The Tree of
Life, by Jacques-Richard Chery (Haiti)
For more details, look it up here.
Ezekiel 47:1-12
47 Then he brought me
back to the entrance of the temple; there, water was flowing from below the
threshold of the temple toward the east (for the temple faced east); and the
water was flowing down from below the south end of the threshold of the temple,
south of the altar. 2 Then he brought me out by way
of the north gate, and led me around on the outside to the outer gate that
faces toward the east; and the water was coming out on the south side.
3 Going on eastward with a cord in his hand, the man measured one
thousand cubits, and then led me through the water; and it was
ankle-deep. 4 Again he measured one thousand, and
led me through the water; and it was knee-deep. Again he measured one thousand,
and led me through the water; and it was up to the waist. 5 Again
he measured one thousand, and it was a river that I could not cross, for the
water had risen; it was deep enough to swim in, a river that could not be
crossed. 6 He said to me, “Mortal, have you seen
this?”
Then
he led me back along the bank of the river. 7 As I
came back, I saw on the bank of the river a great many trees on the one side
and on the other. 8 He said to me, “This water
flows toward the eastern region and goes down into the Arabah; and when it
enters the sea, the sea of stagnant waters, the water will become fresh. 9 Wherever
the river goes, every living creature that swarms will live, and there
will be very many fish, once these waters reach there. It will become fresh;
and everything will live where the river goes. 10 People
will stand fishing beside the sea from En-gedi to En-eglaim; it will be a
place for the spreading of nets; its fish will be of a great many kinds, like
the fish of the Great Sea. 11 But its swamps and
marshes will not become fresh; they are to be left for salt. 12 On
the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for
food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear
fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary.
Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.”
Revelation
21:1-6, 22-26; 22:1-5
21 Then I saw a new
heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed
away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy
city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a
bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud
voice from the throne saying,
“See,
the home of God is among mortals. He
will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples, and God
himself will be with them;
4 he will wipe every tear from their
eyes.
Death will be no more; mourning and
crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”
5 And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making
all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and
true.” 6 Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the
Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give
water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.
22 I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God
the Almighty and the Lamb. 23 And the city has no
need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its
lamp is the Lamb. 24 The nations will walk by its
light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. 25 Its
gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. 26 People
will bring into it the glory and the honour of the nations.
22 Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life,
bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through
the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree
of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month;
and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. 3 Nothing
accursed will be found there any more. But the throne of God and of the Lamb
will be in it, and his servants will worship him; 4 they
will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 5 And
there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord
God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.
A
‘cutting’ of tree wisdom (Genny Tunbridge)
Wisdom is like a baobab tree; no one individual can embrace
it [1]
Baobabs trees are native
to Madagascar, mainland Africa, and Australia, and were introduced to the
Caribbean in the colonial era. They can store up to 120,000 litres of water in
their massive bottle-shaped trunks, and they are deciduous, leafless for 9 months
of the year during the dry season to conserve water. The thin, twisty branches
look more like roots, so the baobab is sometimes known as the ‘Upside Down
Tree’. Myths and stories about baobabs abound, many explaining their
appearance. In one, the baobab is always complaining, so God uproots it and
replants it with its head in the earth and roots in the air! Since then the
baobab has stopped complaining and become the most useful tree around.
‘Tree of Life’ is another
name often given to baobabs, reflecting their longevity (some live over 2000
years) but also that they provide almost everything humans need to survive,
including water, shelter, clothing and food. The bark and huge stem are used
for making cloth and rope; the leaves are used as condiments and medicines; the
fruit is edible, rich in vitamin C. The hollow trunks of old baobabs were
sometimes used as tombs for griots (traditional storytellers) – the trees
perhaps believed to absorb and preserve the history and traditions contained in
the griot’s words. Did enslaved Africans on Caribbean plantations draw
inspiration and strength in turn from the wise baobabs, transplanted like them
in a foreign land.
“Knowledge is a light
that is in man; it is the inheritance of all that the ancestors knew and sowed
deep within us, just as the power of the baobab is contained in its seed.”[2]
Introduction to the theme (Al Barrett)
We’ve come again to the turning of the seasons. This week is
the last of our 5-week season focusing on Black History Month and racial
justice. And the inevitable question is, what next? The danger with any
‘themed’ season (just as with our previous season focusing on Creation) is that
we quickly forget – we put it behind us, and turn our attention to something
else. We ‘move on’.
