Welcome to David Mundy's nearly-daily blog. David retired after 37 years as a United Church minister (2017)and has kept a journal for more than 39 years. This blog is more public but contains his personal musings and reflections on the world, through the lens of his Christian faith. Follow his Creation Blog, Groundling (groundlingearthyheavenly.blogspot.ca) and Mini Me blog (aka Twitter) @lionlambstp
This past Wednesday marked the anniversary of the March on Washington in 1963, a historic event in the Civil Rights Movement which brought a quarter of a million people to the Lincoln Memorial and the Mall.
There were many speeches that day and a solo by the great gospel singer Mahalia Jackson, a long-time friend of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who often sang at his rallies. King was the last of the speakers and he began working from carefully prepared notes. His address seemed somewhat stilted and cerebral, and then this:
Mahalia Jackson intervening at a critical junction when she decided King’s speech needed a course-correction. Recalling a theme she had heard him use in earlier speeches, Jackson said out loud to Martin Luther King Jr., from behind the podium on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, “Tell them about the dream, Martin.” And at that moment, as can be seen in films of the speech, Dr. King leaves his prepared notes behind to improvise the entire next section of his speech—the historic section that famously begins “And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream….”
Mahalia Jackson and Martin Luther King Jr.
Who else could have done this other than a dear friend whose own faith and ministry through music emboldened her to invite Dr. King, an accomplished orator, to change course and offer what was arguably his most famous and inspiring speech?
After the rally Event organizers met with President John Kennedy and Vice President Lyndon Johnson at the White House. No women, not Rosa Parks or Mahalia Jackson,nor Coretta King were included. Where would the Civil Rights Movement have been without them and so many more?
After 141 years of construction, La Sagrada Família is now scheduled for completion in just 24 months. It is the longest ongoing building project in the world and it will be the tallest church in the world.
While I have been to Europe several times there are cities I wish I could have visited but never will. One of them is Barcelona with the remarkable La Sagrada Familia Basilica. The church was designed by Antoni Gaudi in a fantastical Art Nouveau style that is architecturally unique. Begun in 1882, only a quarter of the structure was completed by the time of Gaudi's death in 1926.
The caption for the photo above is certainly misleading. While this may one of the lengthiest construction projects not yet completed many of the great cathedrals of Europe took centuries to come to fruition.
I do feel that the most meaningful places of worship, whether large or small, are intended to convey a sense of the holy. I've read that La Sagrada Familia is constantly busy, packed with tourists from around the world entering on timed tickets -- "the most visited monument in Spain." I imagine this will be the reality when Notre Dame reopens in Paris. When is a church no longer a Christian sanctuary but a museum or attraction? Are there times for public worship when the faithful can gather, unimpeded, no selfies allowed?
La Sagrada Familia means "the Holy Family", referring to the infant Jesus, Mary and Joseph.This is a far cry from the stable in Bethlehem but the completion of this structure will be a triumph.
Last week we visited a wonderful beach called Sandy Cove, on the Eastport Peninsula. It is part of the outport of Happy Adventure, perhaps the best name for a community anywhere in the world...but I digress...
While we were walking the beach we passed someone who appeared to be a tween, a girl standing ankle deep in the water, looking out to the spectacular view. Except that she was looking down at her cellphone, scrolling away. After we'd strolled on a safe distance I muttered "this generation is screwed." Of course this was a crass generalization yet I can't help but feel that we've aided and abetted a technological hell for young people that will be almost impossible to change.
As school resumes (two of our grandchildren are already back) we're hearing about the provinces, including Ontario, banning mobile phones in classrooms, to mixed reviews. I've heard kids of all ages who are supportive of these bans, as well as parents and teachers, while others are vehemently opposed. Some teachers are rightly concerned that the guidelines for enforcement are vague and put them in a compromised position with students who may be belligerent. There are the hovering parents who insist that they must be able to communicate with their children at all times, even though calling the school office might just do the trick.
