Islands of Peace

Talking with you all after church on Sundays, in small groups and at community dinner, I’ve been hearing about a communal, yet individual, experience. With different expressions, most of us are feeling deeply unsettled these days. Anxious, afraid, angry. Disappointed, disillusioned, worried. Our own lives and the lives of people we care about, our livelihoods, the democratic principles once pronounced with the vigor of spiritual principles representing a belief in the inherent worth and dignity – and rights – of every human being, are under attack. This is a time of disregulation, individually and collectively, with different expressions for each of us.

Talking to a friend yesterday, I shared that one of the ways this is showing up for me is that I’ve been having trouble sleeping more often than I’m used to. Huh, she said, what have you done before that helps? We went over all the basic sleep hygiene stuff: no screens for a half an hour before bed and chamomile tea, and then she hit me with the real zinger. “I know you have a spiritual practice you do every morning, what if there was a spiritual practice you did at night before bed, too?” You’d think that as a minister, this idea would have occurred to me already, but it hadn’t. 

When we are out of sorts, in times of trauma or grief we forget what we already know, and friendship, a faith community with practices and traditions and a legacy of living in alignment with our shared values during hard times, can help us find and refind our way. Together, we can help each other remember what we already know about how to survive and thrive and we can steady ourselves and each other, finding ways to sing and celebrate in the midst of the storms. 

In the spirit of my friend’s wisdom, let me remind you, church is not just here on Sundays (though we are here every Sunday!). Maybe this is a time when you, too, need spiritual practice more than once a day, and church more than once a week. Maybe this is a time when doubling down on connection and belonging is what you need. Maybe being reminded of what you already know—and what you still have to learn—is something you need more often. Maybe remembering your part in something bigger than yourself could settle and sustain and strengthen you. What if this is a time to remember and nurture and visit the island of peace within your own soul more than every now and then? 

For my part, I’ll be reading from the book, Meditations of the Heart, by Howard Thurman each night before bed. Thurman’s theology of radical nonviolence shaped a generation of civil rights activists. When he tells me across the generations, that “There is within each of us the possibility of an Island of Peace within one’s own soul.” When he tells me that “No one is free from the peculiar pressures of life. Each of us must deal with the evil aspects of living: with injustices inflicted upon us, and injustices we wittingly or unwittingly inflict on others. We are all caught in the profound conflicts of our weaknesses and strengths.” When he tells me that “The only hope for surcease, the only possibility of stability, is to establish an Island of Peace within one’s own soul.” I believe him. 

Where are the islands of peace for you? Is church one of them? And how can you visit that island of peace a little—or a lot—more often in these days?

See you in church,

Rev. Jen