I Stand By the Door

I Stand By The Door

All Saints' Day -- November 1, 2008 . . . and
in Australia on November 18, 2008 . . . and
on October 29, 2009



I saw this again this morning and decided to put it on the blog since the whole of it is so dear to my heart.  If you have read it before, please just pass it by unless you feel led to re-visit the heart behind the words.


The earliest form of my call to ministry came when I was six years old, in the 1st and 2nd grade choir at West Pullman Methodist Church on the South Side of Chicago, as I may have told you before. I finally answered my call to ministry at the end of May, 1987. I stood up and announced my intentions at the closing worship service of my Indian River Cursillo weekend in Cocoa, Florida.

The following fall I began my studies at Garrett Evangelical-Theological Seminary near my home town of Chicago, Illinois. My kids and I moved to the seminary campus in Evanston, Illinois from Satellite Beach, Florida. After going off active duty with the Air Force, I had been working as a Security Awareness Instructor for the Base Operations contractor at Kennedy Space Center.

When we got settled in our student apartment in Evanston, one of the first purchases I made at the Cokesbury Book Store on campus was a book called "A Guide to Prayer For Ministers and Other Servants"* by Reuben P. Job and Norman Shawchuk. Many years later, when I was studying at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C., Bishop Job came to reside on our campus for a semester to work on some writing. At that time I was blessed to be able to thank him in person for the ways the Lord had used that one of his many books in my spiritual journey.

One of the resources in the volume was the following poem:

I Stand by the Door*
by Sam Shoemaker

"I stand by the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world—
It is the door through which people walk when they find God.
There's no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind people,
With outstretched, groping hands.
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it ...
So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for people to find that door—the door to God.
The most important thing any person can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch—the latch that only clicks
And opens to the person's own touch.
People die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter—
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it—live because they have not found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him ...
So I stand by the door.

Go in, great saints, go all the way in—
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics—
It is a vast roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms.
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture in a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening ...
So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them
For God is so very great, and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia,
And want to get out. "Let me out!" they cry,
And the people way inside only terrify, them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled
For the old life, they have seen too much:
Once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving—preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them, too,
I stand by the door.

I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not, yet even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God,
You can go in too deeply, and stay in too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from people as not to hear them,
And remember they are there, too.
Where? Outside the door—
Thousands of them, millions of them.
But—more important for me—
One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
"I had rather be a door-keeper ..."
So I stand by the door."

* * * * *

That's as far as I got when writing this on All Saints' Day, but now that I am in Australia, I feel drawn to finish what I was trying to tell you about the poem and my call to ministry.

"I stand by the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world—
It is the door through which people walk when they find God.
There's no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is."

While I served the people of the three churches in rural West Virginia in the mid-90s, a growing restlessness nagged. I loved the people there very much -- and still do. But they already knew the Lord.

They had a special knowledge and joy that is missing from people who don't know the love of God in Christ. So many people don't even know what they are missing.

Or they have long ago rejected a relationship with God for what they think are very good reasons. Nevertheless, they often feel there is something missing from their lives and they try to fill the void they perceive.

They may fill it with the busyness of work, work, work.

They may find themselves hooked by addictions to a variety of substances, unhealthy relationships, or other distractions.

They may be "looking for love in all the wrong places" without even knowing that they are really seeking God. The fullness of God's love is available to everyone.

But there are many forces, circumstances, people, and mindsets that keep people from being able to receive the love and blessings God has available for them to receive and to share with others.

How can they find the way unless someone (or many people) who have found it help them?

"And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind people,
With outstretched, groping hands.
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it ...
So I stand by the door."

The saddest thing in the world to me is the way people suffer when they don't know they are loved.

So much suffering comes from not being able to receive God's love and the benefits of God's grace and mercy. Those of us who know have a responsibility to minister in love to those who do not know.

This does not mean that we should be judgmental.

This does not mean that we should behave like we belong to an exclusive club that people have to dress, act, and speak a certain way to be able to join.

This does not mean that we should ever think we are better than those who are struggling with the hardships of life all alone.

"The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for people to find that door—the door to God.
The most important thing any person can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch—the latch that only clicks
And opens to the person's own touch."

