Church Bells

Church Bells

Guest Writer: Elizabeth-Anne Stewart

Elizabeth-Anne Stewart, C. 2022

I no longer hear the church bells ring,

summoning me from slumber,

awakening my soul,

rousing my sleeping heart

to a new day

a new world

a new beginning.

I no longer see

shadows playing on the walls

as dawn breaks

and sunlight stretches

through dusty blinds

into my room,

teasing me with vestiges

of yesterday

as I lie somewhere

between past and present

on a bed of solitude—

or loneliness, perhaps.

Oh, the ache of memory!

The ghosts that flit

across the cracks

of my fragmented self,

smile faintly, reminding me

of together days,

now severed by death—

but whose I ask,

who resides within the tomb?

My former self runs

to greet holy phantoms

but they play

hide and seek,

inhabiting my dreams

before fading

into the night.

Do they sleep

in cold vaults

of decaying bones

or do they rest

in the Divine Embrace

that so often eludes me?

I dare hope

they have risen on angels’ wings

but I, for one,

am anchored to Earth,

tethered by questions

that disturb the universe.

Priests and prophets

tread a jagged line

between gift and curse,

between heaven’s bounty

and worldly desires,

between insight

and cluelessness.

Elijah’s mantle

brings no peace

but only the burden of words—

syllables of possibility

reaching to Infinity

or anguished cries

that pierce complacency.

But every mystic knows

that in the darkest times,

Melchizedek’s gifts

of bread and wine

transubstantiate

the ordinary

into the extraordinary,

blessing those

who raise their eyes

to count the stars.

And so the script is set.

Church bells echo

from toppled steeples,

their faint lament

whispering beneath the rubble,

pleading to be heard.

Their chilling refrain

tolls for you, for me,

for a world devoid

of guiding lights

in which perversion

masquerades as passion,

and lies proliferate,

twisting Truth

into a commodity

that indoctrinates multitudes

while those with discerning minds

keep silent.

I stand on holy ground

where shards from St. James’ belfry

demand restoration,

still mourning

that day when the wrecking ball

wrought its worst,

muting their music,

levelling God’s House,

seemingly at whim.

Clawing stones,

scraping for relics,

my bleeding fingers

seek to liberate

their strains.

Elizabeth-Anne Stewart, PhD, PCC, BCC

In addition to her work as a spiritual director, Elizabeth focuses mainly on spiritual coaching and writing coaching. Based in the greater Chicago area, she teaches writing at St. Xavier University, and spiritual coaching at the Institute for Life Coach Training (ILCT); she recently launched The Ministry Coaching Foundation to offer opportunities for continuing education and personal renewal. 

www.elizabethannestewart.com; 

www.MinistryCoachingFoundation.com;

 www.ChicagoWritingCoach.com

 joanna. joannaseibert.com

Lessons from Epiphany 2021

Lessons from Epiphany 2021

“The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.”—Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

It is still painful to think about and respond to events at our Capitol on Epiphany, January 6th, 2021. First, it was disbelief that it was happening in the country we love.

I go to the safest place in our house, our bedroom, and lie down. Then, the fear that lives in my body about having the COVID-19 virus before we can get the vaccine transfers to the stability and safety of our country. A group of men and women without masks carrying metal pipes, chemical irritants, and other weapons are breaking windows and doors to enter the sacred halls of our country, where our Congress is meeting to certify the presidential election.

All the tasks ahead of me for the day have lost energy. My entire energy goes to fear. Our daughter, who has been in tears, soon calls. We share the news. We are powerless. We both decide to have some soul food while we try to re-center. Popcorn.

 Will our government be overturned and taken over by people rioting? They tell reporters this is only the beginning. They will be back. I see anger and fear on their faces. We both share fear. They mirror my fear.

Preparing for the Epiphany service that night slows down my fear.

I think of our guest preacher, Amy Meaux, the dean of our Cathedral. How will she prepare a homily in a few hours and bring peace out of this great tragedy? I don’t remember what she said, but I do remember feeling the strength to meet the days to come. Spoiler alert! Little did we know that in 2024, Amy would also be elected Bishop of West Missouri on the first ballot.

