Somewhere Over the Rainbow

This week I was moved to tears by the audition of Linkin Bridge singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I loved their version, their passion, their honesty. And I've always loved this song. You can watch their full audition or just the song.

As a little girl I first heard it by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz. Like this. Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
has created his own beautiful version.

Listening to this song this week, I wondered why it attracts me so. Here are the words from the original version:

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow. Why then, oh, why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow why, oh, why can't I?

It's a song of longing. Dorothy longs for a real home, where she is not harassed and orphaned. She finds Oz, but in the end, discovers the land of her dreams is Kansas, with her aunt and uncle, not the fantasy land over the rainbow.

I resonate with this sentiment of searching for a real home. Partly that emanates from my earthly journey. Yet more deeply I think the seed of heaven yearns to break forth in us. We long for that real home that lasts eternally, where as CS Lewis described it in The Great Divorce, we are not yet solid enough to exist.

I suspect I will continue this longing all my life. But for now the time it feels the most quenched is when I am surrounded by my family. Like Dorothy, that creates home for me. That warm reality melts my troubles like lemon drops.

We are Orlando

On Sunday June 12, 2016 a prayer card came up front amongst the typical requests for a loved one's healing or travel plans, a card that asked me to pray for the 50 victims of an event called the worst mass shooting in US history.

As this event had happened early Sunday morning, the news had not reached me before this brief explanation sent up front for pastoral prayer.

This kind of surprise used to happen to me with regularity. You see, I really detest following the news, as I find it voyeuristic and overwrought. For years my family and friends would try to keep me abreast of topics they thought I should know before being surprised in just this type of manner on Sunday morning.

But in recent years, I have typically kept up with current trends via social media, whether interested or not, as I do enjoy seeing what's going on in my friends' lives, and the news flows with it.

As I returned to social media in the next hours and days after this most recent tragedy, I found the typical diverse reactions to the latest. Protests at calling it the worst mass shooting for example, by friends of color remembering Wounded Knee and other massacres. Complaints about how the President handled his response, reactions from every politician in and out of office, calls for gun control, calls against gun control, calls for silence in solidarity, complaints against only silence. Concerns for gays and Muslims. Complaints against gays and Muslims.

You name it, I've seen it on my news feed posted by my diverse list of friends and the masses.

I used to simply not watch the news, as I objected to its point of view.

As I see the flowing comments, many of them I abhor, I wonder what is my proper response? Not only to this tragedy, but to my friends?

I could unfriend everyone whose posts I disagree with, which would leave a short list indeed, not because I think actually disagree with everyone, as much as I'm not sure these responses are productive.

About now if you've managed to read this far, you wonder what I think is the alternative. So do I.

I do believe we have forgotten the Psalmist's art of lament, or as Paul put it, how to mourn with those who mourn. We rush to judge and blame, not just the perpetrator, but the victim, the system, whatever we can blame.

We want to control the world, so we assign blame to be certain it doesn't happen to us. If we can pin it on someone, we can keep ourselves safe.

Because the very last thing we would ever want to do is admit that all of us are capable of great tragedy. There but by the grace of God, go I.

I offer no solutions. But I lament the fallen, and the bereaved, and the instigator of this evil. For just as "We are Orlando" means we all share in this loss, so it also means we all share in this violence.

Lord show us a way to peace. Hold our hands in this darkness. Bring us home where light shines, for all of us.