Prairie Musings

John Singer Sargent, The Frieze of the Prophets-West Wall Zephaniah, Joel, Obadiah, and Hosea  While Jesus was standing there, he cried out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water’ (John 7:37b-38b).  Would that all the LORD's people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them! (Numbers 11:29b) I look around me today, and I see an epidemic of thirst. There is a thirst to escape these times of quarantine and loneliness; a thirst for compassion and for a common understanding of truth and values; a thirst for visionary and compassionate leadership; a thirst for meaningful and fairly-compensated work; a thirst for justice. We are parched and withered, and maybe afraid that this drought leaves us vulnerable to the possibility of some sort of fiery destruction. Today, on the Feast of Pentecost, Jesus offers us living w

In the Epistle this week, we heard: But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9). The theme of darkness and light, which is most often part of the narratives of Advent and Lent, is still much in my thoughts in these days. At the same time there are so many images and stories of heroism and deep compassion, there seems to be an equal number of incomprehensible images and stories of violence, selfish arrogance, and lack of compassion. Sometimes I feel like my psyche is roiling up and down in an ocean storm, from high to low. One thing in all this stands out for me with simple clarity: we need each other. I cannot care for the sick; I cannot research a vaccine; I cannot stock my grocery shelves; I cannot ranch, transport, and slaughter cattle; I cannot harvest wheat and grind flour. It is clear in this time of isolati