Please just think about it for a minute. How did you come to know God's love in Jesus Christ?

Do you know it?

Were you raised in church?

Did God find a way to reach you in a youth group?

Were you at the very lowest point in your life and heard an evangelist or a preacher?

Was someone kind to you and invited you to church?

Did you feel that you should seek help?

What was it like when you first came to believe? How did the Lord prove Himself to you?

"People die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter—
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it—live because they have not found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him ...
So I stand by the door."

Yes -- people die!

And they are dying without knowing the wonderful love of God in Jesus Christ.

This love can be a feeling inside ourselves.

But it is so much more the result of loving action by people.

The only thing that counts is this love in action.

It is also the only thing that lasts.

This love is not about religion.

This love has to do with a relationship . . . this love has to do with people helping people.

The face of God is everywhere people out of kindness help one another.

"Nothing else matters compared to helping" people find the way to this love. They go in and they find Him -- LOVE. They can only find Him if they have loving help.

"Go in, great saints, go all the way in—
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics—
It is a vast roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood."

It's amazing to hear about the saints of God -- or to read their writings. When people get a chance to experience the holy silence of a retreat at a monastery there can be wonderful revelations.

Think of St. Teresa of Avila. Her passion for God in Christ is a beacon to many people so many years later.

And what about St. Francis of Assisi? Thomas Merton? There are many, many others.

Even in our times recently -- think of Mother Teresa of Calcutta and all those who have joined her in serving people!

Sometimes people seek experiences instead of that special loving relationship lived out in community with others who know they are completely loved.

Sometimes they forget that they are filled up with that love so they can allow the blessings to flow out to others.

Think of John and Charles Wesley. . . their mother Susanna and their Dad, Samuel. Think of the busy lay women and lay men in the churches all around you.

Think of everyone you know who loves people by helping and nurturing each person they know.

There are so many facets to a relationship with God in Christ. When we allow the Lord to draw us deeper into His heart, we can really be blessed.

But what good is that unless we share that love with those who are in need?

"Some must inhabit those inner rooms.
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture in a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening ...
So I stand by the door."

No matter how wonderful our deep spiritual experiences are, no matter how glorious the view from the mountain top is, it is so important to turn back to the world. People are in great need.

And their greatest need is for the Lord.

 Before Jesus healed people or cast out demons or fed them, He taught them about God.

His disciples reported that Jesus always taught in parables -- a kind of spiritual poetry that pointed out the mysteries of life in the fullness of God's love. Before all of Jesus' deeds of spiritual power, He drew aside to pray.

When his closest disciples, Peter, James and John were privileged to witness one of Jesus' prayer sessions on the Mount of Transfiguration, they were amazed.

And others have known the same kind of spiritual conversation and consultation in prayer.

But so many more don't even know where the door is. So those who are called to do so stand by the door.

"There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them
For God is so very great, and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia,
And want to get out. "Let me out!" they cry,
And the people way inside only terrify, them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled
For the old life, they have seen too much:
Once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside."

It is true that coming closer to God can be scary. People get frightened and need reassurances.

They need someone to hold their hands and say, "It's all right."

They need people to explain how it was when they first encountered the Lord.

They need to be strengthened and reminded that God is with them and will help them in the transition and throughout the rest of their lives.

"The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving—preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them, too,
I stand by the door."

It is easy to get overwhelmed when you answer God's knock at your door. Life in the spirit is a different reality and we can become disoriented and long for all that is familiar and comfortable.

Love only exists in community, and we are meant to celebrate and share the love of God in ways that gently spread the nurturing grace of the Lord's mercy and faithfulness.

No matter how many times we turn away, the Lord calls us back.

It is so important to let everyone who is having a hard time know that they are loved, forgiven, sought after and yearned for by the One who loves us all, and everyone on earth, every creature and all of creation.

"I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not, yet even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God,
You can go in too deeply, and stay in too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from people as not to hear them,
And remember they are there, too."

There are distractions, and it is easy to get "holier than thou" and forget that the purpose of knowing God's love in Christ is to share it.

St. Francis of Assisi wrote -- "Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."

I read that for the first time when I saw it written on the wall in the office of my friend and spiritual big brother, Charlie Parker, when he was the Executive Director of Bread for the City in Washington, D.C. At the time it struck me as strange, but I have come to appreciate it.

