NMIPL IN THE NEWS

(The following is a column that Sister Joan Brown, executive director of New Mexico El Paso Region IPL, wrote for the Gallup Independent newspaper on the weekend of June 18-19)

We are visited by owls in our neighborhood each night — six of them. A number of neighbors gather sometimes, standing in the middle of the street greeting them as they fly and land upon dead branches, their heads turning and searching.

Last night, I was visited by a female opera singer at 3 am. Her distant, hauntingly beautiful voice accompanied me for several hours in my neighborhood where dogs bark and the roosters begin the day early. Opera is not the usual music we hear amidst street racing, rap and rancheros — but it began in Italy as a way to tell the dramatic stories of life of the ordinary people.

In some Christian denominations, now is the Sunday scripture cycle of “Ordinary Times.” The stories are told of Jesus living among his people. As I reflect upon our times, the owls, the opera and the fires, drought, pollution, and climate disruption paired with many other challenges like economic disparity and inflation – these are not ordinary times. Many voices wake and call to us in the night.

The writer of Psalm 102, often called a Psalm of Affliction, echoes our feelings of being overwhelmed in a time of crisis seeing ruins and feeling at a loss, desiring to be understood. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof.

We long for not only comfort in our times, but wisdom and community. In Psalm 102 the owl is lonely among the ruins and her call echoes in the night. She reminds us that death and destruction can be invitations to transformation with keen eyes to see and “Whoever has ears, let them hear.” Matt, 13:9.

The author Duane Elgin, offers in his book, “Choosing Earth: Humanity’s Journey of Initiation Through Breakdown and Collapse to Mature Planetary Community,” an invitation to open our eyes to the call for institutional change, including religious institutions in light of growing grief and suffering on Earth.

In the introduction, Francis Weller writes, “We are living in turbulent times on this beautiful planet.” The health and well-being of any time is a reflection of our souls. “A soul that is awake is entangled with the living world — its beauty, allure, and wonder, its sorrows, rips, and tears. Given the state of the world and our soulful lives, we must pause and ask, “What is the condition or our souls?’” He later reflects, “Grief will be the keynote for the foreseeable future. Our ability to stay present to this tidal wave of loss depends on our capacity to cultivate this essential skill. We must take up an apprenticeship with sorrow.”

The Psalmists and Jesus can assist us with an “apprenticeship with sorrow” in authentic ways that lead to deeper spiritual maturity, community and action for the Common Good. Ultimately our souls and bodies can only live in ever challenging times if we are rooted deeply in whatever spiritual or religious path we choose. Spiritual grounding is essential for us now. We can begin to hold that which makes our hearts break as we recognize the beauty and that we walk in community.

Ultimately it is the journey of Love that allows us to enter grief and reality. We love our family members, and neighbors who suffer. We love the creatures going extinct. We love the forests burning. We love the rivers who only see the water of our tears. We love the lands and air that are polluted. Our loving is the measure of our grief and our commitment to action. Robin Wall Kimmerer in “Braiding Sweetgrass,” writes, “If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.” This past week, I and some other faith leaders traveled to Southeast New Mexico to be in solidarity with frontline communities trying to address health and environmental concerns in the oil and gas area of the Permian Basin where it was 110 degrees. We heard stories from our neighbors about concerns for the water and air and their health and that of their children. We cried witnessing their stories and the devastated lands. We prayed for healing for this state that we love. We know new ways to act and advocate for clean, air, water and for the health of our neighbors.

Our lives as people of faith can be like the woman opera singer at 3 a.m. telling her dramatic story for others to hear. Our lives as people of faith can be like the cry of the owl to transformation amidst destruction. Our lives as people of faith can be like the Psalmist and Jesus who faced the difficult yet were strengthened by an ever-present God of Justice, Beauty, and Love.

“If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.”