Dear friends and members of University UMC:
Julian of Norwich lived in the Middle Ages and through the Black Plague. She was known for saying, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” Many people from a variety of faith backgrounds have clung to her words. In difficult seasons, they act as a sort of mantra, moving us to a place of peace and hope. Those words have long been a part of my prayer practice. They are words I share with others who are going through times of sorrow or when they are anxious about the future.
I have something to confess. On some days, I have a hard time believing that all shall be well. When the mass shooting in Maine occurred last week, media outlets were quick to remind us there have been more mass shootings than there have been days this year. The weather and climate continues to change, causing worry and alarm. The Russo-Ukrainian war rages on. And for almost a month, we have watched in horror and fear as Hamas attacked southern Israel and as Israel responds with counter attacks in Gaza.
“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
Really?
Recently, I found a piece of artwork that reminded me of these words from Norwich. But these words were a little different and seemed more capable of holding space for both hope and doubt. You can find the art below. It reads: “When I cannot say all is well or all is known, help me say all is held so I never believe all is lost.”
Being able to hold two seemingly paradoxical sentiments simultaneously is part of how I survive in the world today. Sometimes, I feel as if my faith is strong and I can easily proclaim that all will indeed be well. Other times, I worry and doubt. One day, I am overcome with despair. Another, I’m filled with hope. One minute, I feel peaceful inside and within moments, I feel chaotic. In the morning, I’m crying with friends about the weight of the world’s news and by evening, I’m delighting in pictures of my nephew dressed up for Halloween. To feel seemingly conflicting emotions within a matter of hours doesn’t mean you’re crazy. It means you’re human. And to find yourself thinking, “well, there’s this, but then there’s that,” doesn’t mean you’re wishy-washy. It means you’re alive and faithfully paying attention.
When it comes to the complexity of the situation in Gaza, I find myself ill equipped to comment with great authority. There is so much I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m suspicious of voices on the extremes who seem incapable and unwilling to acknowledge the inhumanity that comes with war and the staggering death toll. I believe a person can condemn the terrorist attack by Hamas while at the same time being sympathetic to the plight of Palestinians. I believe one can condemn the ongoing attacks in Gaza by Israel without being anti-Semitic. I believe it is true that the state of Israel has been the place where people of the Jewish faith have finally felt a sense of safety and home following the Holocaust. And that belief doesn’t mean I cannot hold concern for the great number of Palestinian children who have died in recent days.
Recently I read a sermon by Rev. Munther Isaac entitled “God is Under the Rubble in Gaza.” Isaac is the pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem, and his sermon was one of lament and anger as he faces the reality of death and destruction. I want to believe that all shall be well. And many days I do. But there are other days. And in those moments, I pray all who live in places of fear and terror are held by the powerful love of God. I trust the God who created the heavens and the earth cradles each life lost in violence and war.
This weekend, we celebrate All Saints Sunday and the atmosphere feels thick with sorrow and grief. If you find yourself deep in despair, know there is nothing wrong with you. If you hear of others feeling sad, but find yourself enjoying a moment of pleasure or joy, soak it up. Give thanks for those moments and feel alive rather than guilt. If you find yourself oscillating between ups and downs, good times and bad times, then know you’re human. And no matter what, trust you are held by the God of Love who holds all.
Below, I leave with you a few readings, including a quote from Rev. Dr. Isaac’s sermon, a stained glass image featuring Julian of Norwich’s famous quote as well as the image with the quote, “When I cannot say all is well or all is known, help me say all is held so I never believe all is lost.” There’s also an evening prayer I’ve often found comforting, and a Jan Richardson prayer for All Saints.
Whatever you feel, whatever you are going through, whatever season of life you find yourself experiencing - may you know that you are held by the God of Love who holds all.
What a joy to be your pastor!
Teresa
