Soma: A Fable
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Back in the days when flowers still danced and trees moved easily from one place to the next, the Great Gardener created Soma. Within Soma, she placed a collection of roses.
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At first the red and white roses milled about together. They had running races and danced in whirling circles. The roses looked around their Soma and saw nothing but other roses, and they were happy.
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Soma contained two kinds of roses, red and white. They sometimes played together, but at other times, the red roses would congregate on one side of the garden and the white roses on the other.
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The white roses looked out past Soma’s walls and saw danger. Consequently, they organized and named themselves the “Rose Guard” whose job it was to protect Soma from any invaders.
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One day a red rose was dancing exuberantly around the garden and did not see the Rose Guard line intended to keep him from straying out of Soma. He ran into one of the more vigilant members of the Rose Guard and was severely chastised. In fact the Rose Guard went so far as to pluck off some of the leaves and petals of the errant red rose.
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He was deeply hurt and retreated into the circle of red roses. When he told his story, the red roses had quite varied reactions. One said “Oh that’s just the Rose Guard for you!” Another said “How could they hurt you like that?” And yet another said “What do you expect? We’d better stay away from them.”
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And so it was that the Rose Guard gravitated toward the periphery of Soma. There they patrolled its edges. The red roses found themselves congregating in the center of the garden. And then, one day, a pink rose blossomed on the stem of a rose that had always born red flowers. The red roses exclaimed at its beauty and were in awe of its newness.
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When the Rose Guard saw the mutation, they quickly dispatched two of their best warriors to dispose of the impurity. Within moments the pink flower had been cut from the plant and flung outside of Soma.
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Deep sorrow filled the plant that had born the pink blossom and within days she shriveled up and died. The same thing happened when the next pink rose appeared and when a yellow rose was born. The Rose Guard saw it as their responsibility to prune away the errant blossoms. They did not care if the plants that had produced pink and yellow blossoms were deeply wounded. They simply saw it as their mandate to keep Soma pure and undefiled by change.
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Some of those red roses who produced alternately colored blooms were cut back so severely by the Rose Guard that they died. Others slunk off in the middle of the night, finding their way between the ranks of the Rose Guard who patrolled the periphery of Soma. These plants could not abide the attacks and decided to make their way to someplace else where they would be accepted as they were.
The pruning continued. The red rose population began to decrease. The Great Creator saw that the flowers within Soma were dwindling. The Great Gardener decided that Soma needed new life and perhaps a bit of variety, so she blew hundreds of seeds into Soma. They landed and many of them began to grow.
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The Rose Guard was furious. There were so many plants that did not belong in their beloved Soma. They were busy night and day plucking up the plants that were not roses and evicting them from the garden.
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The red roses began to encircle and protect the tender young plants. One opened its petals and a Daisy appeared. Another matured into a Purple Cone Flower, still another was a Wild Iris. Suddenly Soma was filled with Bee Balm, Sunflowers, Dahlias and Johnny Jump Ups. Soma had become a riot of colors and shapes. The red roses and wild flowers danced for joy, but the Rose Guard sharpened their thorns.
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There were too many interlopers to make a full on assault, so they decided to systematically pick off the wild flowers that came close to the Rose Guard borders, hoping that the rest of the group would not notice until they had been culled down to a size that the Rose Guard could take on in one final pruning push.
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As the dance continued, many of the Rose Guard discovered that they could no longer move. They were rooted to the ground and try as they might, they remained stationary. They could only sway in the wind. Consequently, the Rose Guard was unable to move forward with its intention of cleansing Soma of all wild flowers. They had to do their work from the shady corners of the garden.
One or two of the Rose Guard still moved about with the wild flowers and red roses. It turned out that many of the red roses had also grown old and tired. The rest had changed. Their thorns lost their edges and their blossoms grew fuller. Some of the red roses stopped dancing and planted their roots in the soil, choosing to stay in one place. Some of the red roses died of old age, and some stayed in the dancing community of wild flowers.
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The few Rose Guard members who came into the center of the garden with the others were given plenty of space because the white rose thorns had grown into long prickly appendages that felt dangerous to the wild flowers. They had seen those thorns lop off the heads of their sisters and brothers. So, naturally, they kept their distance from the white roses.
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The Great Gardener looked down at the beautiful garden filled with life and color and noticed that there were a couple of places in Soma where the other flowers would not go. They shied away from the white roses. The Great Gardener looked at the outside edge of Soma and saw an immovable row of white roses. She wrinkled her brow and wondered why they had all stopped moving. She was amazed at how long their thorns had grown, and she was even more surprised to see all the dead flowers and lopped off blossoms that littered the ground outside of Soma.
