I don’t know how many of you know the back story of the House of Israel. You’ll know something if you’ve seen Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat where Pharaoh is portrayed by an Elvis look-alike. The show takes off from there: It’s imaginative, hilarious, and energetic but it’s still also based on the true story of the 12 sons of the ancient Patriarch Jacob (from multiple wives). The older sons were jealous of the younger, favored one, Joseph. They conspired to throw him into a pit and kill him but in the end chose to sell him into slavery in Egypt instead. There he makes lemonade out of those nasty lemons, but you’ll have to read the Old Testament for the rest of his story.
Sadly, the sibling rivalry doesn’t end there. Later the nation of Israel is ruled by a greedy king who discovered, as many have since, the great wealth to be had through heavy taxation. The tribe of Ephraim took great offense, picked up their marbles and huffed off to Samaria, just northwest of their homelands around Jerusalem. Nine other tribes went with them and formed a new nation specifically called Israel (as opposed to the more general use of the term). They ultimately became The Lost Ten Tribes as they were scattered by the idolatrous kingdom of Assyria because of their apostasy and wickedness.
Remaining in their first homeland were the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, presided over mostly by Judah’s priestly class. Christ was born there, launched His three-year ministry, then was condemned for blasphemy, and executed by the people He had come to save from sin and death. Why did the priests not recognize the Messiah they had long prayed and sought for? The short answer is pride in their own learning and expecting Him to come as a great warrior and free them from the oppressive rule of Rome, but Christ brought spiritual salvation, not political.
Christ left behind many dedicated converts and so was born Christianity whose followers hid and scattered. Another great schism began between blood brothers: Christianity and Judaism, really just more sibling rivalry in ecclesiastical garb.
Fast forward almost 2000 years. Those same divisions exist today: Judah increasingly being centered in Israel with Jerusalem at its head and Joseph’s son Ephraim’s descendants making up a large component of the membership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Book of Isaiah says:
And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: forout of Zion shall go forth the law, andthe word of the Lord from Jerusalem. (Isaiah 2:2-3, also Micah 4:1-2, and the Book of Mormon 2 Nephi 12:2-3)
This scripture refers to revelation given to our LDS prophets that Zion (Ephraim as leader) will be built in America and be one of two spiritual capitals in the world during the prophesied Millennium of 1000 years of peace and goodness – the other being in Jerusalem headed by the tribe of Judah. And many people are still watching for the Messiah to return and for the Restoration of the Ten Tribes “from the land of the north”:
In those days the house of Judah shall walk with the house of Israel [Ephraim], and they shall come together out of the land of the north to the land that I have given for an inheritance unto your fathers. (Jeremiah 3:18)
Jeremiah goes on to describe the greatness of this event – so great it will eclipse the miracles of the Exodus from Egypt:
Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that it shall no more be said, The Lord liveth, that brought up the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt; But, The Lord liveth, that brought up the children of Israel from the land of the north, and from all the lands whither he had driven them: and I will bring them again into their land that I gave unto their fathers. (Jeremiah 16:14-15)
Many of us in the Christian world are awaiting the return of our Messiah to unite these two tribes with the 10 others, but I’m here to testify that, on a small scale, it has already begun! My introduction to this came by listening to deep LDS gospel scholars who have discovered the connection of some my church’s history with the occurrence of Hebrew “Feast Days.” Two articles in my church’s magazine started some on this journey:
(1) Symbols of the Harvest: Old Testament Holy Days and the Lord’s Ministry, by Lenet H. Read. Read it Here, but be aware that other scholars align the Passover Feasts with the last week of Christ’s somewhat differently. (2) The Golden Plates and the Feast of Trumpets, by Lenet Hadley Read. Read it HERE.
Many Jewish people are accepting that Jesus Christ is their long-awaited Messiah. Many Christians are recognizing the tribe of Judah as brothers with a common heritage and are also mindful of the greatness of this particular tribe of Israel, long leaders in religion, business, the arts, and more. They have laboriously climbed out of the deep pit of the condemnation they incurred at the death of their Messiah, and have embraced growing goodness and devotion to God which, I believe, will be crowned by reclaiming their leadership position in the House of Israel restored.
