When I was a kid, my mom was huge fan of the soap opera, As the World Turns. It’s a good bet she learned it from my Granny!
I couldn’t help but keep up some because it seemed to me that very little changed from spring break to summer vacation to Christmas break. We used to watch during lunch.
This week, I had a different experience of the notion of the world turning.
As Chanukah ends for this year and Advent goes on and Kwanzaa approaches, the emphasis is on light and dark and change in the midst of time.
I was blessed, this week, to be invited to a service of Lessons and Carols amidst the community of Columbia Theological Seminary, just down the road in Decatur.
A few things had changed since I first lived in that community, about 30 years ago.
One of those things was the music. Diversity is the first word that comes to mind. Not simply new hymn books with different colored covers, for that is dangerous enough as it is, but global influences and widespread leadership. I am dancing still!
I’m also reflecting on the teaching of Walter Brueggemann about the notion that our lives move through cycles of orientation and, as something changes, disorientation, and, eventually, to new orientation. (I suspect there’s some Ricoeur lurking in here, but it’s been a while! I can tell you that a paintbrush can do the trick!)
All of which came to mind as we sang a hymn that was new to me, by Rory Cooney. It’s called Canticle of the Turning and has a decidedly Celtic flavor to it. (Add in a smidge of flute!) I’d like to share just a bit. The refrain goes like this:
My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away your tears, for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn.
And then, my favorite verse:
From the halls of power to the fortress tower,
not a stone will be left on stone.
Let the king beware for your justice tears
every tyrant from his throne.
The hungry poor shall weep no more,
for the food they can never earn;
There are tables spread, ev’ry mouth be fed,
for the world is about to turn.
As the darkness falls early and the dogs leave puddles of cold rain everywhere, and people in my community need food to feed their families, I know three immediate things: light, prayers (complete with painted dots), and bone broth.
A new series of paintings and a batch of broth begin tomorrow. For tonight, light.
And love.