But like Ezekiel in his vision, where we go next is not away
from the river, but deeper into its flow. Next week, and for the four
weeks of November, we’ll be wading further into the waters of remembering: a
remembrance of those we have loved and lost personally, those who have died in
the wars and conflicts of our world, and those saints who have walked the way
of faith before us. And that remembering will be both looking back, to
the past, but also looking forward: ‘remembering the future’, with the
hope-filled promises of God in the words of the prophets of Scripture and the
lives and witnesses of the saints that light our way.
So this week, at the turning again of the seasons, we turn
back to ancient texts that point us towards a future that is still ahead of us:
a universe renewed, ‘a new heaven and a new earth’, a ‘heavenly’ city that is
planted firmly in God’s good earth, a garden city that might be called
‘Jerusalem’, but also ‘Eden’. Here, we’re told of a city whose gates are always
wide open, never shut. A city where whatever glory ‘nations’ used to have, now
pales into insignificance before the glory of God. A city where there is no
more death, no more fearful night-times, no longer any mourning, crying or pain
– a promise for all who have ever grieved, but especially for all who have ever
been oppressed, enslaved, marginalized. A city where there is enough food for
all – and where all have what they need. A city where, as God walks the streets
and climbs the trees alongside her children once again, old wounds are healed –
wounds not just of bodies and minds, but wounds of relationships between
peoples and nations, between humans and our creature-kin, and with the earth
itself. This is a city where the journey of reconciliation has run its course,
and has come to its Source.
But how do we get there from where we are now?
Neither the world we live in, nor the Church of today, are the new Jerusalem.
The water that flows from Ezekiel’s Temple, bringing refreshment, cleansing and
teeming life to the stagnant places of the world, has been dammed up, siphoned
off or poisoned; and what flows out from the Church’s sanctuaries, in the name
of love, is too often polluted with anxious institutional self-interest, the
misuse and abuse of power, or a kind of ‘broadcasting’ that’s indifferent to or
ignorant of the reality of the life of our neighbours. Even when we talk the
language of ‘reconciliation’, it can all too easily become a manipulative word,
that we imagine we can use to engineer change ‘out there’ – to get everyone to
just start being nice to each other – without the discomfort, pain and
costliness of changes in us and the ways we live our lives.
That radical change the Bible calls repentance:
literally, a ‘turning around’. And that, as we’ve seen over the course of this
month, involves some other ‘R’ words too:
REMEMBERING… We’ve been reminded, in this Black History Month, that
history matters. We may not be personally responsible for what happened
in the generations before we were born, but it has left its mark on us
nevertheless – in benefits or disadvantages, in collective wounds and traumas,
in the shaping of attitudes, relationships and structures in the present. We
remember the past, because its legacy lives on in the present – and we need to
continue the work of disentangling what is worth celebrating, from what is in
need of healing.
RECEIVING… We’ve been blessed, over these last months, by being able to read and
hear ‘5th gospel’ reflections on the lived experiences of many
different members of our congregation – and not least during these last few
weeks of Black History Month. Some of those ‘testimonies’ have been hard to
write and speak – and also hard to hear, especially for those of us who are
white to hear of painful experiences of racism in the world, and in the church.
But those stories, those acts of honest sharing, have helped reveal for
us something of the truth, the reality of the world we all share. As the singer
and poet Samantha Lindo puts it, they have been contributions to ‘naming the
water in which [we] swim’.[3]
RELINQUISHING… We’re discovering, I think – especially if we’re white, and
even more so if our identity brings with it other kinds of privilege too (male,
middle-class, non-disabled, etc) – that if we’re to truly hear the stories,
truth and witness of others, if we’re to truly receive the challenges in what
we hear and what we remember, in ways that will change us… then there’s some letting
go that we have to do. Letting go of some of our defences and
defensiveness, letting go of our tendencies to jump in too soon with words or
actions (or to try and have the last word), letting go of our need to be
‘centre stage’, to be ‘needed’, or to be the person that ‘fixes’ things. Some
of us are so used to being listened to, looked to, and holding on to our
positions of comfort and status, that any kind of letting go can feel painful,
costly. But it’s necessary. There’s no way round it.