So, the title of this blog originally comes from my summer in Ocean City, Maryland where I worked as a waitress and enjoyed leaning to swim in the ocean. It was salty – no mystery there – but the big learning experience was being knocked down by breaking waves and ground into the sandy beach, an experience you want to learn from quickly! I then decided to watch a wave approach and dive right into the middle of it as it broke over my head. Cowabunga – success! In the blink of an eye, I was on the other side and feeling more like a dolphin than a human volley ball. Next I started to look farther out to sea and watch the slight swells on the water’s surface – waves in their infancy. Often, one would be bigger and more powerful looking than the others. I would wait for that one and it never disappointed me – it was extra big and extra thrilling to dive into.
Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 3070142
I liken this small swell of interest building between Christians and Jews with those long ago oceans swells, and I have the same confidence that this will be even more thrilling to dive into someday as it breaks upon an amazed people. Just like a fractured family, old wounds will be discussed, grieved over, then healed by the overarching love of God – the same God for all! We can then enter the glorious world of the promised Millennium, working together for the good of all mankind and not just a privileged few. It will be a wholesome world where love and fairness reign, and creation steps into endless fulfillment, “worlds without number.”
Billions of Stars in a Single Galaxy, Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 10995
Most people are still stressed because of year-long pandemic restrictions, economic worries, family worries, or just wondering, “What’s happened to our world”?
And I’m squarely in that camp. In February, I signed up for a Church History tour in July that I haven’t been able to fully anticipate because it may be cancelled due to COVID restrictions. In normal times, I could have registered and enjoyed months of happy anticipation, but I haven’t allowed myself that pleasure because it would just set me up for a bigger disappointment should it be cancelled. This made me both sad and angry, mostly angry. Somebody STOLE our future! I’m not alone in that feeling and have heard others’ frustrations expressed in many forms: indignation, anxiety, negativity – abnormal for those people in better times. Continuing the thoughts from my previous post, I did all those things but finally turned to inspirational reading.
I got one of my favorites off the shelf: The Hiding Place, a memoir by Corrie ten Boom, a Dutch survivor of the WWII women’s concentration camp Ravensbruck where she and her sister were sent because her family helped Jews escape the Nazi net in Holland. She also lost her father after only 10 days in prison, a beloved nephew, and a brother who died soon after being released from their local prison.
Why did a Christian family put themselves in harm’s way? They could have just sat out the war safely repairing clocks, all while enjoying their large, happy family and many friends. Corrie’s father Casper ten Boom was a devout Christian who put his faith into action and gave a message of hope and faith to everyone he met.
He loved the Jewish people because of their great destiny and heritage. While out walking with Corrie during the German occupation of their town, Corrie commented on the many people forced to wear a yellow star marking them as Jewish: Father, those poor people! Her father replied: Those poor people. But to Corrie’s surprise she saw that he was looking at the soldiers now forming into ranks. I pity the poor Germans, Corrie. They have touched the apple of God’s eye [the Jews, to be persecuted and murdered by the Nazi regime]. He really lived the commandment to Love Your Enemies, a lesson Corrie would have to work hard to master later on.
Casper was also a wise father and knew how to teach difficult lessons. After Corrie had accompanied her mother and older sister to a family grieving the death of an infant, she was invited to touch a small, cold hand. Corrie was shocked by her sudden introduction to the physical reality of death. Later that night, she burst into tears upon seeing her beloved father, declaring, You can’t die! You can’t. I need you! Her father wisely counseled her:
Corrie, when you and I go to Amsterdam – when do I give you your ticket? Corrie: Why, just before we get on the train. Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we’re going to need things, too. Don’t run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need – just in time.
And isn’t that how our Heavenly Father works with us? We are expected to move forward in faith, believing that we’ll “get our ticket” just when we need it. Many of us gaze into the future and try to see what’s coming. While it is good to be prepared, there comes a time to turn the future over to God – a burden only He can really carry – trusting Him to give us our ticket when we really need strengthening, direction, or protection.
An example from my own life: I sometimes worry excessively about my children and grandchildren, before they take a long trip or when my son goes mountain biking on rough terrain. During one of his outings, I couldn’t control my anxiety for him, so I remembered God’s promise to quiet our inner storms (2 Corinthians 1:3-7). Then I knelt and said a formal prayer asking that my fears be removed and peace descend. As I arose, that peace did appear and anxiety didn’t return. Sharing my concerns with my son when he returned for his hero’s breakfast, he replied, Don’t worry, Mom, I’m careful and I don’t want to die! But it would have helped if he hadn’t sent me videos of a dare-devil rider on that same trail! In any case, I got my ticket from an understanding God just when I needed it!