What these prohibitions are trying to address is the crisis of attention we are facing as a society, not only with young people but across the range of ages, myself included. I feel that this is a spiritual crisis because the ability to attend to the world around us is essential to soul-health. To be fair to our youth, on Sunday mornings there are three teens whol are regularly part of worship, one who teaches Sunday School and two in the choir. I never see them with a cellphone but I've notice adults sneaking peeks during the service.
I'm with the late poet Mary Oliver who wisely made the connection between attention and devotion and prayer. God be with the students and teachers in classrooms across the country.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
Sosthenes, Apollo, Cephas, Tychicus, Epaphroditus, Cæsar and Onesiphorus
So that you also may know how I am and what I am doing, Tychicus will tell you everything. He is a dear brother and a faithful minister in the Lord. I am sending him to you for this very purpose, to let you know how we are and to encourage your hearts.
Ephesians 6: 21-22 NRSVue
Tychicus (/ˈtɪkɪkəs/: Greek: Τυχικός) was an Asiatic Christian who, with Trophimus, accompanied the Apostle Paul on a part of his journey from Macedonia to Jerusalem. He is also alluded to have been with Paul in Rome, where the apostle sent him to Ephesus, probably for the purpose of building up and encouraging the church there.
Wikipedia
I mentioned recently that during the past couple of months I've broadened my daily scripture reading from a psalm to the other suggested readings from the Older and Newer Testaments. I admitted that my ability to turn with confidence to a particular book was rusty, in no small part because of the ease of simply typing in a reference to a search engine or online bible resource. It's been good to sharpen those skills again.
A couple of the epistle readings have been from the concluding chapters of Pauline letters, Romans and Ephesians. Yesterday I read from the farewell words of Paul to the congregation in Ephesus and noticed the name of someone named Tychicus who was knew to me. I am regularly humbled by the stories I either don't remember or have never read, and the names of people I've never heard of. I assumed that Tychicus is a one-time mention in the New Testament, but no, he shows up five times! He seems to have been a confidant and friend of Paul. How have I missed him?
I've realized that even though Paul "thinks deep thoughts" in both of these letters he makes sure he acknowledges those who are trustworthy and faithful members of these fledgling Christian congregations. In Romans 16 he gives affectionate shout-outs to 26 people by name, as well as others. He thanks someone named Rufus and his mother, saying she was a mother to him as well -- high praise. He expresses gratitude to Prisca and Aquila "who risked their necks for my life." What was it they did, I wonder?
Most of these people, including Tychicus, are Christians we don't know much about and they aren't the "stars" of the spread of the faith. Yet Paul appreciates their witness and their worth, their friendship and faithfulness.
This got me reminiscing about the hundreds of "nobody" Christians in congregations I served through the decades who were, in fact, somebodies, essential to the work or Christ's church. Often they were low-profile but rock solid in their contributions. Coincidentally -- providentially? -- I passed one of those persons while cycling along the Bay of Quinte this morning. Before I retired I commended her for the many ways in which she contributed to the life of the congregation, usually without any public recognition. She seemed surprised by my praise but she deserved it.And I know that she's still very involved. I see the same with lots of people in the congregation that is our church home now.
My life in ministry was enriched by so many of these folk, including the ones whose names I would struggle to recall now. Hey, if Paul forgot a name or three I can't be too hard on myself and I was in ministry a lot longer than he was!
This past Saturday there was a lengthy article in the Globe and Mail Opinion section by Tanya Talaga with the title Unfreedom in our fabric, with the image of a Hudson's Bay Blanket and a length of chain.Talaga, an Indigenous person, writes exceptionally well on Indigenous subjects, eloquently cutting to the heart of issues of the present day and the past.
In this piece she makes the connection between 18th century British Empire families which had made their fortunes through Caribbean sugar plantations and the fur trade in what is now Canada. As unconnected as they might seem, the abolition of slavery in the Empire meant that these families needed to look elsewhere to generate wealth and the region then known as Rupert's Land, run by the Hudson's Bay Company was ideal. In fact, Prince Rupert, first governor of the HBC, was also a director of the Royal African Company which had a monopoly in the transatlantic slave trade.
