Tomorrow night, Saturday, a question will be asked by the youngest child present at dinner: “Why is this night different from other nights?”
The child asks the same question that has been asked for centuries by Jewish people in times of despair, in times of joy, in times of knowing, in times of unknowing. Tomorrow night is very special for adherents of the Jewish faith as it is when the celebration of Passover begins. And it begins with a Seder – a special meal – with various rituals like the question: “Why is this night different from other nights?” “Ma nishtanah ha-laylah ha-ze mi kol ha-leylot?”
The same child asks the Four Questions which emerge from that first question. Then each of the answers to those questions explains why things are done differently that night: * Why is there no leavened bread, only matzoh (unleavened flatbread)? * Why are only bitter herbs eaten this night? * Why are the vegetables dipped twice, not once, in salt water? * Why is eating done, reclining on one elbow?
Each year on Passover, the same answers come. * Matzoh – because there was no time for the dough to rise * Bitter herbs – as a reminder of the bitterness of slavery * Vegetables dipped in twice – as a reminder of tears shed * Eating while reclining on one elbow – to symbolize freedom.
While I am not of the Jewish faith, I have often been intrigued by this tradition and wondered if Passover can offer lessons to people of other faiths – to those of no particular religious faith. And, if so, what could those lessons be?” And over time, some answers began to emerge.
First – we can learn to ask questions.
I love the tradition of having a child begin the Passover Seder with a question. Children love to ask questions (oh wow, do they ever!), but as we grow older, many stop asking questions and take what others believe to be their truth. Not asking questions has sometimes led to broken relationships, illness, political uncertainty and war. Why don’t we ask more questions? Curiosity is a wonderful attribute!
When I had questions of the teachers at the church my family attended, I heard the same response, over and over again: “All answers are in our books. Look – the answers are there.” I did look, over and over, but I didn’t see answers. What I saw, was more questions. But every time I had a question, the response was the same – year after year, after year.
When I was fifteen, I spoke with my parents, telling them that I wanted to leave that church. “Why?” they asked. I told them that not only wasn’t I finding the answers I was seeking in the two books that undergirded that faith, I was not being allowed to question – at all.
My parents told me in later years that when they heard me say that I believed I had been given a brain to use, and that because I wasn’t allowed to question anything in the church beyond what was in one of the two official books, I was refusing a gift (my intellect) and I couldn’t believe God wanted me to refuse that gift but use it and ask questions and more questions, after talking it over, they agreed, and I was given permission to leave that church – and religion. Even though my mother continued as a leader in that church for many years afterward, neither she nor my father expected me to be part of it. How blessed I was to have them both as parents – parents who invited conversation — who let me “think for myself.”
I have never stopped asking questions. I hope I never will. My sense of curiosity and of asking questions has led me on an exciting – and challenging – journey. I ask questions about religion, history, the Bible, politics, God, the environment, the war in Ukraine, the situation in the Middle East, the situation in the United States, and now here in Canada as well as in Panama and Greenland.
And, I ask questions of myself. I ask questions to political leaders, religious leaders, social media journalists. Sometimes I get answers. Sometimes my questions lead me to more questions. And sometimes, my questions lead me to answers. But without the questions …
So, I love the Passover tradition of having a child ask the question.
Second – we can learn to face life’s challenges.
The Christian Season of Lent and the Jewish observance of Passover speak of people long ago who faced challenges. As difficult as they were then, those challenges were profound teachers.
Today, each of us faces challenges in our lives. As difficult as they are for us, they too can be profound teachers. Facing challenge is not always easy, but it can be a profound way to learn about life, ourselves, God, this world where we live.
Third – we can learn to take action.
The Israelites left Egypt in such haste that they could not wait for their bread dough to rise, so they took action with the dough they had, and created unleavened bread – the matzoh – which sustained them. Action! The life and story of Jesus in Christian belief, is a motivator of action of a literal understanding of ‘love of neighbour’ by those who followed the man Jesus. That story continues to motivate people today into ‘love of neighbour’ … in advocacy, action and justice-seeking.
