[VIDEO] In the Ruins
A man sits on the rubble—
not just in the rubble, but on the pile
of what remains. No people
in the bombed-out houses.
No dogs. No birds. Just ragged hunks
of concrete and loss. And on his perch
he is playing an instrument constructed
of what is left—an olive oil can, a broom handle,
a bowed stick and strings. It sounds
exactly as it is supposed to sound.
The instrument cries, but the man sings.
Because sometimes loss is deeper than tears.
Because sometimes grief is resistance.
Because, somewhere down the very long road,
music is stronger than bombs.
Dedicated to S.K.
https://www.facebook.com/xendanweb/videos/10153270204871795/
VIDEO: “ت ناوازەیە” by Xendan
PHOTO: “Rubble litters the street in the main souk or market area of Maraat al-Numan, Syria” by Freedom House is licensed under CC BY 2.0
Pancakes and Process Theology
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Have you ever had to wake somebody up in the morning?
There are lots of ways to do it. In our house, where simply saying “Time to get up!” is never enough, we’ve developed…alternative strategies. My favorite is singing camp songs: “Rise and shine and give God your glory, glory!”
Born and Reborn Again
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(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing
any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
Night of Blood and Fire
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My father was coming to visit for the first time in 14 years. He met my older son ten years ago in Philadelphia. He had never met my 11 year old. It would take a book to tell all the reasons for the distance between us. It is enough to say I was seized up with dread and going in circles strategizing about how to handle it. My son, now 14, is going North to school. He will be an hour from my father, and I am determined that my son will not be hurt by his grandfather’s lack of family skills. My father and his wife and their two children, the ages of my two children, were coming for a short visit. One afternoon, one supper.
The End Is Not Near
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It was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women who told the disciples [of the resurrection], but these words appeared to the disciples as nonsense, and they would not believe them. Bending over, [Peter] saw the strips of linen lying by themselves and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened. [Luke 24]
From Your Minister
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When I was in my twenties, so many possibilities about what life might hold for me beckoned from so many directions that the upshot was I was fairly immobilized. Many futures were possible, but none of them called my name. Then one day, I stopped into a book-store and picked up a book.
Everything is Waiting for You
Finding Life in the Land of Death
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If I were trying to develop and deliver a talk about the history of Unitarian Universalist opposition to war and war-making institutions, I could have hammered this out and gone right back to dipping peppermint Jo Jo’s in milk and watching Dr. Who on Netflix. I mean, we are UUs: we don’t blindly obey, we question. We don’t use our hands to hurt, we use our hands to create and heal. We don’t seek and destroy, we search and explore. We only march if we’re carrying tubas or protest signs, and our hair and habits of dress are very far out of regulation. Unitarian is to Military as Peace is to Conflict, as Compassion is to Aggression, as Eros is to Thanatos. But that wasn’t the task my minister gave me.
Dancing into the Heart of God
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Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi was born in 1207 in Afghanistan, which was then within the Persian empire. While still a child he fled to Turkey, along with his whole family, when the Mongols invaded their land. Read more →
Annual Meeting
The CLF Annual Meeting will be held on June 27, 2013 at 6:00PM Eastern Time