A common thread was the exploitation of human beings. Most of those involved in running the fur trade treated Indigenous peoples as less than human. Talaga notes that this is a grim aspect of Canadian history we have chosen to ignore, although a scholar who is an exception is Dr. Anne Lindsay. Here are a few paragraphs from the article that draw upon Lindsay's work:
Her research reveals that many untold examples of chattel slavery existed in the imperial world in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, extending from Montreal, over the Canadian Shield and into the Prairies. “Chattel slavery, alongside other forms of unfreedom, traced out along these webs, might be encountered any place that fur traders travelled, reflecting the racialized constructions of freedom and unfreedom they were familiar with,” she writes.
Dr. Lindsay notes that the history of unfreedom – of slavery in Canada, of the buying and selling of Indigenous people and of their forced labour – is rarely discussed. It is a history framed by erasure, by a lack of record-keeping in a colonial narrative. Open this photo in gallery:
Voyageurs, illustrated in the 1880s, portage on a trip from Lake Winnipeg to York Factory, whose fort was established by the HBC in the 1680s. Its records from that era include notes of transactions for human beings.GLENBOW FOUNDATION LIBRARY/SUPPLIED
Indigenous slaves were mostly women or young boys. They were stolen by war parties, then bought and sold like possessions. Our people were kept as HBC guides, translators, general labourers, domestic workers, passed around from one post to another. Slavery made many of our people economically dependent on the fur trade. Our women were stolen, they were trafficked, they were “married” off to the workers, the labourers and the traders of empire and given the most ridiculous, romantic name of “country wives.”
The HBC’s George Simpson openly referred to Indigenous women and those who were called “half-breeds” at the time as “brown bits,” “commodities” and “brown jugs.” He had at least 13 children whose mothers were Indigenous. After the women gave birth to his offspring, he threw them – and the kids – away.
Do I really want to know about this sordid past as a generally proud Canadian? Honestly, I don't, but neither do I feel that I have the right to ignore it. As a member of Canadian society and as a Christian I acknowledge the importance of Truth and Reconciliation as a process. And we now dutifully make our Land Acknowledgements in many settings, including in many congregations of the United Church. But I can't turn away from the truth, even when it makes me uncomfortable. We still have a long way to go, a lot to learn, and so much to change.
While in the Gander Library in Newfoundland last week I noticed a brochure/poster explaining the tradition of the Gander River Boat/Canoe. This river flows out from the sizeable Gander Lake (56 km long) to Notre Dame Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. The river is wide at points but it is treacherously rocky and requires considerable skill to navigate. The Gander Bay boats were cleverly adapted for the conditions, narrower than a punt, and while they were originally poled along the river they were eventually redesigned to take a 20 horsepower engine. Many members of two of my outport congregations of the early 1980s owned these boats and used them to guide fishers at lodges along the river, owned by forestry companies for the benefit of their corporate clients.
Seeing this brochure brought back memories from our time there. Two of the people featured we knew back then.
One of my memories is humorous, even though it seemed deadly serious at the time. I discovered that the Gander Bay United congregation was raffling off one of the boats to raise money to meet the congregational budget. This was against United Church policy and when I brought it up with the treasurer I could see from her face that she'd hoped that I wouldn't find out what they were up to. As a newly ordained minister I was very earnest and phoned one of our Conference officials about how to proceed. He gently talked me off the ledge and suggested that there was no point in trying to stop what was already well underway. It was good advice and I chuckle about it now.
Another memory is of us travelling up the river in one of those boats with a couple from the same congregation who took us overnight to their cabin. People were often pleasantly surprised by our enthusiasm as mainlanders for trips out to islands and jigging for cod and other adventures. We were 25-year-olds and we loved these outings.
Our host attempted a tutorial on the fine art of fly fishing for the salmon of the Gander River but I was an abysmal failure. At one point I asked if I needed a license to do this and the answer was yes. But with a grin and a shrug he said "I'm the conservation officer, so who's going to catch you?" It was a good point, and those salmon were safe from me anyway.
Here is my confession, 40-odd years later. I loved the lines of those boats, so much like a canoe, and I coveted one, even though owning one would have been totally impractical. If I'd been able to figure out how to anonymously buy a couple of tickets on the raffle I probably would have done so!
or loose the cords of Orion? 32 Can you lead forth the Mazzaroth in their season, or can you guide the Bear with its children? 33 Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you establish their rule on the earth?