REPARATION… As we encountered with Zacchaeus last week, if repentance
is to be real, it needs to be more than a change of heart. The way we relate to
each other, the way the systems work, the circumstances of our neighbours need
to start to change too. The water of life, where it has been dammed up, needs
to be unblocked to flow freely. The fruit of the garden, where it has been
hoarded for the few, needs to be shared in ways that mean no one goes hungry.
The wealth that has been built up through the forced labour of slavery, and
through many other injustices in our world, needs to be redistributed. The
power that has been held on one side of dividing lines of race, class and
gender (among others), needs to wash the barriers away. And where we have been
a beneficiary of these things, we need to play our part in ‘putting things
right’ in ways that are real and tangible, and potentially costly – in our
relationships, our communities, our society, our world.
Over the past few weeks, many of us who are white have heard
stories, and been part of conversations, where we’ve felt ashamed of the
history that we’re part of, and the structures we’re entangled in – and where
we’ve felt guilty about what we’ve done, or not done, ourselves. Shame and
guilt, as we saw in the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3, can make us want to
hide, can paralyse us. But as we hear God calling us to come out from behind
the tree, as we come face to face with God and face to face with each other
(which also means coming face to face with ourselves), then we discover
ourselves also called to take the next step on a journey – a journey towards
the new heaven and new earth.
Reflection (Revd Dr Carlton Turner)
Carlton
is an Anglican priest and tutor at The Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical
Theological Education.
These readings, what we call apocalyptic readings, always
fascinate me. In fact, that final scene from the Book of Revelation always
brings me a deep sense of peace and joy. Having grown up in the Caribbean and
having studied the history and legacies of slavery and colonialism, I am
reminded that the ultimate purpose of God isn’t simply justice, but healing and
wholeness: “See,
the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his
peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death
will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be
no more, for the first things have passed away (Rev.
21:3-4).” In this reflection I want us to hold on to this idea and hope of
total healing that seems to be the last word throughout the pages of the Bible,
both Old and New Testaments.
In our passage from Ezekiel 47 we
find a vision of a river flowing from God’s temple. As the scene is described,
we become aware of the dynamic nature of this river. Firstly, there is evidence
in the translation of the text to suggest that the river begins as a trickle from
the temple. It starts small but becomes increasingly deeper and more powerful. The prophet is led through this
water by the angelic being, but the further they go, the deeper the river gets.
It eventually becomes overwhelming and they must return to the riverbank. Then,
the deeper truth is revealed about this water trickling from the temple, that
becomes an overwhelming river; It brings healing and renewal wherever it goes.
In fact, the trees and their leaves that are supplied by this water are for the
healing of the nations.
Nonetheless, it would helpful
if we remember that the beauty and power of this imagery comes in the midst of utter chaos and desolation. Jerusalem
is a city that has no river or stream. Cities were usually built upon rivers
and streams for their sustenance and defence. Ezekiel is writing in the memory
of the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and the first deportation of the
Jews to Babylon. You can inject that famous reggae re-chanting of Psalm 137:1:
“By the rivers of Babylon, where we sat down, and there we wailed, when we
remembered Zion!”
We find the same imagery in Revelation 22:1 – 5. The river
flows from God’s throne and it flows through the Holy city. On either side of
the river is the Tree of Life that is meant for the healing of the nations. But
again, we would do well to remember that this last chapter of the Bible is
speaking such amazing promises in the context of predicting war, destruction,
persecution and death. War breaks out in heaven that reflects the very reality
of war on earth. Every successive human civilisation has had to experience
these absolute horrors, and yet, in the midst of these unspeakable images,
there is the God who comes and abides with His people, and then wipes every
tear from their eyes. And, when we look at the text more deeply, we realise
that it promises, as Isaiah 11 does, a peaceable kingdom: there is neither
hunger, nor pain, nor death; neither predator nor prey; neither chaos nor war;
there is only shalom!
