Heaven

Thanks to a few February snow days, I've been able to catch up on sorting and editing a backlog of photos as well as update my blogs. These photos are from October 22, 2014, which just happens to have been my birthday. Noon hour Mass at St. Mary's in Brookline and the Wednesday night session at Malachy's in Quincy: my idea of a perfect day.

If Today You Hear His Voice, Harden Not Your Heart

Yesterday, Sunday, my early morning anxiety around preparing to take my music ministry on the road - to Windemere in the morning and Long Hill in the afternoon - was manifesting itself as negative thinking: Who do you think you are? You're nothing. You stink. You're not prepared. You're a lousy musician. Look at you, packing up all this gear, all these hymnals, spending hours pouring over Bible readings and songs; you're not worthy to do this job. Nobody cares. Really - who do you think you are?

As I wandered from room to room, gathering my guitar, music stand, box of hymnals, and sound system, all while the negative, self-deprecatory thinking continued, I passed through the dining room and my eyes fell on the digital read-out of my humidifier: 23 (23%relative humidity - an important number for the room in which I store my guitars and fiddle). In the semi-dark of my dining room, the luminous number jumped out at me, like a neon light, and immediately, the words of Psalm 23 - The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want; he leads me beside the still waters;...yea though I walk through the valley...I shall fear no evil - replaced the negativity.

My preparations for this ministry, the launch pad I use for choosing music for the week is the psalm of the day. This week's psalm refrain was from Psalm 95: "If today you hear his voice,harden not your hearts," and the question on my mind and the question I was planning to ask my "congregations" was, "Where do we hear God's voice?"

I believe that God's voice is quite distinguishable. It's the voice that guides us to right action, to reconciliation, to healing, to affirming and ministering to the weak; the voice of positivity; light in the midst of darkness. Sometimes God's voice is subtle, barely audible. Yesterday, God spoke to me clearly and distinctly. Through the digital readout on my humidifier. And yes, the day's music went very well.

My Porch

My porch, in the historical center of Edgartown, maybe 8' from the sidewalk, is a ministry of sorts, as it turns out.

A couple of Saturday nights ago I was hosting a small Irish traditional music session, a regular occurrence for me on a Saturday night. The conditions were favorable - low humidity and no bugs - for playing out of doors so we repaired to the porch for an evening of jollyment. After an hour or so of a friendly back and forth session of tune-sharing on fiddles and guitars, two gentlemen stepped up to the porch - Teng, a 1993 escapee from Laos, now living in New York city; and Carl, from Boston. Before long it was discovered - as is often the case with visitors to the porch - that one of the gentlemen, Teng, played guitar. Indeed, Teng played and sang beautifully and regaled us, first of all, appropriately, with The Fields of Athenry. Teng offered a couple more pop-folk songs to the mix while also sharing the fact that he was having a tough time due to his twenty-year-old nephew having been shot dead in Milwaukee the previous night; at least one of Teng's songs was offered up in memory of his nephew. So, during the course of the night the music shifted from Irish to folk to the classic Catholic hymn Here I Am, Lord in three-part harmony. I even managed to get my Gloria into the mix. A lovely evening.

The Parable of the Sower

The best words I heard this week: "You're not in exile; you're in the center, in the heart of the matter." Indeed, the center of the Gospel includes betrayal and heartbreak.

My Sunday offering - June 13, 3014, the 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time.

Parable by M.D. Ridge, a beautiful combining of Kohelet and Matthew, and a nice alternative to the Byrds.



Parable, by M.D. Ridge
Based on Ecclesiastes 3:1-9 and Matthew 13:4-8

1. To everything, there is a season;
a time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant, and a time for harvest;
a time to meet and a time to part.
A sower went out to sow the seed.
Some of it fell upon the path,
some fell on shallow, rocky soil,
and some among choking thorns.

2. To everything, there is a season;
a time to speak, and a time for silence;
a time to wound and a time to heal.
Nothing can grow in barren soil;
briars and ravens take their toll;
still there is grain a hundred-fold
from seed that took root and grew.

3. To everything, there is a season;
a time to be born and a time to die.
A time to speak, and a time for silence;
a time to seek and a time to lose.
God's word is like the farmer's seed,
rooted in joyful, loving hearts,
growing like grain in fertile ground,
a harvest that overflows.

Bread of Life, Feast of Corpus Christ

My heart breaks from not being able to attend Mass these days, so I offer this.

Father's Day

I never met my father, which on one hand was a real drag and the cause of a lot of confusion in my life, but on the other hand, being born with a broken heart set me on a search for healing ("there is nothing as whole as a broken heart" - a great Yiddish expression) that resulted in finding my Father-God; a priceless gift that I wouldn't trade for anything. Ultimately, I did find my father - in my hand-work skills that I inherited by way of his violin-maker's hands - in my music, especially in my violin - and the way he has spoken to me along the way: playing my violin back to me on the wind on a visit to his grave (true story as God is my witness), in his love letters to my mother, and recently, in the little violin brooch I dug up out of my garden. I see him in my older son's eyes and receding hairline, and in Ethan's dimpled chin. Being found by and meeting some of my father's family for the first time last year was the frosting on the cake. I am most especially grateful for the strength and knowledge as well as the gift of faith I have gained as a result of this particular journey. Happy Father's Day, everyone.

Annunciation

I'm behind in my writing these days, not that I don't have anything to say; but rather, I have so much to say I don't know where to begin, so I'll simply say some of it via a song I composed back in December, inspired by the readings of the day. The same Luke reading came up again yesterday for the Solemnity of the Annunciation of Our Lord, which was my inspiration for sitting down and recording it. It's about saying yes to God and trusting His plan. Not all that easy, most days. Full disclosure: still recovering from a nasty cold, so the voice is not exactly where I like it to be (but inspiration waits for no-one).