Love is not a feeling. Love is commitment, a decision, an activity.

The grace, mercy, faithfulness and fullness of love is expressed only through the ways we reach out and care about people in imitation of our Lord. With the help of Gods Holy Spirit in Christ Jesus we find all sorts of ways to share that love. There are always even more ways.

So keep coming to the well of God's love and grace. And wherever you move in God's house through prayer and meditation, remember that there are those who are still looking for the door.

"Where? Outside the door—
Thousands of them, millions of them.
But—more important for me—
One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
"I had rather be a door-keeper ..."
So I stand by the door."

May the Lord continue to bless and keep you and yours in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Alleluia! Amen.

 Blessings in the Love of Jesus -- Kathy

* "A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants" can be found at:

http://www.cokesbury.com/forms/search.aspx?ddlSearchScope=&txtSearchQuery=for%20ministers%20and%20other%20servants <http://www.cokesbury.com/forms/search.aspx?ddlSearchScope=&txtSearchQuery=for%20ministers%20and%20other%20servants>

* * * * *

Sam Shoemaker, founder of Faith At Work at Calvary Episcopal Church in New York City, in 1926,
was also one of the spiritual leaders who helped draft the 12 Steps of A.A.

*If you wish to read other articles by Sam Shoemaker: *

   * "What the Church can Learn from A.A.
     <http://www.faithatwork.com/history/Shoemaker/Church_AA.html>"
   * "Twelve Steps to Power
     <http://www.faithatwork.com/history/Shoemaker/SMS-12Steps.html>"
   * "A 'Christian Program'"
     <http://www.faithatwork.com/relational/GroupsWork/GroupsWork-Shoemaker.html>

http://www.faithatwork.com/history/Shoemaker/Shoemaker_StandByTheDoor.html
___________________
Kathleen Ware Harris, M.Div., M.T.S.
The Peace Fellowship Association


Thanks be to God and may the Lord continue to bless and keep you and yours, now and always.


When you seek God you will find Him,
when you seek Him with your whole heart.
[Jeremiah 29:13]

Now this is eternal life:
that they may know you, the only true God,
and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.
[John 17:3]

Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the LORD:
his going forth is prepared as the morning;
and he shall come unto us as the rain,
as the latter and former rain unto the earth.
[Hosea 6:3]

/s.d.g./



Kathleen Ware Harris  © 2013
kwharris777@gmail.com

A Wedding Homily

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To the Wedding Couple:  I hope you don't mind if I invite everyone here to listen in as I share a few things with you in a spirit of Love.

We are here today to celebrate the love that has brought you together. Today we are acknowledging the fact that each of you has had a separate life journey that has connected you to one another in love.  This commitment you have made to one another is the outward and visible sign of the Love and joy that exists between you. 

Isn't that amazing when you think of it?  Out of all the people in the world, you have been drawn to one another and you want to spend the rest of your lives in a loving relationship.

Wow!

Today you have pledged yourselves to one another and everyone here is a witness to that.  But today there is just the outward and visible sign of what Love has already done in your lives.  The love that surrounds you and sustains you is visible and present here in this place.  Our co-celebrant has spoken the traditional words spoken at weddings down through the centuries wherever Western civilization has left its mark, and you have spoken words of love and dedication to one another.  Soon we will celebrate in some other ways.  What a lot of joy!!

I feel very blessed and honored to be able to speak now, and I am so grateful to you both for bringing me here to share this time with you.

In the volumes and volumes written about love, I just want to lift up a few passages from some of my favorite songs.  The first one was written by John Lennon – "All You Need is Love".  I know that as Baby Boomers, we can almost not help humming as we remember some of the lyrics:

"There's nothing you can do that can't be done.

Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.

Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.

It's easy.

All you need is love."

But what exactly is love? 

Maybe we can start by talking about what Love is not.

First, love is not just a feeling.  

Love is a decision.  Love is action.  In order to find out if the attraction you felt for your groom was something worthwhile, dear bride, you came all the way to the far reaches of the south Pacific from Central America.  And dear groom, you responded after the two of you had been together in person here by trekking all the way across the US and then down to Central America and back with your beloved.  Those two sets of effort and the willingness to risk changing your lives speak volumes about your love in action.

