewish sisters and brothers. We cannot make believe that misogyny is in our past when women's sovereignty over their own bodies is denied. 

As a person of faith, I stand in a long line of those who have stood up against racism, sexism, agism, ableist mindsets. For a while there, we thought we had made some progress. Things were looking better. There was still plenty of room for improvement, but we had hope that justice for all was within reach.

But now, the people who want to go back to the "good old days" of white supremacy have elected a president who is using his power to upend all of the good we have accomplished. he has gathered people around him who whisper platitudes in his ear, hoping they will be rewarded with more money, more power, more rolling back of the progressive laws that get in the way of increasing their wealth and power.

One of the frustrating aspects of this power grab, is that white christian nationalism is an insidious part of the mix. But we need to make it clear that this is not Christianity. It is not even close. Christianity stands in absolute opposition to the agenda of white christian nationalism. The trouble is, that savvy leaders in that movement have used christian language in an attempt to draw people into their web of deceit. 

As people of faith, we need to untangle that web. We need to denounce white christian nationalism and its agenda of greed and power. We need to make clear the teachings of Jesus who was himself a brown man, who aligned himself with the poor and the powerless. Christianity is not a prosperity gospel. It does not honor the rich or powerful. In fact, Jesus told a wealthy young man that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a wealthy person to get into heaven. 

I believe Jesus. I also understand that heaven is a long way off for most of us, and that we want this world to be a kinder, more peaceful, and more just place for all of God's children. In order for this to happen, we need to stand up and speak up - scary as that may be.

The Injustice of Immunity

 

The path ahead is a challenging one - no matter what "path" I contemplate these days. My everyday walks are challenging because of the extreme heat that is afflicting most of the country, including Vermont, and the fact that rain either inundates us or skips over our garden means I am often walking in dust or mud.

The path ahead for our country holds far too much of my attention. I subscribe to a national newspaper, hoping for a wide breadth of information about what is going on in the world, but most days my heart takes a dive just skimming the so-called "top stories" which are steadily normalizing a reality I do not want to acknowledge. 

Presidential immunity is just the latest scandal to rise to the top of my newsfeed. And, yes, I do consider it a scandal. I am astonished that we are just stumbling along as if this must be accepted without any pushback. Those of us who believe in this country and the system of checks and balances our founders established, want desperately to rely on them taking care of this problem. But at this point in time, the checks and balances have been dismantled. The Judicial branch of our government, meant to balance the Executive branch, is no longer free of bias, and the Legislative branch is unable to function at all thanks to the deeply entrenched desire on the part of some to oppose anything their colleagues on the other side of the aisle propose.

The dismantling of justice and, honestly, of reality itself, is insidious work. In this country it began quite some time ago. When I comment to equally-frustrated friends that Barack Obama should have appointed a Supreme Court justice in March of 2016, but was blocked by an obstructionist Republican Senate, others with a deeper understanding of history tell me the unravelling started long before that happened in 2016.

I am not equipped to go into the long and painful history of our country's unravelling, and of the root causes of the dissociative state we find ourselves in with regard to reality. But what I will say is that we cannot stand by and just watch this play out. We need to speak up wherever and whenever we can, adding our voices to those who are willing to say we have lost our way as a country and as a people. 

We need to teach our children and our politicians that there IS such a thing as "truth", and that truth is universal. Truth cannot be tamed or manipulated. We as a country need to find our way back to the honest truth - of what is just and fair, as well as the truth of what simply IS. 

Jesus said "the truth will set you free". Personally, I would like to be free again, and this is my wish for all of us. The irony is, that while you and I feel less and less free, a convicted criminal is not only running free, but he is running for president. Until this great injustice is corrected, until everyone stands back on equal footing in this "land of the free and home of the brave", none of us is truly free.

Floods

Vermont was in the national news recently due to the abundance of rain that has drenched our state. Roads, bridges, farms and homes have been damaged by the floods. In some cases they have been washed away. 