Job 38: 31-33 NRSVue
Before we left for a two-week vacation on a remote island off Newfoundland I expressed my hope that we would experience a clear night sky with the a view of the Milky Way and constellations at least once. One evening at bedtime the sky was cloudless, unusual in Newfoundland, so we set our alarm for 1:30 AM with the hope that we'd get a view of the heavens.
Ruth generously allowed me to be the advance scout while she kept the bed warm and I soon returned with a positive report. The Milky Way was quite evident and I quickly realized we were at the height of the Perseid Meteor Shower. Then, when I looked to the north and west I could see the Northern Lights. Ruth joined me, and while the Aurora Borealis wasn't as spectacular as other times we've seen it, there was a green curtain across the horizon, climbing into the sky.
During our stay we were also treated to some wonderful sunsets and moonrises reflected on the water. On our penultimate evening the sun was spectacular as it was setting but then suddenly disappeared behind haze. We heard on the CBC the next morning that this was from forest fires, a sobering reminder about our climate-changed country.
When I wrote my earlier blog I quoted the passage from the 38th chapter of Job where God asks the beleagured schlep if he had ever arranged the constellations, hardly a pastoral question. During a visit to the lovely old Anglican Church on Change Islands I opened the 175-year-old King James Bible to these verses. It seemed the fitting thing to do.
God gave Solomon very great wisdom, discernment, and breadth of understanding as vast as the sand on the seashore, so that Solomon’s wisdom surpassed the wisdom of all the people of the East and all the wisdom of Egypt.
He was wiser than anyone else, wiser than Ethan the Ezrahite and Heman, Calcol, and Darda, children of Mahol; his fame spread throughout all the surrounding nations.
He composed three thousand proverbs, and his songs numbered a thousand and five.
He would speak of trees, from the cedar that is in the Lebanon to the hyssop that grows in the wall; he would speak of animals, and birds, and reptiles, and fish.
People came from all the nations to hear the wisdom of Solomon, from all the kings of the earth who had heard of his wisdom.
1 Kings 4:29-34 NRSVue
And Solomon succeeded David20 and said: "O people, we have been taught the speech of birds21 and we have been endowed with all kinds of things.22 Surely this is a conspicuous favour (from Allah)."
Surah 27:16 Quran
I've been reading the daily lectionary passages this Summer and been reminded of some of the remarkable storytelling of the Hebrew Scriptures. Yesterday I came upon this passage about the wisdom of Solomon which asserts that he was a poet and musician, but also something of a botanist and biologist.
I knew about this verse and the ancient legends that he spoke with the critters, not just of them. The image that emerges is of a mash-up of Charles Darwin and Dr. Doolittle. As you can see from the paintings, this has captured the imaginations of artists from different traditions, including Islam, for hundreds of years.
I'm not sure why I don't have this verse posted somewhere in my study in big, bold print because it's so timely. We seem to have lost the ability as humans to "converse" with animals and birds and reptiles and fish. Our empirical science has downplayed the spiritual and mystical dimensions of relationships with the web of Creation and while I'm dubious about Solomon chatting with creatures I do feel that human wisdom involves listening and learning with humility.
If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.
Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, assuming human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.
Philippians 2: 1-8 NRSVue
The Democratic National Convention has drawn to a close in Chicago. Phew. Why is it that in the United States the motto "nothing succeeds like excess" so often comes to mind? Hey, the choice by President Joe Biden to bow out of the upcoming election and the renewal of hope in the choice of Vice-President Kamala (Comma, la) Harris does seem like divine intervention. And the Obamas and Oprah and even Hilary Clinton were impressive orators, in a way that not a single Republican could match. Harris and Tim Walz deported themselves as competent and sincere adults in the room who deserve to lead the country. But the endless parade of speeches and musical numbers often seemed more about spectacle than political gravitas. The first album I gave Ruth at age 19 was Stevie Wonder's Innervisions but the "Higher Ground" dance thing was just odd.