Second, love is not something that causes hurt or pain to the beloved. 

This doesn't mean you won't hurt one another.  No one is perfect and often there are misunderstandings.   We often act out of old hurts that need to be healed, and I believe that Love is the great healer.  But Love is not deliberately mean or cruel.  And the way Love helps us is by giving us the ability to work through issues and to forgive one another when we hurt someone we love.

Third – love involves at least two people. 

We do not live in a vacuum, but hopefully in relationship.  Not only does the love you have include everyone here who loves you, but Love also encompasses everyone who has ever loved you.  The experiences you had with others you have loved are all part of the love you share together. 

People often love weddings because the joy that comes from openly sharing love is contagious.  And your lives together in this special loving relationship will be enhanced by how you care for one another in the community of loving people you know now – and those you will meet in the future.

O.K.

So what is love?  And especially what is love in the context of marriage? 

Some more Baby Boomers:  Peter, Paul and Mary -- through the words of Paul Stookey's "Wedding Song" ask the question this way:

"Well then what's to be the reason
For becoming man and wife?

Is it Love that brings you here
Or Love that brings you life?

And if loving is the answer,
Then who's the giving for?

Do you believe in something
That you've never seen before?
There is Love, there is Love."

When two people make a loving commitment to one another, they are still separate people, but they become a new entity called a married couple.  This joining together is a mystery and also a process.  That formation didn't begin today, and it didn't even start the first time you connected online.  The love you have today began as a yearning in each of your hearts.   As you continue in your life together, Love will bind your hearts in all the ways you allow it to do that for the good of each of you.

So  . . . here we all are – full of joy for you both, and glad to share in your happiness.  Here we are to witness a kind of miracle -- two people from the farthest reaches of the earth have decided to come together in love. 

And when things get tough, everyone who is here who loves you, and people you don't know who will love you – and people who love you who were not able to be here -- will be there to help you. So don't forget to reach out in person, by phone, by internet – or just by crying out in your heart. The help will come, because that's the way Love is.

There's just one more song I want to refer to if you don't mind.  It's “Evergreen" by Luther Vandross.

"Love, soft as an easy chair
Love, fresh as the morning air
One love that is shared by two
I have found with you."

I have loved that song from the first moment I heard it. Describing the spirit of love in ecstatic terms, I think it captures a very romantic vision.

And after all . . . here we are in a romantic place where the two of you have made a special place for people in love. Your love will continue to be renewed because you are sharing what you have found with others and they will help you as well.

So . . . like that idea that there are three important considerations when you are looking for real estate – (location, location, location). I have three pieces of advice for you both:

Love one another.

Love one another.

Love one another.

And may all that is LOVE bless and keep you and all those you love now and forever.

(Let it be so.)

Kathleen Ware Harris                                                    s.d.g.

* * * * *

References:

The Gift of Love – 1 Corinthians 13

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20cor%2013&version=31

* * * * * *

All You Need is Love – Paul McCartney

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.

Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.

Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game

It's easy.

There's nothing you can make that can't be made.

No one you can save that can't be saved.

Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be in time

It's easy.

All you need is love, all you need is love,

All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.

All you need is love, all you need is love,

All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

There's nothing you can know that isn't known.

Nothing you can see that isn't shown.

Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.

It's easy.

All you need is love, all you need is love,

All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

All you need is love (all together now)

All you need is love (everybody)

All you need is love, love, love is all you need. 

http://www.allspirit.co.uk/allyouneed.html

* * * * * * *

PM&M's Wedding Song – Noel Paul Stookey

He is now to be among you
At the calling of your hearts
Rest assured this troubadour
Is acting on His part.
The union of your spirits, here,
Has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you
Are gathered in His name
There is Love, there is Love.

Well, a man shall leave his mother
And a woman leave her home
And they shall travel on to where
The two shall be as one.
As it was in the beginning
Is now and til the end
Woman draws her life from man
And gives it back again.
And there is Love, there is Love.

Well then what's to be the reason
For becoming man and wife?
Is it love that brings you here
Or love that brings you life?
And if loving is the answer,
Then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something
That you've never seen before?
Oh there is Love, there is Love.