When the storms were just beginning, I had an appointment in a town that is about an hour north of my home. Listening to the weather reports and reports of the damage suffered by towns not too far from us, I was worried about making the drive. But I decided to go ahead, taking care to pay attention to any advice my smart phone or the Vermont Public reports might offer.

Gary and I drove north, through some pretty intense rain. The tire track lines in the roads were heavy with water, but not really overflowing. In fact, when we arrived at our destination, the rain was light and didn't even require an umbrella. Even so, we decided to keep our errands to the necessary, and headed home as soon as those were complete. The drive home was a little less rainy, but reports of road closures became the litany that accompanied us for the entire ride home.

We arrived home safely, somewhat shaken by the experience and especially by the reports that we heard of so much destruction. Several days of rain resulting in worse flooding than back when Irene hit Vermont, left us and our garden soggy, but fine.

Almost a week later, Gary and I were back in Middlebury, in the evening. We were drawn to the bridge right in the middle of town that goes over the Otter Creek. The water was high. It was forceful as it pushed against an island of trees that are usually not right in the middle of the flow. I took the picture above, sort of as a reality check, reminding me of the strength of those waters. Also reminding me of the fact that despite humankind's technological advancements, we are still subject to the very primal forces of nature.

My heart goes out to those whose lives and livelihoods have been upended by the recent floods. Any one of us could be in their shoes in the blink of an eye. Life is such a tenuous gift. We do well to live each day fully, and to support one another with kindness and healing acts of generosity.

 

Like a Butterfly

When Gary and I stopped in Virginia to spend a week with Sarah and Kyle, their neighbors, Debby and her daughter Callie invited us to come over and learn how to work with stained glass. During the pandemic, they had set up an entire studio in their home so they had everything we would need to try it out. When we arrived to take them up on their offer, Sarah and I were entranced by all of the beautiful and unique stained glass pieces displayed throughout their home.

Downstairs in the workshop, we each chose a simple pattern to work with - a butterfly for me and a hummingbird for Sarah. Our hosts assured us that if we caught on, and they were sure we would, that next time we could make something more interesting and complicated. Speaking for myself, this project was just the right amount of complicated for my first attempt, and the process itself certainly proved to be plenty interesting!

With our patterns in hand, we looked through several rainbows worth of colors to find just the right ones to match the finished products in our imaginations. We cut the glass carefully using special tools, and then sanded the edges of each piece with a grinder. This was the first aspect of the process that worked on me like a meditation. Holding tiny pieces of glass up to the grinder as the machine spun, my attention was transfixed as I watched for the moment when each edge perfectly fit my pattern. 

Once they had been ground just right, Callie showed me how to apply a special metal tape around each piece. Some more grinding was in order as I refit the pieces together with the tape in place. Once the tape was secure, it was time to solder the pieces together. This turned out to be yet another opportunity for mindful focus as it was tricky to get the solder to lay down smoothly with no bumps or sharp spots.

Since I wanted my butterfly to have black edges, the last part of the process was to coat the cooled solder with a patina, let it set overnight and then buff it into a nice shine. Saying a grateful "goodbye" along with deep appreciation for Callie and Debby's patient teaching, I was excited to bring my butterfly home.

I learned more than the basic skills of working with stained glass during the hours I spent bringing my butterfly into being. As I said, it was a meditative experience in many ways because so much of the process required patiently shaping and reshaping each tiny piece of glass until all of the pieces fit together just right. It was a deep teaching about the importance of paying attention to detail and of the value of each and every part of the larger whole, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant it was. Every little piece of glass mattered. Paying careful attention at every stage of the process made a difference in the butterfly and in me.

Henry David Thoreau wrote, “Happiness is like a butterfly, the more you chase it, the more it will evade you, but if you notice the other things around you, it will gently come and sit on your shoulder.” As I was learning how to work with stained glass, a deep sense of contentment settled on me. It came to me as an unexpected gift that I had not even thought to pursue. 