I was intrigued by the constant references to "freedom" beginning with Beyonce and concluding with Kamala. This is often the Republican dog-whistle word, used with "you're not the boss of me" belligerence.
I believe in freedom -- freedoms, actually. A number of them were mentioned this week, including freedom of reproductive choice and freedom to love without fear of reprisal or judgement. I certainly believe in freedom from oppression. I definitely believe in freedom of religion, yet I often have the sense that for certain Christians this sanctifies a "me and Jesus" individualism which has contributed to the morass of American politics.
The White Nationalism that has metastasized in the US is too often a blasphemous perversion of this brand of conservative Christianity. It shouldn't be lost on us here in Canada that the closing arguments in the trial of "Freedom Convoy" leaders are happening as we speak. Many of those selfish brats claimed to be Christians, even as they were intimidating people going to church and serving meals at a Christian ministry for the marginalized.
All this freedom talk brought to mind the confessional hymn of the early church found in Paul's letter to the church in Philippi with the reminder that Jesus gave up power for the sake of a greater good.
I am praying for the soul of America, in part for that country, but also because of the influence on the rest of the world.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.
Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4: 4-7 NRSVue
In September of 2001 hundreds of US-bound airplanes were diverted from American airspace because of the terrorist attacks involving planes used as weapons of mass destruction. Hundreds landed at Canadian airports including 38 at Gander, Newfoundland.
You may be aware that the town of Gander was built as an aviation waystation during WW2 as military aircraft crossed the Atlantic. For a time this airport was the largest in the world and for 30 years or so following the end of the war many commercial planes landed in Gander coming from Europe. Even in the early 80s, when we lived in an outport 60 kilometres from Gander, there were regular defections by passengers from Eastern European countries behind the Iron Curtain on their way to Cuba.
On the fateful day now known as 911, 7,000 passengers from scores of countries found themselves in a town of 9,000 most of weren't aware existed, in a country they hadn't intended to visit. Initially the passengers and crews had no idea why the planes were forced to land far from their destinations and some had to remain onboard for more than 24 hours.
This is an artist's interpretation of flights being diverted to Gander International Airport.(Submitted by Seattle Repertory Theatre )
A "loaves and fishes" minor miracle of hospitality occurred when Gander and surrounding communities provided food and shelter and kindness for several days until is was possible for their guests to leave. Out of this experience came the hit musical, Come From Away, enthuiastically received in New York and Toronto and other big cities.
We figured we were the last people in North America who hadn't seen Come From Away (we weren't) when we took it in earlier this week in Gander. All the performances in the 400-seat Arts and Culture Centre have been sold out and the corny cliche, "we laughed, we cried, it became a part of us" was apt for our response. The cast and the musicians were wonderful.
I didn't expect two powerful religious moments during the performance. A bus driver speaks about taking a load of non-English speaking passengers to a Salvation Army Camp where they were frightened at the sight of uniformed greeters. He sees one of them with a bible and turns to Philippians 4 and the verses above. This actually took place.
Later one of the characters recalls a hymn from childhood, Make Me a Channel of Your Peace, based on the prayer of St. Francis. This is sung and interwoven with the sung prayer by a rabbi, the lone Jewish passenger, while a Muslim, who was regarded with great suspicion, kneels in prayer. Yup, I shed a few tears.
We're so glad we finally saw Come From Away. We had just come from visiting a friend now living in a nursing home in Gander whose family welcomed us decades before, a young "come from away" couple who arrived straight from Toronto. Hospitality is a spiritual gift we can all practice, although some seem to do so better than others.
Two quick notes: a local restaurant owner was invited on stage before the performance to share that he was enlisted to provide what turned out to be thousands of meals for the stranded passengers back in 2001.
And on stage there is a map with crocheted friendship squares, made by Newfoundlanders. The word went out that they wanted 100 for the production. They received 2,200 so they are on the walls throughout the theatre.
Regular Lion Lamb blog readers will know that I haven't posted in ten days. Some of you commented thoughtfully about blog entries and I didn't respond. We have been away for two weeks in Newfoundland, a province we visit often because we grew to love the area where I began my ministry in the United Church 44 years ago and where a diminishing number of friends still live. Once again, most of our time was spent on Change Islands, adjacent to Fogo Island.