(Short solo)

Oh! The marriage of your spirits here
Has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you
Are gathered in His name
There is Love, there is Love.

http://www.weddingvendors.com/music/lyrics/n/noel-paul-stookey/the-wedding-song/

* * * * *

Evergreen – Luther Vandross

Love, soft as an easy chair
Love, fresh as the morning air
One love that is shared by two
I have found with you
Like a rose under the April snow
I was always certain love would grow
Love ageless and evergreen
Seldom seen by two
So you and I will make each night a first
Everyday a beginning
Sprits rise and their dance go unrehearsed
They warm and excite us
Cause we have the brightest love
Two lights, two lights that shine as one
Morning glory and a midnight sun
Time we learned to sail above
Time the world changed the meaning of
Oh, ooh one love
Ageless and ever,
Evergreen.

http://www.lyricsmania.com/lyrics/luther_vandross_lyrics_3945/songs_lyrics_11669/evergreen_lyrics_135345.html

Kathleen Ware Harris  © 2013
kwharris777@gmail.com

The Latter Rain

A Drink of Living Water

This is from June 1, 2009, but I just came across it again today, October 17, 2009.

The Latter Rain

I was just in Washington, D.C. for the two week

Doctorate of Ministry session at Wesley Seminary,

and was very happy to be there when the azaleas

were blooming.

Nevertheless, at times in the past few years

it has been very difficult for me to be there in certain ways. 

One of the problems is that I always have a list of friends

I would like to see, but often I am able to visit

with many fewer friends than those on my whole list. 

Since early May when I drove up there, however,

I was blessed to be able to visit with many friends

and family members from Washington, D.C. to Falls Church,

Vienna, Yorktown and Chesapeake, Virginia;

to Charleston, South Carolina.

Then, because of some car trouble over the weekend,

I was blessed to meet some very helpful people

and some who were eager to share stories of faith. 

What a joy that was even though my trip

was not going as I had planned!

I am finally very happy to be with Krista

and her family near Marietta, Georgia

on my way back to the central west coast of Florida where

my parents and my sister and her family live. 

I treasure every visit, and am very glad that

while I was in Washington, I was able to touch base

with two dear friends I hadn’t seen in ages. 

One was a fellow colleague in ministry

who had taken part in the Urban Ministry Track

at Wesley Theological Seminary with me. 

The other was a dear friend whom I met

three weeks before Krista was born --

thirty-seven years ago -- on the day I found out

that my mother’s father had passed away. 

While visiting with her, I was reminded me

of the late winter rains in Central Illinois.

A dark gray relentless overcast of clouds,

accompanied by heavily dripping, cold rain

was common weather during a late winter day

in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois, in the early 1970s. 

As a matter of fact, if you look up a definition for the word “dreary”

in certain dictionaries, you might find the extra reference,

“Go to spend some time in central Illinois in late winter.” 

That particular day in the first week of March, 1972,

matched the description completely. 

The barren fields of the South Farms of the University of Illinois

tucked in the Married Student Housing Apartments

on the south and west sides.  The northern border was

a sedate neighborhood with full-grown trees favored

by many faculty members of long-standing. 

And the eastern border was a newer part of town where

younger faculty members lived, sometimes in houses

designed by avant garde architects.

As usual for that time of year, the prevailing winds

bringing in new weather systems were beginning to shift

from the wintertime north or west to almost exclusively from the west. 

Soon the intermittent thunder storms of late winter

and early spring would begin, booming their way

across the central plains of the U.S.

My kids' father was my husband at the time. 

We could often hear the sounds of the storms

growing in intensity for up to an hour or so

before they came swiftly crashing over our heads. 

Then at times he and I would awaken

to a loud noisy crack above our heads.

The extremely loud boom would startle us out of sleep

because the noise seemed loud enough to break open

the flat roof under which we lived on the second floor

of the two-storied apartment building

in Married Student Housing.

At first the storms were terrifying to us.

However, when we had become accustomed to the noise,

and when we came to know the normalcy of the visitation

of those late winter and early spring storms,

we actually began to enjoy them. 

When the sound of the thunder woke us up,

we would wait out the storm by counting the time

between the lightning flashes and the rolling thunder. 

