Peace

It's been pretty quiet around here since November! Winter was brutal, and the cold is still hanging in the air.  I didn't plan this hiatus from blogging, but creativity crawled right into the hibernation cave with me! I'm still not convinced that it's safe to come out. Did you know that it snowed again in Chicago yesterday? We're aching for spring.

It is Holy Week. I will be spending most of my evenings surrounded by musicians in this place, raising songs of lament and protest with the people of God. This colorful cathedral housed a Polish Catholic congregation for many years; now a motley group of Presbyterians calls it home.

On Maundy Thursday, we will sing, "peace is my last gift to you," and tremble at the betrayal which so suddenly slit flesh from bone. On Good Friday, our hearts will grow dark as we remember the stripes, the stalking demons, the simultaneous rage and silence of God. 

Peace is my last gift to you
My own peace I now leave with you
Peace which the world cannot give
I give to you

In this sanctuary we sit and speak to the darkness, clinging to the hope that, on Sunday morning, it will be safe to come out.