Bellwether Farm ~ Wakeman, OH
“On a day when the world is weighty,
dark and dense with need,
I want to be the earthworm
that gives itself over to tunneling,
its every movement an act
of bringing spaciousness.”
I’m not sure how a poem about earthworms has whispered beauty and hope to me over the past couple of months. While I do love earthworms and have been known to walk the streets in my neighborhood post-rainstorm trying to rescue earthworms from a middle-of-the-road wiggling demise; I may be attracted to these words from the poem Lumbricus Terrestris by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer because they remind me of you all—this dispersed community we call Bethany and the ways that we practice together.
I am deeply troubled in heart, mind and body, echoing the pastoral expressions and stories shared during Bethany retreats, Zoom meetings, worship services and calls about what is happening in our country to the most vulnerable among us and to the communities we serve.
We are bearing witness to the fracturing not only of our cities, states and country, but we are also noticing how the pressures and challenges are impacting trusted leaders, grounded collaborators, and circles of trust. Our own thoughts and actions may be more susceptible to reactivity and negativity than ever before.
On a day when the world is weighty indeed.
And yet even in the midst of the darkness and density we are reminded to give ourselves over to bring spaciousness.
To bring porosity (I now love this word) to compacted, compressed places. You know this way. This space-making. This breath-taking way of listening deeply to colleagues and God, nature and your own bodies, histories and contexts. Just last month, Bethany Fellows on retreat in Ohio and Bethany Congregations retreating via Zoom and their leaders practiced again what we collectively know—that somehow God shows up in the midst of the tiniest expressions of spaciousness.
In the breathing, the listening, the praying, the worshipping, the celebrating, the wisdom seeking, the grounding in nature, the dancing with art and brilliant conversations, in the sharing of good food and soul-stirring song, in eye-watering laughter and wet-faced sorrow.
I am so grateful that you all have taught me faithful ways to live in the weighty parts of life. May we find our way toward spaciousness, toward porosity, making room, slowly attending to God and one another even during these difficult days.
~Reverend Scott Hardin-Nieri, Co-Director and Pastor
