In the breaking of bread, we acknowledge our presence together at the table. We share a meal of life’s staff. We look into each others’ eyes and watch each others’ hands. We take and receive. Through the 2010 Festival, we took and ate. We were given bread for the journey in food, in word, and in image. Together at table we prayed:
God, you encircle us with your love. You gather us under your wings, and call us each to serve, to love, to nurture. You create safe spaces where we can find refuge. You work through us, offering your love among us. We meet you now in this space, with our minds, voices, bodies, and spirits.
God of bright beginnings, create within us new spaces for love. You know us intimately, the losses we face: with children and loved ones, marriages fractured, friendships damaged, ministries wounded. Heal our brokenness; renew our hope and trust. May the stories we share around these tables bring love and healing. We celebrate this moment together where bread is shared and love is found. Amen.
We know that we are changed by food, by word, and by image. What we taste stays with us. Our bodies take the nourishment and use those good nutrients to give us energy and life. The words we use and hear move us. We are moved at times from ignorance to understanding, from understanding to pondering, from pondering to action. As ministers we meditate on the word, mingling our voice with the Spirit, until the voice is one and we speak in ways that others can hear. Sometimes we speak the very words we need to hear as we preach, teach, and craft our writing. What we see alters our perceptions and brings us to reality. When we see a child dirty and hungry. When we see the facade of a sister who is weary and worn. When we see through the lies to the truth, but can’t get there in time to bring light to that truth. When we hold hands with one who is at death’s doorstep, or hug a mother whose child has died. These images stick with us, they move us into a greater sense of God’s presence in and among us.
When Lynda Weaver-Williams spoke of Susannah and her plight, integrating the story of Precious and Artemisia Gentileschi, hearts turned from the weaving of these stories to women around the globe who are fighting, who are kicking, who are screaming for justice. Sometimes those screams have no audible voice, but they are felt with every fiber of being. The silent screams are heard and felt. They reverberate around the globe and they reach God’s ears. Those kicks are the kicks of the oppressor, kicking the life out of the women and children of Sudan, Cuba, Haiti, of the war-torn streets and the spaces of deforestation (or rape of the land). Where among us are the voices?
Inspired by Feast, women have committed to praying for their sisters, mothers, aunts, children known and unknown. When we awaken to the voices crying out, we need not search far to hear them. Open the door to hear your neighbor verbally assaulted on her front lawn. Look out the window to see how snack bags replace a serving of vegetables. As we awaken, we move gently into the world. A fresh loaf of bread is given, less the plastic wrap and twist tie to a neighbor. A woman sits on a couch and shares the story of an abusive relationship. A mother is embraced after her child’s life has been smothered by cancer. Where are we among these voices?
Speak, sister. Speak to yourself. Speak to God. Speak to your colleague. Speak, sister. Use your voice. Know your voice. Know that your voice is good and strong and meant to be used. Speak, sister. Speak to God who is present. Speak through stillness and rest. Speak through signs and sermons. Speak in a shared meal. Speak through bread. Speak in your art and creativity. Speak, sister. Speak.