Fourth – we can learn to share.
Whether it’s food for the body with a meal – or food for the soul with wisdom – the story of a wide table open to all at a Passover Seder … and for those who follow the story of Jesus – the sharing of loaves and fishes … can be gentle reminders of the importance of sharing what we have with others.
Fifth – we can learn to be grateful.
Many religious teachings undergird the importance of having an attitude of gratitude and not take our precious life for granted. May we be willing to learn from other religions and other peoples.
To those who follow the path of Judaism, may the miracle of Passover live in your hearts forever. Chag Pesach Sameach!
For forty days and forty nights, every year, millions of people around the world are involved in sombre reflection and Lenten observance in something called the Season of Lent.
Last and this year, Lent has been a time of darkness in Ukraine, Afghanistan, Ethiopia, Palestine, Iraq, Yemen, Israel, Syria, Somalia, Libya, the Central African Republic, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Myanmar, Colombia, Mali – and who would have thought it, but Canada, Panama, Greenland, the United States too.
While it would be lovely to bypass the Season of Lent, it has its place in the circle of life. And not just for those who observe the Season of Lent as a religious focus. Lent can serve as a reminder that not everything in the world (or in people’s lives) is happy or cheery or going well.
There is darkness in situations that can personally envelope people in a shroud of negativity. An unknown author wrote “If only our eyes saw souls instead of bodies,” and it echoes the cry of many whose value in society seems to be based on others ‘seeing’ them through the lens of financial status, ability, weight, skin colour, age, political belief, gender, sexuality, religion, etc., rather than ‘seeing them’ through the lens of the soul.
What a different world it would be if, instead of talking negatively, criticizing, nagging, finding fault, putting others down (not to mention ourselves), we talked about blessings, spoke about the goodness that ‘is’, and expressed gratitude more than we express frustration, criticism.
Perhaps if this were the focus, it might be easier to see people as souls, and not as unemployed, homeless, disabled, addicted, uneducated, a particular race or colour or religion or age or political belief or financial status etc. By adopting such a focus, it could be easier to relate to ‘the other’ as a person of worth, rather than ignore, pity, judge, bully, ridicule or hate them. It could be easier to see beauty – in others, in our world, within ourselves.
The Season of Lent invites us to metanoia – ‘turn around and focus on a change of heart.’ Some interpret that as ‘repentence.’ While I see merit in such interpretation, my way of encountering the Season of Lent is to focus on change … to change my heart – about other people – the future – myself – and ask “How can I let light in and truly see?”
Lent also has a reputation of being a time to ‘give-up’ (‘fast’-from) chocolate, desserts, social media, etc. I don’t do that. My focus is not on “giving up” but on “letting-in.”
While, I am being aware of the 40 days of Lent, I am not “giving up” something for Lent. And I am not focusing on repenting for things in the past because I try to do that when I realize the error of my ways and then move on, trusting that I am loved and forgiven.
In the Season of Lent, I am choosing to be on the lookout for souls in the lives of all people.
The Season of Lent is coming to a close. This Sunday begins what is known as Holy Week. Then comes Easter. While I know I will be grateful to see the end of the Season of Lent, I hope I continue to let each day be a gentle reminder of the Season of Lent: a time of “seeing-souls.”
Weather-wise,
it is overcast and gloomy.
Nature has arrived in full force
bringing devastation and tragedy.
Politically,
aftershocks of the global tariff war
have begun to arrive in full force
heaping grief, disillusionment, anger and unbelievable fear.
When the going-got-rough for our forbears:
… poverty, war, hurricanes, ill health,
they held on to inheritance of the generations before them
their ancestors
who provided a legacy
of endurance and strength and hope.
Sometimes, that legacy was all they had to hold onto.
These days, it may be all we have to hold onto.
As the mountains in the photo speak of strength
the trees speak of endurance
the roses speak of hope
… all in one photo
inside each of us
through the legacy entrusted us,
by those-who-have-gone-before
is strength, endurance, hope.