My completed butterfly in a sunny window at home in Vermont. 

(I took this last picture, but all of the previous ones were taken by my daughter, Sarah Colletti.)

The Wisdom of Bluebirds

                                                                ~Photo by June Schulte

My friend June took this photo of a Bluebird who was doing his best to deal with below-zero temperatures. When you live in Vermont and it is winter time, your options for keeping warm are limited. Recently, when the temperatures dipped well below freezing, this little guy perched on a branch above a heated bird bath for the duration. Puffing his feathers out, he created as much insulation from the cold as he could muster. 

I have been spending a lot of time with Florida's birds, none of whom seem to have any trouble accepting the warm and sometimes hot weather down here. Being so close to water most of the time, they can easily dip in and cool off if that is their desire. The ocean breezes help to keep things comfortable as well, for birds and for us.

This got me to thinking about how we protect ourselves from the extremes that challenge us - extremely hot or cold weather, emotional ups and downs, and more painfully, the tragedies that sometimes touch our lives. How do we insulate ourselves so that we have the protection we need? How do we ensure that we are not thrown too far off balance by the challenges that come our way?

Sometimes I wish I was like this little Bluebird and could puff up my feathers to create a soft cushion around me. Seeing him got me to thinking about what we humans can do for ourselves when the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" whiz around our ears. What stands in the place of fluffy feathers for us?

Companionship is possibly the strongest protection we have. Family, friends, companion animals, co-workers, other folks who know something about what we are facing. Each of these offers support to us when we need it, and each offers different kinds of accompaniment, depending on their particular gifts and on our relationship with them. Some are good listeners, others offer deep wisdom, some are active and get us moving when we need that, while others are good cozy company when we need to curl up for awhile. 

For me, companionship also comes in the mysterious form of the Holy. Call this God, Spirit, All-That-Is - whatever strikes a chord with your own inner knowing. Even after years of ministering, and of praying my way through a humbling array of crises, the Holy shows up in my life, my mind and my heart in a wide variety of ways. Even now, a simple name does not manage to wrap this Presence up for me in any kind of authentic way. But I know I am held in this Holy Presence, always.

Quite some time ago when I was going through a rough patch, a dear friend guided me to imagine myself surrounded by rose colored light, she described it as an egg-shaped rose quartz. This was meant to provide protection from any outside elements that challenged me and also to be a source of strength so that I could face those challenges with courage. It helped, so I return to this practice whenever I feel the need for a little extra protection, a little extra courage. 

When I surround myself with this light, I feel the presence of all of my companions in life - the mysterious presence of God, Spirit, All-That-Is and the earthier presence of dear family and friends. In this way, I feel held in Love. As I get ready to take whatever step seems the next right thing to do, I am held in Love. If I need to curl up and sit tight for a while as the sweet Bluebird in this picture is doing, I can do that with a sense of peace. Knowing that no matter what, the love of family, friends and the Holy surrounds me now and always, gently guiding me, never judging, always holding me close.

My Seagull Friend

I was sitting on the beach yesterday, reading a book and minding my own business when this young seagull alighted on the sand a few feet away from me. I turned to look at him, smiled and said something like "I don't have anything for you, buddy," knowing that gulls are often drawn in when a person is eating, but demonstrating that I did not have any food for him or for me.  

I returned to reading my book at which point he took a few steps toward me. When I looked up from my book to take a closer look at him, he looked at me, all innocence. He was young, I could tell that because his head still had the scattering of light brown spots that gulls have for their first year or so. He was so close I could see his yellow legs and noticed the rubbery, slightly grubby texture of them, like a child's toy that had been dragged from place to place accumulating a bit of dirt along the way. 