We are now at the end of Black History Month in our
observances and this message of healing is appropriate. The story of Black
people in the world is not an easy one to come to grips with. At the beginning
of the month Al introduced the themes that we have been reflecting on. In it he
points to the long history of Black oppression, marginalisation,
criminalisation, and exclusion, and even genocide. The Transatlantic slave
trade, brutal plantation slavery and colonisation, were undergirded by a
philosophical, theological, and sociological idea that blackness was taboo, and
that black people were beast of burdens, without the right to freedom and
autonomy. The legacies of this are clear for the British context: the Windrush
scandal; the murder of Stephen Lawrence and the resulting Macpherson Report;
statistics within the prisons or mental health institutions that have racial
indications; Covid-19 and its exposure of the racial/ethnic face of ill-health;
and then the aftermath of the public killing of George Floyd! Added to this,
the Church of England is being charged with ‘institutional racism’, with books
such as Ben Lindsay’s We Need to Talk about Race, and Azariah France-Williams’
Ghost Ship interrogating the deep institutional nature of racism in British society, including
the Church. But, beyond all this,
there are the internalised wounds that Black people carry; wounds that have
been handed down, and that undoubtedly will be passed on. The biggest question
remains, where is the healing, where is the shalom?
I believe that deep within the wounds of the Black experience
there is a hopefulness and a healing that resides within our lament. A point I
make in my own writing is that slavery wasn’t an event that happened to Black people, but one that they
survived! They survived through their indigenous religious and cultural
observances such as their music, their religious traditions, their proverbs and
their story telling, and their ingenuity and creativity. It is fair to say that within the very wounds of
slavery, anti-Africanness, and racism, Black people also have a deep reservoir
of sacred power, or creative spirituality, that surges to the surface
coming out in Reggae, in Soca, in Gospel Music, in pop music, in carnival, in
Pentecostal worship, and even in the alternative spirituality of the Rastafari.
What I’m suggesting is that healing for Black people comes in the midst of
their pain. These means of healing above have been so powerful that Church and
society have often worked hard to criticise or demonise them.
As we move into another month and another observance, I
encourage us to remember the need for healing, and the potent forms of healing
that Black culture possesses. Perhaps, these ways of being, acting and seeing
the world will not only be of benefit for Black people, but for all people.
They will be, in a way, like the deepening River of Life, or the Tree of Life;
they are for the healing of the nations, the healing of all people. Let’s end
with the deep lament within Psalm 137 that the African Caribbean experience
brings alive for us:
By the rivers of Babylon,
there we sat down
Yeah, we wept, when we remembered Zion
There the wicked
Carried us away in captivity
Requiring of us a song
Now how shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?
Let the words of our
mouth and the meditation of our heart
Be acceptable in thy sight here tonight
By the rivers of
Babylon, there we sat down
Yeah, we wept, when we remembered Zion…
(Lyrics by Boney M)
Reflection (Sybil Gilbert)
I was born in Kingston Hospital. All my life I was the
weakling of the family. I spent so many times in hospital, if anyone mentioned
the word I would have a panic attack. My first encounter with hospital was when
I was a baby in a cot. My cot was looking out of the window. It was late at
night, I could hear a noise and saw nurses or people wheeling trollies past my
window. The worst thing the nurse could do was to move my cot away. I was so
afraid. It was the middle of the night, and no one would explain to a curious
child what was going on. Some years later a cousin of mine explained that there
was an epidemic and several children had died. I asked him to take me to the
morgue. I wanted to know what happened when you died.
My grandmother’s was the first funeral I can remember
attending. My young cousin who was a ‘towny’ did not want his feet getting
dirty so he sat on my shoulder the whole time. I can remember her coffin was
made in the village, it was lined in purple, beautiful velvet. My gran-mom
smoked a pipe. My cousin Beverley said that now Grandma had died the pipe was
hers. She decided to put some dried yam leaves and lit the pipe. There was an
outside toilet, a small one for the children. It was a good thing she sat on
the child one or else she would have fallen in the pit. It took days to sober
her up! Her parents, my favourite uncle Leslie and Aunt Chris, were very cross.
But they could not help laughing. It was the only time I had rabbit to eat and
never again. Grandma is buried at the back of her home. It was a family plot.
The land was given to her and the family by my grandfather who was a Jew. They
have 5 children but never married.
