Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, September 18, 2022.
Almost thirty years ago, I was sitting in church on a Sunday when I heard those words that were our reading today. That morning, a man named Cecil read those words by Theodore Roszak, and they cut straight to my heart:
You and I, we meet as strangers,
Each carrying a mystery within us.
I may never know who you are,
I may never know you completely.
But I trust that you are a person in your own right
possessed of a beauty and a value that are the earth's richest treasures…
Afterwards I asked Cecil to share that reading with me, and he did, and I still have that piece of paper. Several years later, when our first child was baptized in that church, Tracey and I read those words to him:
…So, I make this promise to you.
I will impose no identities upon you but will invite you
to become yourself without shame or fear.
I will hold open a space for you in the world
and defend your right to fill it with an authentic vocation
For as long as your search takes,
You have my loyalty.
I often share this reading with new folks here, because it gets to the heart of what we are trying to do here, doesn’t it? Isn’t a faith community all about reminding people of their own particular gifts and beauty, affirming them in their innate goodness and value? We are here, aren’t we, to hold open a space when you can become more truly yourself, a space for seeking and for finding, where we say, “for as long as your search takes, you have my loyalty”?
What I’m talking about is companioning—spiritual companioning—and this is key to what we do, and who we are, as a faith community. Holding open a space where you can come and be renewed and restored, where you can touch your own hopes and longings. Where you can ask the questions you’ve always wanted to ask. Where you can seek, and find, and more and more fully live into who you were born to be.
This is our theme for September—companioning—and I love that this is how we’re starting off the new church year. It’s something you are good at already—do you know that? I became even more aware of your talent for companioning when we were physically separated all those months because of Covid. We found new ways of connecting, and used some old ways too. You bundled up and visited folks, sitting on lawn chairs in their driveways, even in winter! You took part in Chalice Circles, which are a beautiful way of spiritual companioning in a small group, and are about to start up again, led this time by Tori and me. You came to the mediation group, or the reflections group, or the Wednesday morning writing group, all of them on Zoom; and you used the telephone and the postal service, to say to one another, “I see you. I am thinking of you. I am with you, even as we are apart.” You lived out the words we sang last week: “Drifting here with my ship’s companions, all we kindred pilgrim souls.” Isn’t this a core reason you come to church? To find companions for the journey, folks with whom you can share your joys and sorrows, your hopes and fears?
You could say that’s it’s simply part of being a good person to reach out in care and concern for others. We are meant to be in relationship with one another, and there are plenty of places and ways this still happens. But from what I can see, people are hungry for connection and companioning. There’s so much loneliness and isolation and fragmentation these days, so much mistrust. You can have plenty of friends on Facebook, but if you don’t have a companion, a soul friend, then I wonder if you’ll feel that something is missing.
Twenty-five years ago the Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue wrote a beautiful book called Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom. Anam Cara is Gaelic for “soul friend,” and this is what the early Celtic church called someone who acted as a teacher, companion, or spiritual guide—a soul friend. John O’Donohue wrote:
“With the anam cara you could share your inner-most self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an anam cara, your friendship cut across all convention, morality, and category… This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship.”
(Here’s a link to an online reflection on anam cara that’s quite good.)
This art of belonging fostered a deep and special companionship. Do you know what John O’Donohue is talking about? It’s what comes when you are deeply listened to, when you are seen for who you are, when you don’t have to pretend to be other than you are. This kind of spiritual companionship is comfortable with silence, with uncertainty, with mystery. It’s simple, really. But it requires the ability to be present. It takes time, and attention. Which can seem rare in our fast-moving, multi-tasking world.
A different version of this companioning happens in our worship here, when you come forward and light candles and share your joys and sorrows. And we are also companioning when, after the prayer, folks come forward and light candles silently, and the rest of us quietly bear witness. I sometimes think those moments are the heart of our worship (borrowed from Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk).
What I want to do today is lift up this simple and humble vocation of companioning. It’s such a quiet and unassuming act that you may be doing it without even noticing. But I wonder if that’s possible—because being a soul friend takes time and attention and care and love. It takes some levels of self-awareness. I don’t think it happens by accident.
If you want to develop this capacity within yourself, you might want to check out the different ways we offer here to practice this kind of openhearted presence: there’s the mediation group here on Tuesdays at 7, and the reflections group, meeting on Sundays after worship and online on the third Wednesday of the month at 7 pm, there’s the online writing group Wednesdays as 8 am, and I’d say the AA groups we host on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday nights offer a vital kind of companioning too.
And if this sounds like something that’s missing in your life, if you are seeking a soul friend, I hope and trust that this church will help you find this kind of companion. There are the groups I’ve mentioned already, and there are other ways and practices you could explore. There may be something new that we need to start here! Tori and I would be glad to help, and would welcome a conversation with you about this—just let one of us know if you’d like to talk.
I do believe that we each have within us longing for home, a longing for companions on our journey. I feel so blessed that you called me here, to share this journey with you, that we are spiritual companions, on the way together, all we kindred pilgrim souls.
So let us, this month and this year, be mindful of the ways we might companion, and be companioned. To that end, I offer you this blessing, these lines written by John O’Donohue (“Blessing For a New Home,” lightly adapted), in tribute and in gratitude for this place, and for the companions that you already are, and for the soul friends we are becoming:
May this be a safe place
Full of understanding and acceptance,
Where you can be as you are,
Without the need of any mask
Or pretense or image.
May this be a place of discovery,
Where the possibilities that sleep
In the clay of your soul can emerge.
To deepen and refine your vision
For all that is yet to come to birth.
May this be a house of courage,
Where healing and growth are loved,
Where dignity and forgiveness prevail;
Where patience of spirit is prized,
And the sight of the destination is never lost
Though the journey be difficult and slow.
May there be great delight in this place.
May it be a house of welcome
For the broken and diminished.
And may we have eyes to see
The no one arrives without a gift
And no one leaves without a blessing.
Now and always,
Amen.