In difficult times,
let us “hold on.”
We will.
We must hold on.
Just as our ancestors have, in the past,
one step,
one moment,
at a time
we, too,
will “hold on!”
MAiD (Medical Assistancein Dying) became law in Canada in June, 2016 with a variety of responses. It has been welcomed, ignored, misunderstood, controversial, deemed to be anathema.
Many years ago, the request by a friend to sign as a witness on her MAiD document, made me pause and reflect, once again, on life, on death, on compassion, on personal decision-making about one’s own body and more.
I found myself going back decades ago and a conversation with my mother who wanted to have ‘the conversation’ with me. Having serious health issues, she wanted me to know her thoughts on dying and her wishes. We had ‘the conversation’ many times over the years.
The day in her doctor’s office when he told us that Mom’s kidneys had failed and she would have to go on dialysis immediately, Mom made it very clear that she would not do dialysis. The earlier conversations we’d had over the years were brought into reality.
Mom had often expressed a hope that the Canadian government would let people who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, make the decision as to the timing of when they would die for themselves in consultation with their doctor. Mom didn’t get her wish. MAiD was not legal at that time.
Before my husband Hans and I married, we talked about our “final wishes” and MAiD emerged in conversations. Hans was born in the Netherlands where they had their own equivalent to MAiD. He had researched it, was a supporter, and when his first cancer diagnosis was pronounced, we revisited our early discussions. With his second cancer diagnosis, he wanted to formalize things with his doctor and let him to know that if the prognosis were terminal with extreme pain and incapacitation, he wanted to be a candidate when the law was passed in Canada.
With his third cancer (terminal esophageal) a few years later, he knew that the extreme pain he dealt with each moment, would get worse as the cancer continued to spread. There was no quality of life for him at that time. He couldn’t swallow; he couldn’t speak above a whisper; he was exhausted and the pain was not being managed. The time had come. He reminded me that his wishes remained strong and steadfast and that if he couldn’t be granted his request in Canada, he wanted to go to the Netherlands where his request would be granted.
He reminded me of our experience with Shandy, our rescue-dog and beloved King Charles spaniel who had been in pain for too long. While the medications helped her somewhat, pain was her daily, ever-increasing experience. The morning we put her favourite cookie in her mouth and she didn’t know what to do with it, we were at a complete loss. The vet diagnosed it as ‘canine dementia,’ and told us that her kidneys had now failed. He could offer no further remedial help.
Shandy had no quality of life. She wasn’t eating. She was in emotional distress and constant physical pain. She was deaf and almost completely blind. The vet asked what we wanted to do. We asked ourselves “Could we love her enough to let her go?”
It was Friday. An appointment was set for the procedure to happen the next morning. “Monday.” I said. “How about we have her with us over the weekend and have the procedure done on Monday?” My wise husband let me talk and cry it out. He had had dogs all of his life and had walked this road with them in the past. Shandy was my first such experience. Hans and I talked and listened to one another in the silence as we held Shandy close to us. And then I heard myself say “Let love speak.”
By rescuing her from a terrible situation so very long ago, she had been given love and a life of freedom from the pain she had endured from a cruel owner. That was then.
Could we give her love and a life of freedom from pain now – even if that meant we would no longer have her with us?
As difficult as it was, we knew that it was our time to give Shandy the gift of unconditional love and let “love speak.”
I will never forget Shandy’s eyes as she sat on my lap on the drive to the veterinarian’s office the next morning. Usually, on the road and at the vet’s, Shandy was agitated. Not that time. This time, she was quiet. She was at peace.
Love spoke. Under the gentle hands of the vet, Shandy gently left us.
Supporting Hans’ decision for MAiD was personally difficult. But in remembering our experience with Shandy, I knew I had to “let love speak” and support my husband’s decision.
When I sit in a doctor’s office and am asked to sign MAiD papers for friends with whom I have spent a lot of time listening to and talking about ‘possibilities’, I remember my mother. I remember Shandy. I remember Hans. And each time, as I sign the papers, I know that the motivation is clear … “Let love speak.”