A story my cousin told me of my grandmother taking him to
meet my grandfather, and coming home gave him a tot of something before putting
him to bed. My grandma was a force to be reckoned with. She was strong. A
district midwife. Someone described her as only looking after poor people. I
admire her because from her there is a list of midwives starting with my
mother, my niece and several others in the caring profession.
In 1956 I met my grandfather for the first time. It was a GCE
year, I was reading the book The 39 Steps. My favourite uncle took me to
see and meet my grandfather. He took me but not my sister, who looked like my
dad (my mum had married a black man). My grandfather said ‘you look like your
mother, come closer and sit by me’. Then he said a strange thing. ‘Your mother
was my favourite daughter, but I disowned her because she married a black man.’
I was so shocked I wanted to leave but my uncle said we could not leave, so we
spent another few days there. My uncle saw how upset I was, so he took us to
Downs River Fall to cheer us up. I never saw my grandfather again, although he
left me something in his will. My father was just as racist as my grandfather.
He had his own dry-cleaning business when he worked for the hotel, and the
white people, they paid; his friends did not pay, they were always paying
tomorrow.
The school I attended was a girls school with children from
America and Jamaica. We mixed very well. Yet when children became grown ups
life changed. Children mix together, they play together, then something
changes. We start to notice the colour of skin, who is rich or poor. God asked
us to share the wealth and bounty he gave us. Yet we don’t. So many refugees
have died trying to seek a better life. Do we see them as God’s people, or just
spongers? Why should we have to share with them? The world has become very
selfish. Coronavirus this year 2020, so many people were put in isolation. The
whole of God’s world was affected. For the first time churches, schools,
offices, etc were closed. We became afraid. Wondering if there was a cure or a
vaccine that could save lives. So far this has not happened. For a short time
we called it a world epidemic.
Lord, you
care for us, you gave us all we need. You ask us to look after the sick, feed
the hungry and homeless. Grant us Lord the wisdom to share all your bountiful
gifts, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Reflection (Gloria Smith)
On reading the two bible
passages and Carlton’s reflection I am struck by the hope that is expressed in
all three. Not the kind of hope that the secular world believes in but
Christian hope that trusts that God is faithful, will never abandon us, and in
the end brings healing. I am always in awe of hope in the midst of destruction,
oppression and desolation – and this hope has been a recurring theme over the
last few weeks, even in the midst of some truly awful personal experiences.
I grew up in inner city
Winson Green in the ‘60s and I’m ashamed to say I lived in a home where racism
was commonplace. It was a strange world, because at school there were people
from many different cultures and from what I am able to remember it felt like
at school everyone was treated equally. That was my perception and maybe my
best friend Gloria Peters, an adopted black Caribbean girl, or Ranjit, a young
Sikh boy may have felt differently. But to me it felt different, more inclusive
than home.
Throughout my teaching
career, I have worked in inner city schools where the children were
predominantly from Pakistani/Muslims families. It took me a while to begin to
understand the issues they encountered, but it was made really clear when
taking the children out on trips. There would be strange looks and whispers
from schools with predominantly white children, and on more than one occasion I
felt it important to speak to other teachers about the way both children and
staff were responding.
For the most part, our
children really wanted to learn and we as teachers were given much respect by
parents simply for teaching their children. The gratitude was at times
overwhelming and it made me realise how important education can be. However on
reflecting now, it has also made me realise that although I was in the minority
because of my skin colour I was never ignored or treated negatively, which I
now understand is how my friends of colour often feel treated. I realise now how much was down to my
whiteness because Muslim teachers had far more difficult experiences when they
were perceived as not being as capable, than their white colleagues, even
within their own culture. They had to be outstanding to be acknowledged as half
decent. ‘White privilege’ is so damaging to people of colour.
In the final term of Year
1 at Queens theological college I learnt we would be doing a Black Theology module. I felt excited
because I felt I wasn’t racist and would enjoy the lectures. However, the
lectures and lecturers challenged that perception. At first I struggled with a
black lecturer who on occasions I felt at the time was oversensitive. She began
by telling us we would feel uncomfortable and would be challenged and that made
me feel defensive straightaway. I’m not keen on being told how I will feel! At
the time some other white students felt the same and it seemed to legitimise
our feelings – which can be quite dangerous – but looking back I think she was
simply preparing us for difficult topics that were to come. So now I ask myself
– So who really was feeling
oversensitive? The lecturers were really generous in sharing their own
stories, and as I read more and was prepared to really listen I got to
understand where they were coming from and what invaluable lessons we were
learning.
