If you've been with us a while, you know about our cat situation. Our two cats couldn't seem to work things out, so we kept them separated for over three months. Then we just couldn't stand it and decided to try again. And now, this very minute, they are both lying in the sun. They are four feet apart. They are separated by an open door, and I suspect that without the door they wouldn't be doing this, but a few days ago they wouldn't have done it at all. It seems that the sun is more powerful than their fear.
Oh - was that a metaphor? Of course.
Yesterday was Pentecost. I celebrated by serving at two different - very different - churches in New Jersey. Three services, two churches. The first is a lovely suburban, white church, with a children's choir and a big complex and orderly services. The second is at the top of the state, with a congregation mostly of Lenape Native Americans, with very few resources. Their service was more disorganized because I forgot to bring the bulletins from the first church, and the organist was a volunteer who had the wrong numbers for a hymn. We were a mess.
But the Spirit was powerful there. It was present in both places, but in its different guises. In the first church it was orderly and gentle. In the second it was fluid, blowing the chaos into peace.
In the meantime, my Sister Elizabeth had foot surgery on Friday, so she is stuck in a chair for a while. Pentecost for me was full of driving and moving. For her it was too quiet, separated from the larger community of worship. But the Spirit came anyway. And today it is bringing peace to our cats, and to the world.
May it bring peace to you, and to those you live and serve with, every day of your life.
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