Sacred Connections: Transitions
Many of us do not look forward to change or transitions. We may take comfort in the familiar and have some concern about what might be new or different. I like to think of myself as flexible, ready to try new things, and then I see how quickly my personal myth can be challenged by virtually any form of new technology. Yesterday though, I felt totally captivated as I had glimpses of three different transitions and the sense of loss and gift in each.
The first glimpse was during a visit to our Redeemer sanctuary for a sound check. We wanted to see how our microphones would work over our masks in anticipation of the live stream we hope to begin mid-August. Work had already been done to prepare the sanctuary space, including temporary removal of some upfront seating and the altar rail, and there were plans for some additional shifts in seating in the chancel. Standing there, I knew what I have missed most in this space are the sacred connections with the people in this community and our witnessing together our connections with the divine. Yet, there was also such a gift in seeing this space in transition, still beautiful and welcoming, holding both our longing to return and our deepest commitment to do so thoughtfully and safely.
The second transition showed up in a text from my niece, “She’s on the road!”, quickly followed by a photo of her hugging her Mom. My sister-in-law had suffered a significant stroke a month ago and had been totally isolated from family and friends during her first weeks of rehab. She was now being transported out of state to a rehab facility in her son’s hometown as she continues her recovery. Her son will be able to visit her there. As many of us know, non-Covid-19 related conditions have been mightily impacted by quarantines and strains on usual medical resources; direct access to family and friends is at best limited if permitted at all. A mere two months ago, my sister-in-law was firmly entrenched in her home, with no thoughts of relocation, and then, in a moment everything changed. There is sadness in her separation from family, friends and her church community where she has lived for over fifty years. Yet, this transition is also a reflection of the deep love of family and the hope that with God’s help, further healing will come.
The third transition I observed yesterday was related to the memorial service for Congressman John Lewis who died two weeks earlier. Former presidents, members of congress and his congressional staff, leaders in the civil rights movement, family and friends all spoke of a man who was humble and kind, who spoke truth to power fearlessly, and walked in peaceful protest with love, even in the face of violence and hatred. Their words of love and tribute described a man who lived his faith as he served his country, who risked his life for justice, as he embodied Jesus’ call to love our neighbor as ourselves. Many tears were shared too. The last scene of the live coverage showed the military honor guard placing John Lewis’ flag draped casket into a hearse just before it drove away.
A funeral, coffin, hearse are strong images of transition, yet, for me, the most profound transition was in the editorial John Lewis had written two days before his death and had given to The New York Times to publish on the day of his funeral. Even in facing death, John Lewis’ focus was on inspiring, encouraging and urging on the next generation. He wrote: “I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe...walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.” Yes, there were many tears of grief at his death, and there was also such immeasurable gratitude for his faithful, purposeful, inspiring, love filled life.
Transitions have become a notable way of life during this time, some by our choice, and many seemingly beyond our control. Many of the transitions we encounter also involve our connections with people in our lives. In these challenging times, it may be tempting to numb a little, and hold the world at bay. But we can also allow ourselves to lean in at times and understand our feelings of loss while catching a glimpse of the gifts in what is possible now. We may need to loosen our grasp on our comfort, to allow space for something new.