We had wonderful weather, the erratic ferries were on time, and we rambled about 110 kilometres. We've declared this to be fairly good for old-timers. On all these walks, save the final day, we saw a grand total of one other person. We did see otters and bald eagles and plenty of other seas birds. We even swam in the ocean, as we did last year -- the Labrador Sea, no less.
We also engaged in the old-school pastime of reading...books...the paper ones that you hold in your hands. I hauled along a book bag and we strategically chose novels we could both enjoy. I took along a Good Book and explored the daily lectionary readings, and more. I've mentioned before that I've grown rusty with my "bible drill" over the years, the ability to easily move about in the Judeo/Christian scriptures. It's so much simpler to do an internet search for a passage or call up the daily readings. It was worthwhile to get reacquainted with chapter and verse.
I found -- we both did -- that the relative difficulty of making an internet connection and no TV were blessings rather than curses. We figure we even slept better.
I'll say more along the way, including describing the pleasure of seeing the Come From Away musical in Gander, where the story unfolded.
I look forward to hearing from you in the days ahead as I get back into the patterns of daily life, including this Lion Lamb blog.
The humanitarian crisis in South Sudan is staggering. A country that came into being with hope has descended into despair as many as 12 million people have been displaced with untold numbers on the brink of starvation. It seems as though other crises such as Ukraine and Gaza have diverted the world's gaze.
The United Church of Canada is in partnership with churches in South Sudan, so I share this prayer:
Praying with the South Sudan Council of Churches
Wounded Christ,
the blood of the South Sudanese people is wailing from the ground:
the cries from all killed in Bentiú, Bor, Malakal and beyond ache in our broken hearts.
The moans from refugee camps:
The grunts of the elderly, who have long since forgotten their age;
The tears of parents, fiercely protective and hungry;
The growling tummies of the young, surviving on grass, wild fruits, and leaves on long
treks to seek refuge.
The land is sobbing.
Brother Christ,
call us to acts of solidarity with the people of South Sudan,
for we are their brothers and sisters, just as they are ours.
We cannot and will not keep silent through the sobs of our kin.
May we always hold and keep the people of South Sudan in our words, thoughts, and deeds.
And so, with the South Sudan Council of Churches, we pray for:
An immediate end to war;
A commitment to face-to-face peace talks and negotiations
before the situation further escalates;
More desperately needed humanitarian aid to all areas and people affected.
Risen Christ,
every time our siblings suffer you are wounded again;
every time a brother or sister is killed you are crucified again.
It must stop.
We pray, Christ, for it to stop.
Help us, Resurrected Christ, to be each other’s keepers as we together work toward a South
Sudan where all are free to live peacefully, respectfully and abundantly without discrimination
and irrespective of gender, ethnicity, age, status, or faith.
Amen.
God,
investigate my life; get
all the facts firsthand. I’m an open book to you; even
from a distance, you know what I’m thinking. You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m
never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before
I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you’re there, then
up ahead and you’re there, too— your
reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful— I
can’t take it all in!
7-12 Is there any place I
can go to avoid your Spirit? to
be out of your sight? If I climb to the sky, you’re there! If
I go underground, you’re there! If I flew on morning’s wings to
the far western horizon, You’d find me in a minute— you’re
already there waiting!
The Message Paraphrase Bible -- Eugene Peterson
We have three people who are near and dear to us, two long-time friends and a family member who are dealing with dementia. All of them are experiencing significant memory loss although for two of them it's decribed as "moderate." They struggle mightily with embarrassment and shame even though everyone around them is supportive. The third person was a vital, active person until a stroke and now she is delusional and tormented. She wants to die. We are doing our best to stay in touch with all of them and have visits planned in the next weeks.
I've offered the multi-session study group God in the Shadows: Dementia and the Spiritual Life in two congregations and it was well attended in both. There were lots of poignant moments and tears as participants shared their experiences with loved ones. The shadows are experienced by those in the throes of dementia and those who are caregivers.
We can pray for all those who are living with dementia and who need the "love is patient and kind" support of family, friends, and communities of faith.
