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In the Wee Small Hours

On that day when the Lord gave the Amorites over to the Israelites, Joshua spoke to the Lord; and he said in the sight of Israel, “Sun, stand still at Gibeon; and Moon, in the valley of Aijalon.” And the sun stood still, and the moon stopped, until the nation took vengeance on their enemies. – Joshua 10:12-13 (NRSV)

The sun is limiting its face time with the northern hemisphere these days. Dawn rises each morning with slow luxury. Noon casts long shadows. Dusk reddens the autumn leaves in late afternoon.

I’m grateful for the lengthening nights in this time of glaring injustice, gaudy lies, and flashing threats of violence. I can’t imagine taking joy in a day without darkness, a day of blazing light, a day without the reprieve of time, a day when the moon waits in the wings so the sun can abet catastrophic horror.

But even without the sun standing still, daily upheaval has quite an overwhelming intensity. As does election news. As does pandemic news. As does pretty much everything else. My social media is filled with calls for the brilliant work of justice to be unrelenting. Righteous messages and unrighteous messages alike radiate the theme: We cannot stop! We must persevere! Let the sun stand still to fuel our work!

Meanwhile the moon is spending an increased amount of time whispering a different necessary truth: Here, for all, are the lengthening hours of the night, a gift for repentance and restoration. For quiet and calm. For dreaming and releasing.

We need the moonlit hours, as much if not more than the sunlit hours, for the work at hand. Or at least, I need them. Because what will be the value of virtuous victory under the sun if we kill ourselves (and others) in the process?

Here is the sun, willingly waning, so that our agitated spirits might do the same.

Prayer: Give us this day our rest.

written for the UCC Daily Devotional

As Far as the Western Sea

Not me, O Life, but us.

Not mine, O Life, but ours.

As far as the eastern horizon,
as far as the western sea,
all that is and all that can be.

Not us or them, O Life, but every.

Not us or theirs, O Life, but all’s.

From the first wisp of dust
to its final sighing breath,
in life and death, in glory and struggle.

Not for or against, O Life, but with.

Not won or lost, O Life, but multiplied.

As long as the rivers,
as timeless as the stars,
as faithful as the sunrise.

Because I am not without us, O Life.

Because ours is naught without every, O Life. Always.

on the Revised Common Lectionary texts;
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals

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