Layer upon layer of low clouds dipped down in whispery greeting yesterday but no rain. Today, the cloud cover was even lower, moving among the hillside trees, this time with rain, gentle to the touch, but after 50 minutes in it, determined walker that I am, my sweatshirt and sweatpants were soaked through and I was glad to be home and dry once more. Now, with a cup of hot tea in hand, i’m ready to greet any readers with today’s journal entry. I want to start by making sure you have a chance to look at and, perhaps even try, my most recent recipe for healthy breakfast muffins. (See the Baking section elsewhere on this website). As with anything I cook, it has to taste good. I have been pleased to discover that my “test kitchen” – the church members who come downstairs after the worship service for coffee and my muffins – report no difference between my older-style muffins with grain flours, orange juice and cane sugar and my New Era ones with nut flours, nut milk and calorie-less sweetener. What has remained consistent are the blueberries and chocolate chips although here again, i have substituted stevia-sweetened chocolate chips for the cane sugar-sweetened ones. The idea here is to reduce the intake of sugar into my body, our bodies, knowing from medical research now how devastating sugar is to our health. The rise in diabetes and pre-diabetes in only one among many examples of the problem.
Sunday, yesterday, at the little Methodist church I attend, it was one of those “Fifth” Sundays, a time when many Methodist churches elect to do something different. We decided to focus on singing favorite hymns and over the last two weeks established a list of the top ten favorites. I’ve never had much exposure to the older hymns and what exposure I have had, I’ve been turned off by, due to the message, often dark, loaded down with sin and damnation. I’m discovering now some beautiful music in the Methodist hymnbook, and even though the theology often turns me off, the melody keeps me there, engaged and sometimes inspired. “Holy, Holy, Holy” one of the hymns I did grow up with, and one of my favorites for its simplicity and force was ranked #10. Everyone’s favorite, “Amazing Grace” was ranked #4 with “The Lord of the Dance” a close #3 in popularity and my personal favorite, the lyrics in this case appeal to me, the image of the Lord dancing…I danced for the scribe and the Pharisee but they would not dance, they would not follow me/ I danced for the fishermen, for James and John, they came to me and the dance went on…Another close favorite, #2 on the Church chart, is one I actually remember singing many times, particularly at summer camp at dawn, sitting on a hillside as the sun slowly appears, several hundred young voices pitching in… I come to the Garden Alone/ while the dew is still on the roses/ and the voice I hear falling on my ear/ the Son of God discloses/ And he walks with me, and he talks with me/ and he tells me I am his own/and the joy we share as we tarry there/ none other has ever known. What surprised me was the #1 selection by the majority of the congregation but It’s no wonder. On Eagle’s Wings has been sung by many if not most popular vocalists: And God will raise you up on eagle’s wings/ bear you on the breath of dawn/ make you shine like the sun/ and hold you in the palm of God’s hand. So you see, a joyful day at church, full of song topped off by one choir member singing, without accompaniment, The Lord’s Prayer from the back of the sanctuary, bringing us all to our knees.
It seemed entirely appropriate that in the midst of a sanctuary filled with music, we should have the opportunity to witness the baptism of an infant, only the second infant baptism in the church in the last ten years. I was honored to participate in the baptism by reading a Variation on a Theme by Rilke by Denise Levertov. The poem reads: A certain day became a presence to me; there it was, confronting me – a sky, air, light; a being/ And before it started to descend from the height of noon/ it leaned over and struck my shoulder as if with the flat of a sword,/ granting me honor and a task/ the day’s blow rang out, metallic – or it was I, a bell awakened/ and what i heard was my whole self/ saying and singing what it knew: I can. It led me to think, once again, about the miracle of birth. I’ve been constantly amazed at the gospel writer’s insistence on seeing Jesus’ birth as a miracle – without sexual union – when the entire process of procreation is such a miracle in its own right, part of the creator’s intricate plan, sperm and egg uniting, splitting into cells, forming a fetus and in nine months, a fully-formed child, the very image of God. It was, as I say, a great morning to be alive, to celebrate a miracle together.