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The Great Gardener looked with sadness at what had become of her beautiful creation. When she planted the roses, she had no idea that they would turn against one another. She watched the quantity of roses diminishing, and spread a wider variety of seeds thinking that more diversity would help her garden to grow. Now she saw that her vision of a bouquet of magnificent flowers of all shapes and sizes, of all colors and smells, was not turning out as she expected.
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Yes, there were amazingly beautiful and unique wild flowers, and there were red roses with small soft thorns and large blossoms, but those flowers would not approach the white roses who had grown unusually long and sharp thorns.
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The Great Gardener pondered the situation, noting in particular the white roses that stood stiffly in the middle of the garden and the wild flowers and red roses who danced around but split apart and intentionally avoided the white roses so as to not come into contact with their thorns.
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“They need something,” the Great Gardener said to herself. She thought for a very long time and then she began to gather herbs from another garden she had grown, her Peace Garden.
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She did not know exactly how her offering would affect the flowers, but she determined to give it a try. One night while the wild flowers and some of the Rose Guard slept and others kept watch, the sentries saw an amazing scene. They saw the Great Gardener’s hand fill the sky. No one had ever seen the Great Gardener before, though there were stories that had been passed down through the ages. The Great Gardener sprinkled a mixture of herbs from the Peace Garden onto Soma, dusting all of the sleeping plants as well as the waking ones.
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The wild flowers were all touched by the Great Gardner’s concoction and they began to mellow. They still danced but their movement was less frenetic. They began to lose their fear of the Rose Guard, and some of them even bravely invited the few white roses in the middle of the garden to dance.
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That same herbal mixture had a different effect on the Rose Guard. Their thorns began to shrink and the ends to curl, so that they were no longer dangerous. The Rose Guard no longer felt compelled to cut away the part of the garden that did not conform to their ideas of what the garden should look like. Some of the Rose Guard even began to pull up their roots and move around once again.
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Some of the Rose Guard mourned the loss of their thorns. They felt like everything they had of value had been taken away from them, and they turned and walked slowly out of Soma. Others from the Rose Guard tentatively approached the red roses with whom they once had been united. They began to see the red roses not as problems that needed to be plucked from the garden, but as integral pieces of Soma. It was a bit harder to see the wild flowers in this way, but many of the Rose Guard, after taking in the Great Gardener’s peace offering, were able to reconnect and reintegrate with a completely new Soma than the one they always thought they were protecting.
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It took a long time, but the wild flowers and the red roses came to love and include the Rose Guard, and the white roses began to let down their guard. What happened to the Rose Guard members who chose not to be integrated into the garden, I cannot say. But those who stayed became part of the great bouquet of life that was Soma.
This fable was written during Contemplative Spiritual Direction Training at the Alcyon Center. It was inspired by those dealing with auto immune diseases, but can represent many different layers of our world.
Standing Stones
God speaks to us in the quiet of our dreams, in the images that come to us in meditation and prayer, and as we step out in faith to follow. This is an image that I experienced during a guided meditation. I share it with you as we prepare to celebrate Holy Week and Easter because it encouraged me on my own journey. I hope that it brings blessing to each of you.
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I walked through a tangled wood, aware that my destination lay down the path in front of me. At first I could see nothing but the well-trodden ground and a thick forest all around. Soon the trees began to thin and I heard the sound of rushing water. I topped a rise and there, before me, was a valley. On the horizon lay my goal: a tremendous rock. The bottom of the valley held a rushing river which cut me off from the place I knew I must go.
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There was nothing else to do but pick my way down the rocky slope to the water’s edge. The path disappeared. It seems that many had come to the river and turned around, retreating down the same path by which they had come. Looking back, it became clear that I couldn’t turn around. I had to go on. Scrambling down the slope, I heard stones fall away at my feet, tumbling down and splashing into the water.
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The current was treacherous. There would be no wading across this rushing river. I stood on the bank and prayed: “What do I do now? I can’t go forward. I can’t go back. I can’t go around.” The voice I heard offered not words, but a feeling: “Be still and wait. There will be a way.” I stood at the edge of the water feeling frustrated and despairing that I would reach the rock on the horizon.
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It was a long while before the worries dissipated and I found myself waiting, not in desperation, but in anticipation. Before me in the water was one large stone protruding from the river. The waves licked the edges of the rock, but there was a place I could stand if I stepped out onto the stone.
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Instead of thinking about what would happen next, I jumped from the shore to the single stone in the water. It was not an easy step forward. It was a leap of faith. Once on the stone, there was nowhere else to go. I was only a short distance from shore and there were no more stepping stones to take me to the far side.
