At our Roundtable Worship gathering on September 14 we focused our conversation and prayers on the question, What is my vocation at this stage of my life? With our reading of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (“for every season…”) as a preface, we listened to each other’s reflections on how we were listening to the limitations of our bodies, the perspectives we had on the world at this point, and our expectations about whatever future awaits us. For some it was a chance to line out how they understood their life’s journey to this point. For others, it was a chance to explore a deeper inwardness as more public activity draws to a close. My own previous posting about letting go of my truck spoke to this question, as I reflected on the difficulty of my Christian tradition in speaking to this question. It is a question we have to ask at any stage in our lives.
Here’s the liturgy with which we began, leading to our time at table and other standing elements of our liturgy.
Call to the Table
Throughout the winding journey of our years
We hearken to your call around each turn.
In the din of angry voices
We hear your still and steadfast voice of truth.
Amid the violence that would silence fearful tongues
We listen to your word of peace.
At tables shaken by the pounded fists of tyrants
We take refuge in the everlasting conversation of your love.
We come to your table,
Your table of peace.
All: Amen. Amin. Ameyn
Remembrance
When the earth became a garden we were born as creatures into growth and time.
In your time of grace we saw how seeds grew into flowers, seeding countless generations in the circles of our lives.
In grasping for a life beyond our death we turned our fears to greed, our love to lust, our care to domination.
Yet each generation found a witness to your everlasting love.
Out of a tiny seed of faithful service came a life no death could kill.
Out of the tears of mourners came a flood of mercy to renew the world.
Around their table we rejoice today in thanks and praise.
Thanksgiving
Out of the depths of your love, O God,
We receive an earth and oceans laughing with abundant life. At your table we hear your call to stewardship and a sharing of the life you give for all. At this table we anticipate the everlasting conversation of your love. At this table we lift up our thanks for those who brought us safe thus far. At this table we renew our hope for your promised new creation and so we raise our voice in song.
Thank you, Gerd, for this very personal response. I am sure it speaks to others about our search for the right response to whatever stage of life we are in.
Best in all times,
Bill
Dear Bill, I take the occasion of your prayerful reflections on life and its end in weakness and eventually death softened by the hope of the eventual resuccrection of the body, i.e. the whole person, not just a soul – to voice my concern of too much haughtiness over the last years when I got married again at 63, had a daughter at 65 and another one at 71, and was able to play with them until two or three years ago when Parkinson has been diagnozed. And now at almost 85, I feel sometimes unable to walk or even run, but still can ride the bike and ride a car, but can’t swim any more.
Many things I wanted to write (like translation of Gudina Tumsa’s writings into German, and writing up my life’s story for my older children (50 and 47) and the younger ones (20 and almost 14 now), I may not be able to do I fear.
Let us be wise and not postpone the essential things in a haughty feeling of everlasting strength and memory.
It is a reason to thank god for all the years he has given me and to pray to him to let me have some more time to finish the important matters to do.
Just in case others are in my situation,
love and grace, Gerd