The lightning was visible on the edges of the open spaces

between the slats of the Venetian blinds over the windows. 

Even though the frame of the bedroom window was decorated by curtains,

the fabric was sheer enough to allow the light to shine through

The apartment was furnished, but we had bought the bedroom curtains

at a discount store with the money from inside our wedding cards,

along with a bucket and a mop, and many other household items

not fit for fancy wedding wrapping paper.

 

In the dark of night, we would first become aware of the coming storm

when we heard the distant rumblings echoing across the nearly flat land

to the west of us -- the great prairies of the central United States,

vast plains interrupted by rivers and only some occasional rolling hills.

The noise of the thunder came first without any light that was visible. 

Then, the closer the storm system came to us, the light flashes

became brighter as we counted an ever decreasing space of time

between the sounds and the light. 

We counted, “One one thousand, two one thousand. . .” 

And we imagined that maybe we could hear the thunder

all the way from when the storm was roiling over the Mississippi River

on Illinois’ western border with Missouri and Iowa.  But probably

we could only hear its noisiness from somewhere east

of the Sangamon River that wends its way through Illinois’ capital,

Springfield, a bit more than a hundred miles away from Champaign-Urbana.

By the time the sounds of thunder and reality of the lightning flashes

were almost simultaneous, we often gave up trying to sleep and

went into the living room to watch the powerful display of nature

from the big picture window. 

As the storm system majestically passed us, moving on toward the edges of the plains

in western Indiana, we marveled at the magnificent lightning displays.

By the time our living room window lent a frame to the beauty and wonder

of the power of the storm, we saw the jagged lights flashing

just ahead of our ability to hear the sounds of the tremendous thunder boomers. 

Our living room window faced south, so as we watched and listened

to the last of the thunder storm sweep past us to the left, we often

wondered how far it still had to go. 

The system might break up as the plains ended in central and eastern Indiana. 

Or maybe the deluge would lose its power as it reached

the approach to the Appalachian Mountains in southeastern Ohio. 

The towering cumulus clouds might also completely be delivered

of their life-giving fresh water along the way, and die out,

never to disturb the sleep of the ever-increasing populations

further east of central Ohio.

Those late winter and early spring rains

prepared thousands of hectares of fields for spring plows,

making the dark rich soil ready to receive corn kernels,

soy beans, barley pearls, hayseed and ears of various grains.  

The truck gardens, farmer’s wives gardens, and

orchards would be watered, too. 

And as the seasons changed, their bountiful vegetables and fruits

found their way to tables in rural areas, in small towns and in cities of all sizes

either as fresh, canned or dried products.  Or the grains fed farm animals

in the area or were made into cereals, baked goods and other products

for people near and far.

I can still remember growing up in Chicago and seeing the huge

and numerous grain elevators at the inland port on Lake Michigan.

Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the LORD: 

his going forth is prepared as the morning; and he shall come unto us as the rain,

as the latter and former rain unto the earth.  [Hosea 6:3]



Kathleen Ware Harris  © 2013
kwharris777@gmail.com

Rachmaninov's Vespers

Rachmaninov's Vespers


October 16, 2009

In the Dark of the Night Before the Brightest Dawn of ALL . . . So Far . . .

[Gentle Warning: there are long Russian names above and below.]

My friend Ellen sang Rachmaninov's Vespers in Moscow with the Kennedy Center Choral Arts Society. At the time Mstislav Rostropovich, affectionately known as Slava, was the Musical Director at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. I was blessed that she gave me a copy of the CD.

Ellen has an incredibly beautiful voice and I also have been blessed to be her friend since the days I was the Sunday School Superintendent at my home church in Washington. We often sang a hymn together based on Psalm 91 at the women's retreats . . . and at the healing ministry retreats on the banks of an inlet of the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay at a mansion converted to a Methodist retreat center if you can believe that.

Sadly, the last time I was in Moscow in the spring of 2007, Slava Rostropovich had just died.

It was also the week that Pope John Paul II was entombed under the altar at St. Peter's in Rome, and former Russian President Yeltsin was laid to rest.

Both Rostropovich and Yeltsin have graves in the Novodevichi Cemetery behind the western walls of a monastery by the same name in Moscow about three blocks from the Bogoslovsky Eurasian United Methodist Seminary . . . across the Moscow River from the hill on which Moscow State University presides, and not far from the sports complexes built for the Moscow Olympics.

