Dear Five O' Clock Friends,

Tomorrow we celebrate one of my most favorite days of the year--Dia de los Muertos.  The nave comes alive with pictures of those we love but see no longer.  For a moment, that silent cloud of witnesses, our fellow members of the communion of saints, is no longer silent.  We hear them speak across a vast divide. 

Yesterday, I spent some time at St. Michael's.  First I stood before the ofrenda.  There, directly behind the altar, were pictures of those long-time members of St. Michael's who have died--Ruth Fluke her head tilted just as it was when she was listening intently; Barbara Carrington whose warm smile and gracious ways ushered many newcomers into St. Michael's; Ralph Carrington--I still remember the dignified way he carried the plate when he was ushering.  There were no pictures of Juanita and Ellis Roper.  That's okay.  I carry their pictures in my head and heart.  

I slipped into the pew I used to share with Ellis and Juanita (the second one from the back on the left side as you face the altar).  There I sat--but not in silence.  Ellis's warm southern drawl echoed through the years and Juanita's stories punctuated the silent space.  Then one of you joined me in the silence.  There we were together--past, present and future joined before the altar.  Each holding separate stories; each joining in our shared story.

Today, as I select the pictures I will bring to our ofrenda, I find myself remembering those whom I love but see no longer--both those who have died in the last year and those long gone.  I sort through the pictures, pick them up, hold them for a moment, remember the ways we are connected with one another, and recall a story of our shared life.  In that moment the grace of those who are no longer here with me in this life casts a warm light.  We are together once again.

Tomorrow, please bring a picture to place on our ofrenda.   And bring a dish to share as well.  Maybe even a dish your loved one loved.  Remember--it's the last Sunday of the month and that's the day we share two meals together.

In gratitude for all of you and for all who have shaped your life,

Susan+

Dear Five O' Clock Friends,

So often I find myself (and hear others too) saying,

"I'm starving."  
"I'm famished."  
"I haven't had a bite to eat for ages."  
"I'm so hungry I could eat anything."

And yet our fridge is not empty.  Our cupboards are not bare.  There's plenty of food in our pantry.  

The same cannot be said of many of our neighbors.  New Mexico has the second highest food insecurity rate in the country.  (One out of every five New Mexicans suffers from food insecurity.)  Daily, people in our community and throughout the state skip meals in order to pay the rent, buy the gas, get the medicine they need, have food for their children.  To make ends meet and to fill their bellies, our fellow New Mexicans turn to food pantries like Casa San Miguel and free meals like those served six days a week at St. Martin's Hospitality Center.  Often that bag of groceries or that hot meal makes the difference between being famished and being fed.   The food you bring each week and place in the basket at the altar and the food you serve every other month on Sundays at St. Martin's makes a real difference in the lives of the people in our community.  

Not long ago, one of my friends from St. Martin's gave me a call.  His monthly bus pass had run out.  His fridge was empty.  His EBT (food stamp) card was out of funds.  He needed a ride to St. Martin's and maybe some help with groceries to carry him through to the end of the month.  That call underscored for me the importance of the feeding work we do.  

That call also shifted the way I heard the Gospel message.  It made me take another look at those feeding stories.  I'd always read them as miracle stories demonstrating Jesus' power or the power unleashed in Jesus' presence.  But after getting that phone call, I began to wonder.  Could it be that hunger was as pressing a need in Jesus' day as it is in our own?  Is it possible that when Jesus says "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness" he's talking about those who demand a righteousness that insures that all who are hungry are fed?

Not long after I started at St. Martin's, I encountered a family with four kids.  The mother and the kids lived at Joy Junction.  The father shared a room with his brother.  He didn't dare bring his kids to his place.  His brother was deeply into drugs.  When I sat down to talk with him, his eyes were flooded with tears.  He said to me, "I'm not sure we can keep the kids. This is no way for them to grow up."  He went on to say, "I'm such a failure as a father."  In my naivete I responded by saying, "It's so clear you love your kids."  What he needed was concrete help--help in getting a job, help in getting a place for his family, help in feeding his kids.  Help so that he could be the dad he wanted to be.

Painted on the outside wall of St. Martin's are scenes from Matthew 25: 35. Over each scene are words from that Gospel passage. 

Teresa of Avila once wrote:
        "Christ has no body but yours"
         No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
        Yours are the eyes with which he looks
        Compassion on this world,
        Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
        Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world....
        Christ has no body now on earth but yours."

This Sunday, Live at Five will be that body of Christ, as we worship with, are blessed by and serve our brothers and sisters in the Congregation of St. Martin's.  We start early (worship at 8:00 a.m., kitchen duty at 7:30).  See you at St. Martin's at 1201 Mountain NW this Sunday.

Susan+

Dear Five O'Clock Friends,
 
Tomorrow we celebrate the Feast of St. Francis, our patronal saint.  We do this outside on the meadow east of the Parish Hall. At the close of the day, we gather in the center of creation surrounded by our animal friends.  We give thanks for the goodness of God; we give thanks for the faces of God reflected in those by whose side we stand and in those we hold in our arms; and we give thanks for the world around us.  We'll sing the words of Saint Francis as we sing the Canticle of the Sun.  And then we'll do a blessing of the animals who show us the face of God.
 
At it's core, blessing is the acknowledgment of a relationship, a tie that binds.  "Blessed be God" we say as we begin our worship. We're acknowledging the relationship that links us to God.  Jacob wouldn't let that stranger go until he received a blessing recognizing the relationship between him and that Holy stranger.
Each Sunday, we close our worship with a declaration of God's blessing, an affirmation that we are God's beloved children.
 
Tomorrow, we'll declare God's blessing on those animals who are so much a part of our lives.  It's a blessing filled with gratitude.
Be sure to bring a picture of those animals who are or who have been a blessing to you.  As part of our offering, we'll carry those pictures to the altar.  
 
In gratitude for the many ways God's goodness is revealed in God's creation.
 
Susan+