We looked at each other for a while longer. He took breaks to poke his beak into his shoulder feathers and satisfy an itch, while I glanced back at my book now and then. My book was good, but to be honest it could not compete with the proximity of my seagull friend who persisted in standing at my shoulder, sneaking closer step by step when he thought I wasn't looking.

As he crept nearer, I got a chance to see his beak close up, and was careful to keep my hands tucked in my lap, unsure just how far our friendship would take us, not knowing what role a beak plays in seagull-human relationships. He might think he was just reaching out with a friendly gesture, while for me it could result in a painful nip. At this point, he bent his head down toward the sand and started to screech. "Gosh, his mouth is absolutely bright orange!" I noticed as he verbalized his frustration. 

He flew off and landed a little ways down the beach. I thought that was probably the end of our little encounter, but after a minute or two of poking around the sand down there, he flew back to his sentry post at my shoulder. He looked me in the eye as if to re-establish our rapport, and took a few steps toward me again. At that point he looked away. It seemed studied to me, as if he was attempting to adopt a carefree attitude about whether I was glad to see him or not.

"How are you doing, buddy?" I asked, wanting to put him at ease and reassure him of our continuing bond. I started wondering if he might have been one of those young gulls I saw just days after hatching on Monhegan Island back in June. Gary had returned to his seat next to me by then so together we wondered about gulls and migration. Would a gull born in Maine make his way to Florida for the winter? I had no idea, but I was trying to make sense of the interest this young guy was showing toward me.

For the next hour or so he continued to stand nearby watching me intently, sometimes taking breaks to fly off down the beach for an interaction with another gull, or to shake off some of the excess energy he must have been building up by standing at my shoulder for so long. But he kept coming back.

When it came time for Gary and I to leave I felt like I was abandoning a friend. I assumed he would fly off when we stood up and started packing up our chairs, but no, he stood right there watching us. Even as we walked away, offering encouragement as we left. I worried that he would stand there and watch us until we were out of sight. My heart was already feeling sad at leaving him, and I didn't think I could take it if he kept looking at me so intently. 

When we were about ten feet away, he started moving as if to follow us, but then stopped at a pile of seaweed and started picking it apart, looking for something to eat, I assume. Seeing that he had something new to hold his attention, I felt more comfortable leaving. "Maybe we will see you another day, buddy!" I called out, and who knows, maybe we will?

 

Theater in the Woods

"Theater in the Woods" is a tradition of long-standing in our little Vermont town. It began as a part of a larger festival that featured workshops and speakers about solar energy and homesteading practices along with music and a celebration of the arts. The plays were written by local folks including children's book author Frank Asch, and usually had a moral to them that reminded the audience how to care for the earth, or how to treat one another with kindness. Although the festival is no longer, the theater that was a part of it has continued. It has grown into a popular summer camp for children and teens, run by many of the people who starred in the original performances back in the day, carrying a wonderful continuity of purpose and joyful connection.

On the final day of each session, the campers and staff put on a play that travels to a variety of locations in the neighboring meadow and orchard. The audience troops good-naturedly through the fields, along trails, with special accommodations made for those with mobility issues. We all follow the lead of a colorful larger than life puppet, squeezing in close to the action at each location, the better to hear and see. Before the performance, the camp's director, Melissa Chesnut-Tangerman commented that the play they chose this year was a wordy one, making it challenging for the actors to learn all of their lines in the brief time they had together. As a group they came to the conclusion that it was the process that was important to them, and not the end result of a flawless performance.

As the play unfolded, this intention became clear to those of us in the audience. The actors supported one another, covering for each other so well and smoothly that it was difficult to pick up on any glitches of memory. The meaning of the play came through when one of the main characters used her wish to grant a gift to her newfound friend rather than for personal riches. Her action, and the cast's true ensemble spirit brought home the message that community, and supporting one another are values that make for a good life.

My hope is that all of us - actors and audience - brought home with us this message. Each of us has it within us to make the world a better place, one choice at a time, one action at a time, one person at a time.

For more info, see: Theater in the Woods