This past Sunday the sermon was about the familiar 23 Psalm. It is beautiful in its simplicity, and in the depths and layers of meaning it holds. Several years ago I wrote about it myself, I cannot begin to count the number of messages I have heard, or read, on these few familiar verses. And every time there is something new to learn.
When I wrote on it in 2011 it was the word "through" ("Through the valley...") I was focused on.
My mom had just begun cancer treatment again and we were all terrified. We still are, but here it is 5 years later, and she's still fighting. It may not yet be the miracle we're hoping for, but it is a miracle nonetheless.
But lately, for the past several weeks, actually, I have this picture in my mind of a great, long table, covered with a rich, snowy white cloth, shimmering Irish linen. The table sits in the middle of a field of emerald green grass, waving in the summer breeze. The sky overhead is cloudless and blue. Sometimes the table is bare, waiting to be set, but I know there is fine china, heavy silver, delicate crystal to be laid in preparation. Other times the glass ware and silver gleams in the sun and the array of dishes boggles the mind. It is a banquet beyond comparison, beyond description.
We don't throw dinner parties like that any more. And it's a shame. Setting a beautiful table, serving carefully prepared dishes....what a wonderful way to honour our guests, be they family or friends. And what a reminder of the Wedding Supper we are all anticipating, such beauty and bounty beyond imagination.
This particular poem may seem rather unrelated to the feast I am describing. In fact I wrote it as something of a challenge. And yet as I wrote it I could still see that table stretching out under the summer sun.
Under a canopy of velvet blue and
satin green
On a fragrant cushions
Serenaded by redwing blackbirds,
meadowlarks and dragonflies
Kisses light as summer breezes
Let me serve you exotic nectar
from my own cup,
drink rich wine from yours
Feast on thews
The sustenance of passion
I am faint with hunger
Feed me with honeyed words
Lush fruits,
Bounty of plowing and planting
Bread and wine
And after the feast
simplest pleasures,
sweetest fare
and richest
Drift to dreams
Under a canopy of velvet blue and
dappled green
on fragrant cushions
Serenaded by blackbirds, meadowlarks
and honeybees
caressed by summer's breeze
http://viewfromhere68.blogspot.ca/2011/06/i-walk-through-valley.html