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It was a ridiculous move, and yet I had been compelled to leap out onto the rock. Once there, I had nothing to do but to stand and wait. The water churned around me. I felt the spray on my legs, my hands, my face. Something was changing. The current shifted and before me appeared a second stone peeking out of the water. It was flat and wet. Not too close, but not too far away.
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Without considering the implications, I leapt from the first stone to the second. This put me well out into the water and yet what seemed an insurmountable distance from the far shore. I stood on the wet rock, looking back to the dry one I just left and to my shock, the first rock was gone. I was stranded on a stone in the middle of the river. They way back was no longer an option, yet there was no clear path in front of me.
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What was there to do but wait? I waited. I prayed. I asked God for guidance. I went through renewed feelings of panic and fear, and then, very slowly, the worries began to drain away. I was left standing on a solitary stone surrounded by a river with a dangerously strong current. I stood. Waiting was difficult and yet it was all that I could do. Again, the current changed and a third stone began to emerge from the white frothy waves. Knowing that the second stone would disappear when I moved onward to the third, I stepped out. Sure enough, the stone I left was covered first with spray, then with waves, and then it disappeared completely.
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After the third stone appeared, I began to realize that if I waited, if I had faith that God would direct my feet, a fourth stone would eventually be uncovered. I had no idea how long I would wait. It because clear that if I stood on that stone long enough and waited for God, a way would appear.
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The journey was not so much about reaching my destination, the rock on the horizon, but instead, it was about standing and waiting, and stepping out, knowing that the way back would be gone forever.
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As we venture into Holy Week, we realize that as Jesus entered Jerusalem, he trod on dangerous ground. He stepped out into the river, knowing that the way behind him would be cut off. He stood and waited, asking the disciples to wait with him. As stones were uncovered, he stepped forward, knowing that they led to the rock on the horizon. He must have known that the rock was a tomb.
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He followed the stepping stones toward his enemies, knowing that he would not be swept away, that he would remain firmly on the standing stones because he trusted in God. The stones led him to a place he would not have chosen. He prayed that the cup might pass from him, but also gave himself over to death if that was what was to come.
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When I stood on those standing stones in the river, I didn’t know that the rock on the far horizon was a tomb, but I do now. I followed those stones to the far shore and made my way eventually to the rock on the horizon. It was a tomb, an empty tomb.
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Knowing that Christ passed this way, filled the tomb and then was raised, did not make the discovery of the tomb any easier. My journey led to a place of death. It was only coming face to face with death that I could see the empty tomb for what it is. The empty rock hewn tomb is a promise of new life and hope.
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As we journey through our lives and into Holy Week, may we stand and wait and step out trusting that we will be let toward resurrection. Alleluia. Amen!
This piece was originally written as a newsletter article published just before Holy Week.
Autumn God,
Colors galore, crispness of Spirit, prepare our hearts.
Encourage change in us that we may trust in your word and let go.
Winter God,
Cuddle us by the hearth,
Surround us as we hunker down.
Send us out into snow storms and dazzle us with diamond-like drips from icy branches.
Spring God,
Entice from us tender sprouts.
Coax our leaves up from rich soil.
Gently shine on us as we bud and bloom bringing beauty to the world.
Summer God,
Grow in us that we may bear much fruit.
Beat in our hearts like the ocean waves,
Proclaim through us your new and ever-changing presence.
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What Happened in the Tomb?
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Deep in the earth, a cave, dark and cool. A grave for the one who spoke truth to power, the one who embodied love, the one who taught us to live as children of God.
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Deep in the earth on a rocky ledge lay the body of a man who spent his life healing and teaching about the Kingdom of God.
Deep in the earth, the Spirit pulsed. Deep in the earth, energy began to build. In the darkness, surrounded by rock and soil, the Spirit of God began to awake.
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The newly hewn grave was cut into the hillside. No one could have foreseen who would be laid inside. His disciples didn’t understand what was coming although they had been forewarned. The soldiers Pilate set to guard the tomb didn’t know the power that was contained behind that stone. They didn’t know what was building up inside.
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Three days after his broken body was taken down from the cross and laid in that tomb, the power of God burst forth. The earth shook and the Spirit soared. Nothing could contain the Beloved.
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Resurrection defies all logic, it moves us from the realm of provable facts to connection with that which is beyond all understanding. Nobody could explain the earthquake. Nobody could begin to describe the heavenly being who rolled back the stone.
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All they could say was that an angel rolled the stone away and the experience was like lightning. The guards were filled with fear. First shaking and then paralyzed, terrified of the unknown.
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The Spirit of God swirled in and around and through the tomb. Light and life emanated from the place that should have contained only death.