A few days before I left Moscow, I saw the new graves replete with flowers when I was there with my new friend Vera who is one of the Bishop's assistants, though I had wandered around the outside of the monastery complex with another new friend who was teaching a course on the Old Testament at the Bogoslovsky Eurasian United Methodist Seminary there. (This was April/May of 2007)

[As a bizarre God-incidence, at one point Vera and I figured out that I had met her twin sister on the day of the first anniversary of my ordination as a pastor when Vera's twin sister, her husband, their son, and one of Vera's sons were in Washington. Imagine that!]

Anyway . . . the Novodevichi Monastery Cemetery is the most honored resting place for Russian and other kinds of heroes of the Russian Empire and the former Soviet Union, and my friend Slava Bogoslovsky's parents' graves are there, too.

I knew that particular Slava in Champaign-Urbana in the late 70s when he was a Soviet exchange professor during the days of Detente.

The last time I saw him was in Moscow, in the summer of 1994, sixteen years after we met in Illinois. While on my first Volunteer in Mission trip -- the first time I was ever in Russia (January, 1994) we had visited Novodevichi.

My Slava (the professor Bogoslovsky, not the musical director Rostropovich) told me that his Dad was with Lenin in the early days of the Bolshevik Revolution, and that his grandfather was the priest at the little white church along the Moscow River kitty-corner east and south of the marvelously extravagant St. Basil's Cathedral and the Christ Tower of the Kremlin with the clocks and bells.

[Attached is a photo of the Christ Tower and the Kremlin Wall from a place not far from Bogoslovsky's grandfather's church taken by me in the midst of one long summer midnight in Moscow.]

There is some Balalaika folk music you have no doubt heard even if you don't recognize it called "Midnights in Moscow" about the wonderful summer twilights.

(I may have mentioned that already sometime when I told you about the trip to Obninsk.)

But back to Rachmaninov's music and the Choral Society . . . a friend I grew up with met Slava Rostropovich not long before he passed away -- at Tolstoy's estate, Yasnaya Polyana, I think she said.

I'm sure you will be glad to know that I'm not going to go on and on about this as I keep the Saturday night before the Resurrection vigil.

[I wrote that before I remembered a few other stories . . . please excuse me. . . .]

You can hear the music several places online . . . www.pandora.com, perhaps.

There are also some links to websites below if you want to know more about Rostropovich.

Not trying to sell you anything, I trust you know . . .!

Just want to share something mystical and wonderful and the music that belongs to it.

Sooooo . . . later in that month I was in Moscow in 2007, I went to a recital given by the Rachmaninov Society in an apartment in Moscow not far from where the elite Soviet leaders had lived.

I'm pretty sure I told you about it already . . . please excuse me for being redundant.

The music was lovely at the recital. It was performed by some recent graduates of fine arts institutions, and there was a little museum display about Rachmaninov in the hallway of the apartment. They had copies of CDs of Rachmaninov's music, and I asked the attendant why the Vespers by the Choral Arts Society wasn't there. She said they had never heard of it, so I told her she could look it up online.

Oh.

So, also . . .that reminds me that when I was in college in the early 1970s, a music professor became enamored of Russian music and started both a Balalaika Orchestra and a Russian Choir.

I joined the Russian Choir and it was very wonderful -- mystical acapella music as haunting . . . and inspiring . . . as any angels could possibly sing, I think.

Then later when I got back from Moscow in the late spring of 2007, the ladies of my home church in northern Georgia wanted to get together with the folks at St. Mary's of Egypt Russian Orthodox Church in our neighborhood. So, I contacted their priest and the ladies went over when there was a church bazaar there and they got a tour of the sanctuary. We invited them to come to one of our Methodist Ice Cream Socials, but I am not sure if any of them were able to come.

While setting up the meeting as I was asked to do by one of the ladies of our church, I met with the Russian Orthodox priest in person.

Strangely enough as he and I were talking . . . and when he motioned to the place in the sanctuary where their choir stood to sing, I told him the story of my Russian Choir experience in the early 70s at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana.