While I pray that each person whose MAiD paper I sign will leave planet earth gently, in their sleep, I am aware that death may not happen that way. If that doesn’t happen, and they choose to invoke MAiD, I will ‘let love speak’ and support them in any way I can.
And, should such a time come when I make such a decision for myself, I pray that others will ‘let love speak’ and support me in my decision.
May love always speak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~ An aside – this reflection is not intended to cause debate, argument, distress or controversy about the MAiD program in general or in particular. It is a personal reflection only. *****************************
Welcome Spring … Vernal Equinox … to this part of the world. You arrived today! Hurray!
You’re technically here, Spring Equinox, so may we have … a little less cold … no more frost (or snow!) … more sunshine … blossoming flowers and shrubs and plants and trees … chirping birds …happy sounds of children at play outdoors … and compassion, commonsense, integrity, transparency and truth coming from governments and leaders. Please?
When the frost and snow and dreary rains and overcast skies depart, may new life S P R I N G to us all … new life in Nature … new life in aching bodies … new life in relationships … new life in political realms … new life in hope!
Oh how we need spring – spring in our weather – and spring in our souls.
A friend posted this a while ago, and with her permission, I share it here. She wrote: “To tell me I’m not family because my political views are different from yours, is beyond sad. To wish me dead, simply because I have gay friends and support gay rights, because I believe there should be gun reform, and because I had the audacity to be supportive of those who chose to walk out of class for 17 minutes is beyond sad. My heart breaks for you. I love you. But you should know, I will always love you … but from a distance.”
I was deeply saddened that she found herself in such a situation and saddened that the political situation in her country has come to this morass where families are divided.
I am grateful she supports her gay friends; grateful she believes in gun reform; grateful she continues to love those who have expressed hatred for her; grateful she realizes that such love must be from a distance for self-preservation; and grateful that she is taking care of herself and walking the path which will lead her to inner peace.
What about us? What decisions do we make about who we let into our lives – thoughts – time – conversations – emails – social media? Are we taking care of ourselves and walking the path of inner peace?
Why do we let the behaviour of others complicate our lives … cause hurt … alienate us from friends / family members … even destroy our inner peace.
Why? And when we do let the behaviour of others do those things, what consequences come our way?
Surely when we let the negative behaviour of others enter our thoughts, our conversations, even our sleep to the point that we become unable to think about much else or get a full night’s sleep, our inner peace is destroyed.
If we want inner peace, we must make decisions about who we let into our thoughts, our conversations, emails, blogs, social media. We must not let the behaviour of others destroy our inner peace.
A long time ago, a child lived while the world around her was exploding
with hatred, violence, evil.
At that time, one man had risen to power
… a man who hated
… a man who lied
… a man who was the catalyst for violence.
… a man through whom evil spread.
That one man became the model for others to hate.
He encouraged others to lie and be violent.
And evil spread even further
through the actions of those who followed that one man.
Lies spread even further.
Violence erupted daily.
The world of the child and her family became a world of fear for their very lives.
So they hid and lived in an attic for years
until they were betrayed
and the child, along with most of her family and millions of others died unthinkable deaths.
The time in history was World War 11.
Humanity did not learn then.
Hope was gone.And yet
in the midst of the chaos, suffering, hatred, senselessness, violence and evil,
one child – Anne Frank,
wrote hope-filled words in her journal … “Where there is hope, there is life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again.”
The time in history – is now.
A leader unleashes evil with his hatred, his lies, his ability to evoke violence.
Will humanity learn now?
Democracy is at great risk.
Where is the hope?
Hope exists.
It lies in the people who have spoken up and are speaking out –
It lies in those who refuse to be intimidated.
It lies in me – and you.
May the world remember the words of a young girl “Where there is hope, there is life.” <Anne Frank>I have hope – because I MUST have hope.
Not to have hope means that we give up
and when we do
evil gets its way.
