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A Few Words From Pastor Bryan
And Jan Richardson...
Jan Richardson is a Methodist clergywoman, artist, retreat leader, and writer. I've been familiar with her work for a few years, but more recently have been reading a book of "blessings" that she wrote called The Cure For Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief.
Jan's husband Garrison Doles, a singer/songwriter, died very suddenly and unexpectedly in 2013. Somehow, by the grace of God, Jan was able to go deeply into her own profound grief, stay there as long as she knew she needed to, and then also find and share gifts given in that crucible with the rest of us.
The Cure For Sorrow is a collection of what she calls "blessings." Each one is a poem of sorts, and most of them are framed within the context of Scripture verses or references. I've been sharing some of them with our morning Devotion group.
Of the blessings from this book that I've read so far, the one I'm sharing with you here is one of my favorites. Jan is a gifted theologian for sure, but what I appreciate so much about her is how human and real she is. In fact to me she and her art and writing are like an antedote to the shallow, trite, pious chiches that are often tossed out by well meaning people who are trying to be helpful to someone who has suffered a great loss. More times than not, the things people tend to say, you know, like "God must have needed another angel--that's why God took your loved one," or "Everything happens for a reason," "God won't give you more than you can handle," or "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved," are meant well, but they contain messages and implications that are problematic at best. Sometimes it's just that these things are said at the wrong time. Often they are lousy theology altogether, because they aren't really "True."
Well Jan Richardson would have none of that. So she gave us blessings like this one. I hope you find it meaningful.
I look forward to seeing you soon one way or the other...
Pastor Bryan
The Sweetness That Remains
(Orange Blossom Honey Blessing)
By Jan Richardson
To give you this blessing,
first I will need to tell you
about the woman who,
at the reception after
my husband’s service,
handed me a jar of
orange blossom honey
on which she had written
the words,
The sweetness remains.
Then I will need to tell you how,
for nearly every morning of my life,
I have had orange blossom honey
with my breakfast.
I will need to tell you how
I grew up among orange trees,
how the scent of their blossoms
is emblazoned in my memory,
how their honey is my favorite.
My friend could not have known this
when she brought orange blossom honey
to my husband’s funeral.
Nor could she have known that,
nine months later, I would find
a secret scrap on which
he had begun a song for me.
Orange blossom honey
Sweetest honey in the world
Oh my orange blossom honey
Orange blossom honey girl
I can tell you
the sweetness that remains
is not a saccharine sweetness.
It is not refined.
It is not sugary or cloying.
It is not without substance.
The sweetness that remains
Is terrible and wild.
The sweetness that remains
is the honey Jacob ate
from the crags of desert stones.
The sweetness that remains
In the honey Samson took
From the carcass of the lion
He had torn apart with his own hands.
The sweetness that remains
is the honey God longed to bring
out of the rocks for the wandering
children of Israel.
The sweetness that remains
is the honey John the Baptist
devoured with his locusts
in the wilderness.
Difficult sweet.
Painful sweet.
Hard-won sweet.
Desolate sweet.
Sweet that comes
to you in the desert.
Sweet that comes
to you from stones.
Sweet that lives
In the places of death.
Sweet that makes a home
In the wreck of you heart.
Did I say I would give you this blessing?
What I meant is that
you will need to tear this blessing apart
to get to the sweet.
You will need to break it open
to get to the sweet.
To get to the sweet,
you will need to turn toward
the death that stalks you.
To get to the sweet,
you will need to enter
the wilderness that calls you.
Here, look:
in the crag of the stone,
in the bones of the lion,
in the deep of the rock,
in the heart of the wilderness—
honey flowing through.
Take this blessing.
The sweetness remains.
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