A Spiritual Posture: Morning and Mourning

 One day this past week, as I was coming across the Commons, the sky was a spectacular array of clouds. Clouds of all kinds, colours, shapes, dimensions. As one turned 360 degrees it was like multiple snapshots of different days and their clouds put together side-by-side. It was beautiful and ominous. It was a full spectrum between a contrast of dense charcoal clouds, accumulating and moving quickly, and wispy feather clouds floating in bright blue sky. Another day, a windy day, in the late afternoon, all of a sudden it was still, the sky was heavy with blue-grey cloud and the sun shone through; golden. There was a full rainbow and the air was momentarily magical, before all was lost in fog.

For those of you who are sky watchers, this year has been one filled with the dancing of spectacularly brilliant Northern Lights. This was also a year of super moons: in August a Blue Moon, in Sept a Super Harvest Moon with a partial lunar eclipse, in Oct a Super hunter’s Moon, and this past Friday a Super Beaver Moon. The Beaver moon is called such because beavers are settling into their lodges for the winter. An alternate name is mourning (as in grieving) moon, as it is the last full moon before the Winter Solstice.

 

As we come to the end of the church year, texts draw our attention to the skies and the heavens. The readings are apocalyptic and speak about the end of time and beginning of time, the coming of Messiah, God’s justice and kindom. Apocalyptic texts are bigger than one life, bigger than one generation, bigger than human history.

We heard this morning from Daniel: Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. – Dn. 12: 3

And from Mark: When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. Mk13: 7

Jesus talks with the disciples about signs that will happen within 40 years of his speaking. The group is gathered with a view of the Temple, Jesus predicts the building’s destruction. The Temple has been reconstructed and fortified by Herod the Great. It has been a capital building project for 46 years and is magnificent. An older Temple expanded and newly walled and fortified in Roman ashlar blocks. Two generations of tradespeople have worked on the latest additions to the building. It is unimaginable to the disciples that this strong colossal structure will be destroyed.  

It is not so unfathomable today. News reels are inundated with rubble of crumpled buildings and devastated cityscapes in the aftermath of bombs and missiles. After hundreds of generations of tradespeople and faithful forebears – this many years after Jesus’ conversation with the disciples overlooking the Temple- the words are as relevant and as immediate to us: When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come.

A little farther on in chapter 13 of Mark, Mark writes:

But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heaven will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven. Mk. 13: 24-27

 

Using images from Prophets like Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Joel, Apocalyptic texts in the Bible -Daniel, Revelation, and this snippet in Mark- go beyond Jesus’ conversation of the destruction of the colossal Temple structure. The images are vast, big, out of human control – apocalypse is played out in the skies with sun, moon, stars, clouds, and winds.

Through November we have been singing, My Lord What a Morning, as our post-communion canticle. The lyrics of the hymn are an expression of apocalyptic texts and appropriate as we contemplate the end of time, beginning of time, and Christ’s coming. Key phrases of the hymn include:

My Lord what a morning … when the stars begin to fall… You will hear the trumpet sound to wake the nations underground … Looking to my God’s right hand when the stars begin to fall.

 

I learned something very interesting about this hymn. As we sing it, we sing my Lord what a morning – morning as in the break of day, when the sun rises. In the mid-1800s there are publications of the hymn that used the word mourning - as in to feel or express great sadness, deep sorrow as a response to loss; an expression of grief. Both words, morning -as in daybreak, and mourning- as in an expression of grief- were common in the hymn’s singing. The use of words makes me think about my reaction to the sky full of different clouds, simultaneously beautiful and ominous. Hymn commentators have suggested how accurate both spellings of morning/mourning are. In Christ’s coming there is new hope dawning and a sadness as the old world falls apart. When God’s promise of justice finally arrives there is both dread and awe.

On the theme of this hymn, African American Theologian and civil rights leader Howard Thurman wrote: “the judgement is personal and cosmic so that even the rocks and the mountains, the stars, and the sea, are all involved in so profound a process.”

 

The redeeming of the world, God’s justice, the making of all things new, the coming of Christ is so profound a process that creation and the universe are involved. I would ask you to try to wrap your heads around that, but it is way beyond us. For today, let us simply reflect on morning hope and mourning tears.

Over the years I have read stories of people imprisoned in deplorable places who found hope by looking out a tiny cell window and watching the freedom of the sky, the movement of clouds, the twinkling of stars, the rhythmic passing of night and day; similar stories of those who are exiled, under house arrest, prisoners of war, displaced, lost – who look to the skies for hope, guidance, assurance.

Considering that apocalyptic texts always take to the skies – I wonder if turning our gaze to the skies might be a spiritual practice for times of war and rumours of war, to calm our natural instincts of being alarmed; to connect us to generations of other stargazers and to bathe us in awe and ground us in Mystery. I have heard members of the congregation talk about the joy of leaving the city lights behind and marveling at the beauty of the stars from the countryside; I have seen your pictures on Facebook of rainbows and Northern Lights; I have heard others talk about cloud formations during the day, and the haze that can accompany full moons. Who of us has not been wowed or awed by something magnificent in the skies?

On those days when you find yourself anxious, overwhelmed, alone, or lost, gaze up. The prophets directed people to the skies before apocalyptic literature, the prophets taking a long view of history. The skies fill humans with an awe and wonder, beyond understanding, further than we can imagine (even with modern telescopes, satellites, and rovers). And as part of the spiritual posture as we turn to the skies, waiting for Christ’s return, may we sing my Lord what a morning – as in dawn of hope; and my Lord what a morning – as in tears for that which comes to an end.

 

Cloud-Mover,

We are coming to the end of the church year.

There have been highs and lows. We have bumped and stretched; accumulated and thinned.

Blow us to open skies; air out our brains, relax our bodies, free our spirits and imaginations. For now, make our billows of thoughts and worries cease.

Blanket us in the cloud of mystery ---to see visions, to dream holy dreams; to awake with inspired innovation, and billowing hope.

Uplifted and cushioned in your power – we let go of ourselves – having faith that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Amen.