Another month begins … February 1st … and this year, it’s a day and month with a number of things to mark … St. Brigid’s Day (more about her, below) … Imbolc/Imbolg, a Gaelic festival which celebrates the arrival in longer, warmer days and early signs of spring in some places … Candlemas (the Presentation of Christ in the Temple) … Groundhog Day … the beginning of Black History Month (well, after recent news events, it’s unlikely there will be any/much official mention of that. … the anniversary of the abolition of slavery in the United States (1865) – that, too. … the day the president of the U.S. imposed 25% tariffs on Canada and he and his minions inflicted even more frightening decisions on the American public.
Clearly, what is needed is some calm – some sense of hope – some reminder that joy, love, light are still here.
When I took this photo, I was reminded of a lovely Celtic prayer based on the Caim (Gaelic – meaning a ‘circling’ / ‘enfolding’) used by early Celtic Christians, based on a prayer found in the Gethsemane Chapel, Wells Cathedral, England.
Still used by those who value its benefits of ‘protection’ or ‘sanctuary’), I remembered St. Brigid – one of Ireland’s patron saints. Presumed to have been an early Christian nun, abbess, and founder of several monasteries of nuns, it said that she often visited homes and farms to offer blessings of protection … “enfolding/circling” of homes and livestock.
This is the Celtic prayer known as the “Enfolding Prayer.”
“Encircle me this night with your presence. Keep joy within. Keep bitterness out. Keep generosity within. Keep greed out. Keep love within. Keep self-seeking out. Keep light within. Keep darkness out.”
I am praying this prayer each night and do a second verse … replacing “me” with specific focus: Americans, refugees, the world, etc..
May each of us do what we can to keep bitterness, greed, self-seeking, darkness “out” so that joy, generosity, love, and light may be kept “within”.
It’s difficult to be grateful ~ when going through a difficult time personally; ~ when politics seem to occupy the attention of news and social media; ~ when phones become a barrier to conversations between parents and children, between friends and are even a safety hazard as people walk across streets texting, eyes focused down rather than up and looking around to make certain it is safe to cross the street; ~ when health issues are frightening and compounded by financial costs for the medical care; ~ when you believed what someone told you only to realize the words and promises were lies and you/your family/country will pay dearly for believing in that person.
But when gratitude fills our hearts and minds, it fills our souls and we are changed. How?
Look closely at the this lovely piece of art by calligrapher and teacher Gerry Jackson Kerdok. When I saw this particular work of hers, it deeply touched my spirit. Look at the creative interplay of the “U” and “D” which form the shape of a heart … a gentle reminder of the importance of gratitude in our lives.
The artist – often overlooked, unappreciated, forgotten. May we join in gratitude for the artists in our world artists who can create magic with pen and ink, watercolour or acrylic or oil, wood carving knife, video camera, cell phone camera, flowers, fabric, food, music, dance, digital camera, writing, drama and the list goes on.
How impoverished our world would be without artists and without the finest Artist of all – the Creator of the Universe.
I will never forget the conversation. “You are so lucky to be a Canadian and living in Canada. We are terrified of what will happen with our country if Obama doesn’t get into the White House.”
The fear expressed at the time was palpable. I could feel it!
That was then. This is now. And today, another Presidential Inauguration.
This time, the fear is beyond palpable in the United States. It has spread far beyond the borders of the United States.
The world is watching and hopefully remembering a man who swayed the masses into believing that he … and only he … could make their country great again. He didn’t the first time. He won’t this time.
While the world seemed void of hope – then and the world seems void of hope – now nature and history provide Conduits of Hope: flowers growing in the desert … in cement … along a wooden fence Rosa Parks … Malala … Barack Obama and his election – twice! … Bishop Budde …
Strong reminders of tenacity, courage and hope.
Conduits of hope ARE around us.
May we look for Conduits of Hope.
May we see Conduits of Hope.
May we believe in Conduits of Hope.
May we be Conduits of Hope.
Photo: Laura Hope – Unsplash – used with permission