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The earth pushed forth the risen Christ like a mother birthing a child. The womblike tomb is empty, the resurrected Christ is set loose in the world and nothing will ever be the same! Alleluia!
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The Spirit of Pentecost
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A few years ago, on the Day of Pentecost, our choir sang a rousing version of “Every Time I Feel the Spirit.” I sat in my chair, looking past the altar candles to the choir and was overcome with joy at their exuberant singing! It was truly a Spirit-filled moment. As the song ended, I turned to look at the congregation and the after image from the altar candles was clear and strong. Those after images of flames danced on the heads of people in the congregation and I felt as if I had been given a tiny glimpse of the power of Pentecost. I’ve always wondered what it was like for the people that first Pentecost who saw the Spirit which appeared like flames dancing on the heads of the crowd. Though the people spoke in various languages, when the Spirit came, they found that they could understand everyone. The barriers were broken down and everyone belonged!
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It is nearly impossible to capture a profound spiritual experience in words. The power of the Spirit is beyond description, but we try. We describe the Spirit as a heavenly dove descending from God, as a bright and shining light, as a pulsing energy, as flames dancing on the heads of those who were hearing about Jesus for the first time.
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One June 9th come and join us for our Pentecost worship service. You are invited to wear red, the color of the Holy Spirit. We will be receiving new members into our congregation on Pentecost and invite anyone who feels that this is their spiritual home to officially join us.
I think back to Pentecost celebrations over the years and remember with joy large origami doves with red streamers attached to the end of long poles that were “flown” around the sanctuary.
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Another year a spirited group of faithful people committed themselves to a yearlong “Confirmation/Re-Confirmation Class.” We met each week and discussed the Bible, Church History, Theology and the major questions of faith. That Pentecost we had 17 people confirm or re-confirm their faith! That’s about half of our regular worship attendance. People of all ages, youth to elders made Pentecost a day they recommitted themselves to God. It has been a blessing to teach Adult Education with so many engaged and thoughtful people who are willing to share their experiences of the Holy One and to ask questions and search together.
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The Spirit in this congregation has grown so dramatically over the years. This little congregation that used to focus primarily internally has shifted its focus to reaching out in mission to the community. We’ve committed ourselves to taking youth on mission trips at least every other year to give them the experience of learning about and serving those who are in need in our world. Our mission outreach has moved from simply writing a check to going to Boston to serve food to the hungry and homeless, providing tailgate suppers at 100 Night’s shelter, collecting coats, shoes, and other clothing for those who have little, organizing a “free” rummage sale where people can take whatever they need.
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The Spirit flows over into social activities connected to the church. Our First Tuesday Teas have become a vital part of the social fabric of the community over the years as has the Nelson Ladies Luncheon. The web of the Spirit touches so many parts of our community.
We have a dedicated group of musicians who sing the Spirit with gusto each week. Who would have imagined that a tiny church like ours could take on performing beautiful cantatas each year, not to mention having the courage to step out in faith to put on performances of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?” So much can happen with a little vision and a lot of Spirit!
We have a committed group of deacons who compassionately care for the congregation and organize worship grace and tenderness. I have gone from being the primary person making sure that everything is set up for special services like Christmas Eve, Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday and Easter Sunrise to seeing the deacons step up and take on the organization of each of these events with dedication and meticulous attention to detail. Palms are burned to ashes and made ready to be used, candles are distributed, soup and bread made, tables are set us, meals cleaned up without a hitch. But there is more. The Spirit motivates people to donate flowers and our deacons graciously help to bring those signs of remembrance and love to people in our community who might not be able to get to church but still need to know that their spirits are connected to the community. Meals are taken to those in times of crisis and recovery and the contacts made even just when delivering a meal bring comfort and healing to those who receive them.
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Our Sunday School children and youth have brought such enthusiasm and Spirit to this congregation. It is blessing to have seen these young people grow and change. Even some of our shyest children and youth have recently asked to be readers during the service. Their dedication to the confirmation process, their willingness to participate in Sunday School, Youth Choir and Youth Group, and the way they interact with adults in the congregation, is impressive. These young people are a blessing to our community.
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We have also been blessed to have trustees and stewards who manage our trust funds and care for our building, and encourage people to give generously to support the mission and ministry of this congregation. In recent years there has been an overwhelming movement toward inclusivity and welcoming all. The “Throw Open the Doors Campaign” tapped into a deep desire to make our church accessible to all. The spirit of the community that responded with incredible generosity was amazing. So many dedicated people worked tirelessly to raise the funds, oversee the work and make the addition a reality. We truly are a small church with a big mission!
