Good morning, congregants and other lovers. I'm having an Easter sunrise service on the back deck with the dogs, God bless them. The sad old phrase, "Gone to the dogs" has a new delightful meaning to me. It usually means things turned out badly, or it referred to people such as criminals and "bad eggs" who were sent away to live among the "lower" creatures as the prodigal son of the Bible did. Here, however, these two beastie boys are my fine, royal guests at the Easter tea table and divine yoga mat designed by Marichit Garcia.
Look here --- we're hurting all over the world today, but still we find love shining over us. My scripture reading this morning is from a book called For the Love of God: Handbook for the Spirit. This is from the chapter entitled "The Long Journey Home,”by Riane Eisler. The incredible jeweled lotus flower that the Buddha is holding was created by my dear friend Cat Brendel of Head Graffiti Studio: http://unsweetenedmagazine.com/mag/head-graffiti-with-cat-brendel/
"I began to see how in prehistoric societies it was much easier to be connected directly to the divine. Everything was divine, including nature. The Goddess gave life, and at death life returned to her womb like the cycle of vegetation, to be reborn. They didn't have our current artificial distinction between spirituality and nature, with man and the spiritual seen as above woman and nature in the hierarchy."
(painting of the goddess Ostara, by Wendy Andrew)
So, on this day that is sacred to many, a celebration of the stone rolled away and a risen Savior, I also celebrate the way the tomb cannot hold the many who have died in recent weeks. Even those "unclaimed" and buried in a potter's field have been claimed by what is holy and relieved from suffering.
I remember the love of Christ, and his gentle spirit, and his sacrifice today, and I honor all the people who are sacrificing their time with their loved ones and putting their lives on the line for others in hospitals and other places. I also remember how Jesus prayed in the garden alone.
It's a little chilly outside this morning, and my toes are cold. I'm going to keep this short and follow the vision of Emily Dickinson, who kept church at home. “The soul selects its own society.”
May your hopes rise... may you feel more alive as you meet this day.
Blessings,
Tamara
And I’m listening to piano music and watching the lovely video that accompanies it.
"I began to see how in prehistoric societies it was much easier to be connected directly to the divine. Everything was divine, including nature. The Goddess gave life, and at death life returned to her womb like the cycle of vegetation, to be reborn. They didn't have our current artificial distinction between spirituality and nature, with man and the spiritual seen as above woman and nature in the hierarchy."
(painting of the goddess Ostara, by Wendy Andrew)
So, on this day that is sacred to many, a celebration of the stone rolled away and a risen Savior, I also celebrate the way the tomb cannot hold the many who have died in recent weeks. Even those "unclaimed" and buried in a potter's field have been claimed by what is holy and relieved from suffering.
It's a little chilly outside this morning, and my toes are cold. I'm going to keep this short and follow the vision of Emily Dickinson, who kept church at home. “The soul selects its own society.”
May your hopes rise... may you feel more alive as you meet this day.
Blessings,
Tamara
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