This is why I
passionately believe education to be so important in the healing of the nations.
At its best it gives opportunities for understanding other points of
view in a safe environment. It allows people to really hear what is being said
about experiences. But it is also important and necessary for history to be
told from the perspectives of all involved. British history has for far too
long been told from the white person’s perspective, the victors, the powerful.
Now more than ever children and adults too need to hear it from the point of
view of the powerless, the marginalised, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the
slave.
My hope is for that time
when all white people can really see things from the perspective of people of
colour and are prepared to stand alongside, acknowledge and make amends for the
past and move forward together. Then that heavenly vision in Revelation has a
chance of being realised.
Questions for reflection / discussion
As I read / listened to the
readings and reflections for this week…
·
what
did I notice, or what particularly stood out for me?
·
what
did they make me wonder, or what questions am I pondering?
·
what
have they helped me realise?
·
is there anything I want to do or
change in the light of this week's topic?
An Act of Commitment to the Work of Racial Justice:
People of
God, we stand in the line
of Moses, the prophets and the Christ,
crying out for justice and peace.
God calls us to be a people of reconciliation,
loving a world that is hungry, hurting and divided.
Courageous people have taken the risk
of standing up and speaking out
with those who have been pushed to the edges.
This work involves risking ourselves
for the sake of God’s love,
moving beyond ourselves
in order to discover and embrace Christ in one another.
We are all called to the work and ministry
of justice and reconciliation.
Therefore
let us join together
with people of faith and no faith throughout the world,
in committing ourselves today to racial justice:
I do.
· Do you support justice, equity and compassion in human relations, and liberation and flourishing for every person?
I do.
· Do you affirm that white privilege is unfair and harmful to those who have it and to those who do not?
I do.
· Do you affirm that white privilege and the culture of white supremacy which infest our nation and church must be dismantled?
I do.
Therefore, from this day forward:
· Will you strive daily to understand white privilege and white supremacy and how their existence benefits those among us who are white?I will.
· Will you commit to help transform our church culture to one that is actively engaged in seeking racial justice and equity for everyone?
I will.
· Will you make a greater effort to treat all people with the same respect that you expect to receive?
I will.
· Will you commit to developing the courage to live your beliefs and values of racial justice and equity?
I will.
· Will you strive daily to eliminate racial prejudice from your thoughts and actions so that we can better promote the racial justice efforts of our church?
I will.
· Will you renew and honour this pledge daily, knowing that out church, our community, our nation and our world will be better places because of our efforts?
I will.
[‘Racial Equity Pledge’, by First Unitarian Church of
Dallas, Texas;
adapted by St Francis Xavier Church, New York & Fr Robert Thompson]
Activities
/ conversation-starters with young (and not-so-young!) people
- In
today’s reading, we read: “the leaves of the trees are for the healing of
the nations.” Gather some leaves. Try to find as many different sizes,
shapes and colours as you can. As you hold each leaf, think of a person,
place or situation which needs healing, and hold them before God in
prayer. Let go of your leaf as a sign of handing over that situation to
God for healing.
- In
both our readings today, we read about the “river of life”. Find somewhere
you can put your hand into flowing water. If you can, use a river or
stream, but if you can’t get to one then putting your hand under a tap, or
asking someone to pour water over your hand would also work. What do you
notice about the feeling of water flowing over you? How does it make you
feel? I wonder what it life-giving about flowing water? I wonder what
situations you know of that need new life – in your own life, your
community, the church?
- Our
reading from Revelation includes a vision of the heavenly city as
somewhere where “death will be
no more; mourning and
crying and pain will be no more”. What other things do you think will be
‘no more’ in heavenly city? What would the perfect city be like? Write a
description and/or draw a picture.
[1] West
African proverb
[2] Tierno
Bokar, a Sufi Muslim who lived in Mali and was known as the Sage of
Bandiagara in the first half of the 20th century.
[3] Look up https://www.samanthalindo.com/blog-2/naming-the-water for a YouTube video of Samantha Lindo performing this song.
No comments:
Post a Comment