As I said in worship the week after my ordination, I didn’t just get ordained on March 6th, I got myself “Saved!” Truly. I was born again in and of the abundant love that filled the All Souls sanctuary, and filled every heart within it, and just kept pouring and pouring into me, long after my heart had overflowed. Now, what does it mean to be “saved” when you happen to already believe everyone already is?! All Souls poet Mia Wright would call it the gift of remembering what the soul already knows. And she reminded me that my ministry is nothing less than that holy work of reminding others of this… opening my soul in an invitation to fragile hearts and forgetful souls to recall the truth and be rekindled – “love will dance us back to ourselves.”
But Mia was far from alone in the ministry of holy reminding that both saved me and called me anew into my ministry. And among these dear reminderers was my dear brother from Harvard Div days, the truly wondrously a-typical, Rev. Erik Resly, founder of the Sanctuaries D.C. —a soulful community that’s empowering creative people to claim their own spiritual voice and collaborate on artistic projects that promote social change. Erik has always been a holy reminding friend and colleague to me on this journey. Whenever we get together Erik doesn’t just hear my voice, he hears me into my voice, and my truth. And he’s granted me the gift of being able to witness, encourage and participate in his own ridiculously inspiring unfolding. I wanted to hear Erik sing the song of his soul because… well, I love his soul’s song! And because I know it always reminds my soul to sing my own song anew. But his message… well, it blew my heart and mind wide open in a way, even knowing Erik as well as I do, caught me wonderfully off guard.
Listen to this man’s voice friends. And don’t be surprised if you find yourself adding your own… and listening in a whole new way.
– Rev. Dave, Assistant Minister, All Souls, Tulsa
And here are the Words by Mia Wright, written for the occasion…
There is a pathway,
winding and fluid,
that leads every human
to the Soul of the World,
to the infinite source,
to our own fragile hearts.
You are not a leader;
you are a reminder.
For every life you touch,
you stand at the mouth
of that winding path.
Stand. Hold in your palm
the sacred song of silence
and remind us.
We are broken bodies
and ragged, throbbing hearts.
Remind us of how we leapt up once –
how we danced and cried,
became irresistible to God
in our flawed joyousness.
We do know. The knowledge writhes quietly beneath the strained muscles of our living and we forget. Often.
Use your voice to
open that tattered gate of truth,
help us to recall
how we celebrated once –
celebrated everything and nothing –
how we swelled as
God stepped into us
and made a swaying worship
of the Earth.
The pathway to our hearts
looks so foreign when are
crumbled,
we listen to the wind blow cold through the holes in us…
Do not bother being our leader.
In these moments of sorrowed forgetting, only open wide
your singing soul to us.
The memory will flood in through the wounds,
a deep honey of healing.
Love will dance us back to ourselves,
our feet will rediscover the steps
not because you led,
but because you reminded.
God bless the holy whisper
of the reminders.