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One of our members described the experience of singing with the Jazz band “Oh When the Doors are Opened Wide” as we moved from our inside worship to our outside dedication of the new lift. She said it was one of the most joyful celebrations she’d ever experienced. She saw people singing joyfully from their hearts. She was touched by people with tears filling their eyes as they remembered loved ones to whom the lift was dedicated, and as they thought of all the good that it would bring to our community. Those moments of celebration stay with me and I hope they do with you as well.
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Yes, the Spirit is alive and well at the Nelson Congregational Church! Over the past year’s visioning process, we have begun to ask ourselves: “Who is God calling us to be as we live into our future?” We have developed a covenant of relationship that encourages us to treat one another with respect, to listen deeply, to see the Spirit of God at work in each person.
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You all know that I will conclude my ministry among you at the end of August. My prayer for you as I follow the Spirit who has called me to serve a new church, is that you will continue to listen to the Spirit, that you will be open to becoming the church in a new way, that you will see the Spirit of Christ in one another, and will share the joy of this community with others. You are indeed a Spirit-filled blessed community of faith. May God continue to work through you and may the Spirit of Pentecost lead you into exciting and new adventures as you enter your Interim time in September. I will miss this Spirited congregation and will hold you all in my heart as I follow the Spirit to a new place in ministry. Thank you for all of your love and support over the past 19 years. It has been a privilege to serve as your pastor.
I'm Canandaigua Bound!
Hello Friends! My name is Dawn Garrett-Larsen, and I am excited and honored to be your new pastor. I grew up in Elyria Ohio, graduated from The College of Wooster and Andover Newton Theological School, served the Federated Church in Marlborough NH for eight years, and am just finishing a nineteen-year pastorate at Nelson Congregational Church in NH.
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My husband, Jay, and I have been married since 1992. We have two adult children, Annie and Jesse, and two golden doodles named Gracie and Luna. I love to sing, dance, play games, paddle, hike, read, walk labyrinths, take photographs, and listen to music, especially musical theater! If you are interested in learning more about me you can visit my website at https://dawngarrett-larsen.wixsite.com/mysite. You’ll find some of my photography, audio sermons, and a glimpse into the way I approach ministry on this website.
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I flung the net wide when I initiated the search for my next calling, and distributed my profile in many different states. I was looking for a welcoming, mission-oriented, progressive, forward-thinking congregation that is ready to discern God’s call. You are all of those things!
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God’s call to serve the First Congregational Church of Canandaigua was absolutely clear to me during the interview process. I was impressed with the wonderful staff, the kind and thoughtful search committee members, and the beautiful building. I loved the shared meals, theological conversations, and time just getting to know members of the search committee.
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Since first stepping foot in Canandaigua, this has felt like the right match. I remember during my phone interview saying, “I’ve read through your profile and everything looks too perfect. What aren’t you telling me?”
When I came to visit, I fell in love with the people, the church, and the town. By God’s grace, everything has fallen into place, including the opportunity to buy Debbie Wilbur’s beautiful farm house. It is a clear sign to me that this is the place God has called me to serve.
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I am leaving an almost 20-year beloved ministry in NH, and I know how difficult it will be for my current parishioners to say goodbye and to be ready for a new pastor to lead them. I expect that some of the work you will be doing during our first year together will be grieving Tom’s leaving and starting to envision church with Dawn as your pastor.
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As we begin our ministry together, I will invite you to reflect on your past and look toward the future. We will be organizing small group gatherings throughout the fall. I want to hear from you what you love about this church, what your hopes and dreams are for the future, and how we will work together to follow God.
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I hope to meet each of you during my first few months. If you would be more comfortable getting to know one another individually or as families, I would love to come and visit you in your home, meet you for tea, or visit with you at the church. Please let me know what venue is preferable for you.
I will focus on building relationships, asking questions, listening, and learning about what you value most in this community of faith. Thank you for your patience and support in helping me to come to know all of you.
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Please also help me to know what is going on in the lives of the people in the church. If your daughter is having surgery, if there is a new baby in your family, if your spouse lost a job, if you are dealing with illness or recovering from an injury, or if you just need to talk with someone, I would like to be there to support you. I’d rather hear the news that someone was taken to the hospital from three or four people than not hear about it at all.
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I will be incredibly grateful for your help in knowing what is going on in the community. Thanks for your assistance! I can’t wait to meet you and to make new connections as I begin my pastorate in September.
My first Sunday with you will be Rally Day, September 8th. I hope that you will come to church that Sunday and celebrate the beginning of our new ministry together. God is doing great things at the First Congregational Church of Canandaigua and I am excited to be a part of ministry here in this place!