Learning to Be Myrrh Bearers

Learning to Be Myrrh Bearers

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they arrived at the tomb, carrying the spices they had prepared.—Luke 24:1.

I remember preparing to present a workshop at the International Community of Hope conference one summer in Texas. The Community of Hope began training individuals who aren't ordained to serve as hospital chaplains at St. Luke’s Hospital in Houston. The training program is now used worldwide by those interested in visiting the sick and homebound. I have been involved with the Community of Hope in our diocese for over twenty-five years. I continue to see it as excellent preparation and study for anyone called to a ministry involving pastoral care in any form. (Some might believe this applies to all ministries!) One hallmark of the training is its foundation in Benedictine spirituality. 

The image of the Community of Hope Chaplains that keeps coming to me is the “myrrh bearers,” the women who brought spices to the tomb of Jesus on that early Easter morning. They brought their most precious resources to honor the one who had cared for them. In my experience, this has been the story of many called to be pastoral in any ministry they are involved in.

They know what it is like to be wounded and be ministered to by other healers. They understand what it is like to be loved and cared for by others. Their only way to share, sustain, and keep that love is to pass what they learned on to someone else.

What happens during the myrrh bearers’ visit is completely unexpected. They go to honor their friend and teacher; instead, they are promised a new life, a resurrection in this life and the next.

I’ve never experienced a visit without receiving resurrection. We are touched and healed by those we visit. We take our most precious possessions—ourselves, our time, and our presence—and make an offering. In return, we always encounter the resurrected Christ in many forms.

During the pandemic, we connected via Facebook, Zoom, and individual phone calls. In addition, our Daughters of the King, vestry, and clergy called everyone in our parish twice. 

We also offered Community of Hope training on Zoom at St. Mark’s for those interested in integrating pastoral care into their ministries. Thirty-three graduates from across our diocese are now applying what they learned in 28 different ministries. We still meet once a month on Zoom to continue our studies and support one another. We held a regional retreat for Community of Hope chaplains in the Midwest, with the Reverend Barkley Thompson, the rector of St. Mark’s, as the keynote speaker. Recently, we again trained fifty-five Community of Hope chaplains from twenty churches in the Diocese of Arkansas.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com https://www.joannaseibert.com/

A Liturgy of the Veil

A Liturgy of the Veil

Guest Writer: Karen DuBert

"At that moment, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split."— Matthew 27:51

A Liturgy of the Veil

It was not a translucent, shimmering, lacy veil—

a hint of covering, inviting speculation.

It was not to hide the wearer or obscure the view.

It was weighty, ponderous, impressive

(“thick as a man’s hand” they said)

sixty feet high by thirty feet wide,

seventy-two squares woven together to last:

A massive undertaking to fabricate

to say nothing of hanging it

(it took three hundred priests, they claim)

Lord, the Veil You ordered to keep us safe

was not soft and cozy to bury our faces in—

no, it hung heavy, solid, and forbidding.

That veil was a shield

to protect us from the searing brightness of Your glory,

from the Beauty we couldn’t bear to see

from the Perfection that would have scalded us

from the Holiness that threatened to blind us:

It barred the way to the Mercy Seat

and once a year it was trespassed

(with fear and trembling, I’m sure)

by one with bells attached

and a rope to pull a body back—should things go badly.

In that veil You posted “No trespassing:

Violators will be prosecuted”

Thus we fathomed that holy was hazardous

as well as sacred.

But then “at the moment”

when the tormented Man on the cross cried out—

that Impenetrable Veil was obsolete,

Torn from top to bottom:

You tore it

and the Mercy Seat glimmered—

centuries of sprinkled bloodstains vanished.

So began the invitation into Your Presence

to bask in a welcome

we could never have borne

had death’s undoing not begun

and nothing has ever been the same. 

Amen

Karen DuBert

 Joanna JoannaSeibert. com

Leonard Cohen and Hallelujah

Leonard Cohen

“You let me sing, you lifted me up, you have my soul a beam to travel on. You folded your distance back into my heart. You drew the tears back to my eyes. You hid me in the mountain of your word. You gave the injury a tongue to heal itself. You covered my head with my teacher’s care, you bound my arm with my grandfather’s strength. O beloved speaking, O comfort whispering in the terror, unspeakable explanation of the smoke and cruelty, undo the self-conspiracy, let me dare the boldness of joy.”―Leonard Cohen, “Poem 19,” Book of Mercy, 1984.

My husband and I recently watched an incredible documentary about Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah” and the 80 to 180 verses he wrote throughout his lifetime. Certainly, the music and its lyrics captured the life of the Canadian poet and songwriter. The story behind Hallelujah was equally fascinating. It took Cohen five years to write the song.

Cohen initially released Hallelujah on an album that was rejected by a major record company in this country, and it was only released in England in 1984, where it achieved minimal success. Its widespread popularity truly began when other well-known singers, John Cale and Jeff Buckley, started performing Hallelujah. Remarkably, the version of Cale’s Hallelujah used in the animated movie Shrek in 2001 caused the song's popularity to skyrocket. Then, after Cohen’s death in November 2016, the song gained renewed international recognition. 

I remember being moved by “Hallelujah” when k.d. lang performed it at the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, Canada, in 2010. She was dressed in white on a high stage, singing the anthem with all her heart.

Lang described the verses as a battle between human desire and spiritual wisdom. The early lines include biblical references to Samson and Delilah, as well as King David and Bathsheba. Many see the music and lyrics fluctuating between blessings and losses. The history of the anthem and its lyrics appears to serve as a powerful timeline for Cohen’s spiritual autobiography.

What music might each of us compose to share the story of our spiritual journey?

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/