I go and sit quietly in St. Mark’s for over an hour before the Epiphany Service as I wait for the arrival of the Magi and their gifts. Slowly, I become less anxious. I sense that the prayers of the many people who have worshiped there in the past are calming my soul. I have put myself in a place where many before me have gone to meet God. Their prayers and their love begin to heal me.

Family Systems dynamics teach us that if we can maintain a state of having the least anxiety during any conflict or be a non-anxious presence, we will contribute to keeping any tensions from growing and eventually solve the difficulty. Unfortunately, I know few people who can remain non-anxious, for it is not a human trait.

Staying less anxious, however, is a real possibility. With Grace, we may be the least anxious presence in a situation. In that case, we can keep the arteries in our body from tightening up, taking minutes or weeks off our lifespan, pushing us to become more fearful, maybe even violent.

We can go to the place inside or outside our body where an inner and outer presence makes us calmer. There, we can become a vessel to become part of the relationship or situation that can solve any problems we encounter.

 This is my offering from that day.

Go literally or figuratively to a place of healing in the past, where you have met God, and perhaps where so many have done the same before. Sit, just sit, and be enveloped by a presence that goes by the name of love. It may not be in a place of worship. It may be by the sea where the waves’ rhythm or the sea’s stillness slows down our anxious hearts.

It may be a walk where the trees photosynthesize our energy back to love, back to a presence attributed to Julian of Norwich where “all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

So, we search for our sacred space, where we may find the strength to meet the day, reach out to others, and become the less anxious presence who can hold together in love the people of our family, our community, and our country.

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

Epiphany Remembered

Epiphany remembered

“Arise, shine; for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”—Isaiah 60:1.

ed seward

Epiphany, the revelation, the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles-us, you, and me. Christ is manifested to me almost sensuously at Epiphany. It first happened in the mid-fifties when I attended my first Episcopal service, the Epiphany Feast of Lights. I was around eleven and went to the small Virginia church in my hometown with a boyfriend and his family. I still remember the unfamiliar liturgy, the candlelight, and the haunting mystic melodies. 

As we walked out of the small-town church on that bitterly cold January night, carrying our candles, we were surprised by the winter’s first snow.  I knew that night God spoke most clearly to me through this tradition. 

 A decade later, I again encountered the beauty of the Feast of Lights at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Memphis, with their choral procession of the costumed wise men bearing their splendid gifts. Soon, we were able to bring the service to Little Rock. 

 Here in Little Rock at St. Mark’s, we again experience Epiphany’s haunting call at their evening service on January 6th. The wise men will revisit us. Our bishop often celebrates, and sometimes there is a guest preacher. Recently, it was the minister of Pulaski Heights United Methodist Church, Dr. John Robbins. There will be a choir and candlelight recessional out of the church into the dark night, which is always breathtaking.  I watch the beautiful, often familiar faces of those walking ahead of me. Their expressions seem to ask, “What will we encounter next in the night? Will this light be enough for me to see?” 

This service empowers us to think about carrying our small candle out into the world.  As the candlelight service concludes, we realize we can only see our path because of the light from so many others before, beside, and behind us.

The service should still be available online through St. Mark’s Facebook page.

I encourage those at home to have a candle by you during the service. The candle will remind all of us of Christ, the light of the world, still reaching out to us at both good and challenging times.

I would love to hear what new epiphanies come to you during this epiphany season that is so different. As the angel told the wise men in a dream, “We will be going home by a different road.”

May this new year be full of many epiphanies on new roads for you and those you love.

The wise men appeared this year at Saint Mark’s last night on Monday, January 6th, at 6 pm. We will also remember Epiphany on January 6th, 2024, with the ordination and consecration of John Harmon as the 14th bishop of Arkansas on the Feast Day of Epiphany. Today, we remember Bishop Harmon’s first year and welcome prayers for him and our diocese, especially for every Epiphany.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/