prayer cloths at St Brigid’s well, near Kildare, Ireland

Based on Genesis chapters 37, 40, and 41

 The story of Joseph and his family is so beautiful and powerful – full of the  pathos of human existence – jealousy, favouritism, greed, resentment, grief, anger, abandonment, deception, regret, broken dreams and finally, new beginnings.   Finally, an opportunity to make lemons into lemon-aide, to set aside old dreams so one can dream new dreams.

I recently saw a cartoon that had a bit of a twist on that lovely story `Footsteps’ you know, where a person reviews their life with Jesus, and where there are two sets of footprints, Jesus was walking with them, and where life was at its worst, there is one set of footprints, and the punchline is that Jesus did not abandon them, but carried them, and the footprints were his alone.

Well the new cartoon starts the same, but rather than going from two sets of footprints to one, the person sees a strange broad line in the sand.  Jesus says to the puzzled person, “That’s where I had to drag you along, kicking and screaming!”

Somehow that hits a truer note.  Much of what we go through is not what we had hoped for, dreamed of, prayed for – but it’s there in all its messiness and possibility.  And we usually go through it kicking and screaming (or is that just me!?)

In the story of Joseph being sold into slavery in Egypt, I wonder what he thought about his earlier dreams. I wonder what kept him from giving up hope. What new dreams kept him alive in the long dark night? What new songs did God sing to his heart?

 On our recent trip to Ireland, Jim and I, along with the other pilgrims learned about St. Brigid, who is right up there with St. Patrick, when it comes to being revered by the Irish folk.  Brigid was born in Ireland in 453 CE, eight years before St. Patrick died.   She, along with Patrick and other early Christian leaders, nicely blended the rituals and practices of the pre-existent Celtic spirituality with the gospel.  They had a sense of the sacredness of all of creation, and found the holy in the common.  They saw trees for example, as holy and valuable, simply for being alive, and not what they could extract by cutting them down.

When we visited St. Brigid’s well, there was a tree nearby and its branches were covered in ribbon and strips of cloth.  The cloth represented the prayers of people who had come to pray at the well.  Some call the strips of cloth St Brigid’s mantle.

I tell you all this, because it got me thinking about the mantle, the cloak that Joseph’s brothers took back to their father, torn and bloodied, and precious.  Do you suppose he threw it away?  Did he hold it to his heart, as if to hold his beloved son?  Did he tuck it away so no one could take it from him?

As Joseph’s mantle has been torn and bloodied, and his father is left grieving, and believing the worst, are there times in your life when it seems all you have is shredded pieces of your former dream?

Are there still some dear dreams that have been shoved to the back of the drawer or filing cabinet in your brain or heart?  What are these dreams/prayers saying to you?  How will you respond?

What effect does attitude have toward what we have experienced?  What helps us come from despair and grief to a sense of new beginnings, to seeing that nothing is wasted, even in the tattered vision of our former dreams?

A few years ago, I heard this beautiful song by Ian Thomas called `Grateful.’  There’s a line in it that says, “You can’t go back to change one thing – it all might come undone.  You could end up on the losing side of battles you’ve already won.” I wonder if that’s how Joseph eventually saw things.

I wonder if we do.  Ian’s sense of gratitude for the full spectrum of life is contagious, and so I share that song with you now…     

Song: Grateful 

Some luck in my sails, success where some have failed,

Troubles I’ve just made it through, Once in a while a room with a view

One who says she loves me best I have even put that to the test

Some hope with my regret and a whole lot of grateful

A whole lot of grateful in me, A whole lot of grateful in me

You can’t go back to change one thing, it all might come undone

You could end up on the losing side of battles you’ve already won. 

Yeah, there’s a whole lot of grateful.

Found me some happiness in the middle of my restlessness

Life is one big wonderful mess, things work out eventually

Still paying for stupid things I’ve said, I’ve seen compliments go to my head

It’s funny how this road has led to a whole lot of grateful

A whole lot of grateful in me, A whole lot of grateful in me

You can’t go back to change one thing, it all might come undone

You could end up on the losing side of battles you’ve already won. 

Yeah, there’s a whole lot of grateful.

 A whole lot of grateful in me, a whole lot of grateful in me

One who says she loves me best, some hope with my regret

Friends I love like family, even when they say what don’t suit me

There’s a whole lot of grateful, so many reasons to be grateful,

A whole lot of grateful… in me.

(words and music by Canadian musician Ian Thomas – 2007)

 …At the beginning of the service I invited people to take a strip of cloth and hold it during the worship service.  Then during the prayers of the people, I invite them to think of their hopes, dreams, or prayers for themselves, others, the world – to name then aloud or in silence, as they hold their prayer cloth.  We then went to the back yard and hung our prayers in the huge cedar tree that stands at the entrance to the labyrinth.  Eldon, aged 3 and ½ said, as we were returning to the sanctuary, “That was fantastic!”  🙂