Then things became a bit surreal to me because it turned out that the priest had been in Moscow the same time I was in the spring of 2007. The Russian Orthodox Churches that had split at the time of the Oktobrist Revolution -- and at other times . . . reunited at the rebuilt Church of the Savior near the Kremlin and there were big celebrations he attended.

The priest then asked me if I knew anything about what had happened to my Russian Choir director from all those years and miles ago.

I replied that I had heard nothing about him for years.

And things got a bit mystical . . .again . . .!

What I remember the priest explaining to me was that the daughter of the music professor married a man who became a Russian Orthodox priest.

After retiring the professor lived with her family.

Although the music professor had been some kind of agnostic or atheist most of his life as many people I knew in academia were in those hippie days, the priest said that one morning at his daughter's house the music professor woke up just absolutely sure of his belief in God in Christ.

You can't make this stuff up.

[Or I guess you could, but no one would probably believe it anyway.]

Those kinds of stories from my life with connections over years and years and miles and miles kind of remind me of the Glenn Miller classic big band jazz piece called "String of Pearls".

Why don't you listen and see if you don't agree, if you have the inclination?

http://www.ilike.com/artist/Glenn+Miller/track/String+Of+Pearls

May the shadows flee and the light come brightly into your heart whenever you are in the need of it . . . and always.

Blessings in All Grace, Love and Joy -- Kathy

Other online References:

http://www.fanfaire.com/rost/index.html

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000005E68/iconsnstuff/



Kathleen Ware Harris  © 2013
kwharris777@gmail.com

Light All Around You

I was recently reminded me of some kids I met when I was in Pushkin outside of St. Petersburg, Russia -- the town where there are several summer palaces of the tsars. I was escort-interpreting for a group of folks who wanted to help remodel a nurs ing home, so I was in the middle of conversations between Russian and English all day. A boy about five years old and his big sister who was ten were living on the grounds of the nursing home because their Mom was homeless and needed some special help. It was June of 1994, and we delighted in the "white nights" -- the long evenings and beautiful sunsets.

Since visitors from the U.S. were still rare in those days, we were received with a great show of hospitality. Nevertheless, we wanted to work very hard painting and repairing the floor of their cafeteria. And we wanted to be as friendly as possible to overcome all the years of enmity. The kids followed us around and were very helpful. They invited some of us to come and meet their mother and she gave me many pages of poetry she had written. We shared many gifts we had brought with all the people in the home and those who took care of them. The most touching present, though, was a little teddy bear the young boy gave me. For someone with so little to share a precious toy!

We ate all our meals at the nursing home, but lived down the street in an apartment building for former Soviet Academy of Sciences retirees. Before lunch and dinner we had to walk back to the apartment building to clean up and then return to the nursing home to eat. In those days people didn't talk to each other very loudly, so the thirty-seven of us in groups of two to six, sometimes calling back to one another must have seemed very rowdy.

One day as we were heading back to our lodgings an elderly woman I had seen on the grounds of the nursing home was trying to talk to some of my friends. None of the Russian translators were around and I had been delayed helping with a conversation between our foreman and the assistant director of the facility. One of my friends saw me and motioned for me to come and translate for the woman.

As I walked up I bowed with respect to her in the old Russian tradition and started to talk to her. She seemed very anxious to talk and asked, "Where are you from?"

I told her we were from some churches in the United States and that we had come to help renovate the nursing home. Out from under the kind of old blouses and sweaters homeless folks often wear she pulled out a miniature Russian Orthodox cross on a dirty white string and started kissing it and praising God, proclaiming, "I knew you were Christians! You have light all around you!!"



Kathleen Ware Harris  © 2013
kwharris777@gmail.com

Sufi Poet -- Rumi

"I am only the house of your beloved,

not the beloved herself:

true love is for the treasure,

not for the coffer that contains it."

The real beloved is that one who is unique,

who is your beginning and your end.

When you find that one,

you'll no longer expect anything else:

that is both the manifest and the mystery.

That one is the lord of states of feeling,

dependent on none;

month and year are slaves to that moon.

When he bids the "state,"

it does His bidding;

when that one wills, bodies become spirit.

[This is one of my favorite poems by Rumi.]

http://www.khamush.com/love_poems.html#"I am only the house of your beloved,