Corrie always looked up to her two sisters, Nollie and Betsie, as well as her father as model Christians, living their beliefs every day. But she struggled. In Ravensbruck, they spent many hours in a room infested with fleas that caused much discomfort. Betsie counseled her to be thankful in all things, even in this.
1 Thessalonians 5:18: In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
Corrie couldn’t believe that meant being thankful for fleas, but they proved a blessing when they could teach their fellow prisoners from a hidden Bible, unmolested by the guards who wouldn’t go in that room!
In her follow-up book, Tramp for the Lord, the Years after The Hiding Place, Corrie feels called by the Lord to travel the word and teach the Christian lessons from her childhood and years of Nazi oppression. Each short chapter teaches another lesson she learned from almost 40 years of trusting the Lord to lead her in her travels and ministry.
Corrie Happy In the Service of God
Called reluctantly to return to post-war Germany with a message of hope and God’s love, she wrote:
The Germans had lost face in defeat. Their homes had been destroyed and when they heard the enormity of Hitler’s crimes (which many Germans knew nothing about) they were filled with despair. As they returned to their Fatherland they felt they had nothing to live for. . . . Then in a refugee camp, Corrie spotted an elderly woman who had been a concert pianist. Finding a broken-down piano, she played the Chromatic Fantasy of Bach beautifully. Tears came to Corrie’s eyes as she thought of wounded Germany, left with only the remnants of the past, but still able to play beautiful music. Such a nation will survive to create again, she thought.
Then Corrie told this woman what she had learned in Ravensbruck: Love still stands when all else has fallen. In the concentration camp they took all we had, even made us stand naked for hours at a time without rest, but they could not take Jesus from my heart. Ask Jesus to come into your life. He will give you riches no man can take away from you.
While it was hard for Corrie to face a return to Germany, it was harder still to face a former guard, who came forward after one of her speeches on God’s love and forgiveness. Here’s her account of that meeting:
“It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the centre of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! The place was Ravensbruck and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard – one of the most cruel guards. Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out. A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!
“And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course . . . but I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt . . . You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk. I was a guard there. But since that time, I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well, Fraulein – again the hand came out – will you forgive me?
“And I stood there – I whose sins had again and again to be forgiven – and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place – could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?”
But she knew that God’s offer of forgiveness has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. If you do not forgive men their trespasses, Jesus says, neither will your father in heaven forgive your trespasses. Corrie saw many war victims and commented: Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. But those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and horrible as that.
“And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion – I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. Jesus, help me! I prayed silently. I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling. And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
“I forgive you, brother! I cried. With all my heart. . . . I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in Romans 5:5: because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.”
Corrie ten Boom, Love Your Enemy
And the promise of God’s strengthening grace is given to us in all circumstances when our own powers are inadequate. I remember when I was asked only a day before Father’s Day to fill in for a speaker in my church’s Sacrament Meeting the next morning. I thought, this isn’t hard. We have the greatest Father of all in God, plus the great ancient patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But no matter how I approached this talk, nothing came together. Everything I wrote came out sounding like an essay or lesson, not a tribute to everyday fathers. Finally, I just gave it back to the Lord and walked into church knowing He would help me and “give me my ticket” just as I needed it. I sat on the stand completely relaxed, smiling at the congregation anticipating along with them what message the Lord would have me share!
When my turn came, I walked calmly to the podium, never looked at my notes and almost heard the words from God: Stand aside, your talk’s rubbish. I’ll take it from here. And He did. It suddenly came to me to pay tribute to my earthly father, then my great-great-grandfather who was the last Christian in the Kent line to that point (a human spiritual father I look up to), and finally to my son, a devoted dad to my two grandchildren. The talk flowed easily. I enjoyed it and several people later told me that they did too.
Over my many years of living, I’ve learned over and over that God will fill our gaps. Gaps of courage, of faith, of inspiration, of direction when we truly need it and ask for it. I just have to keep reminding myself of that: to ask. And the more we exercise faith our faith muscles, the stronger they grow. The Christian road is often hard but there is a paradise waiting at the end. And not just in the next life but also at the end of every struggle, every challenge!
Second Coming – Courtesy: https://heavenready.blogspot.com/2015/10
I have felt something recently I think many of us have as well – a “sea change” in how we experience the world, how we see our future, and even the stability of the Earth below our feet! I don’t believe we’ve had so much division and animosity in our nation since the build-up to the Revolutionary War when Patriots and Loyalists were 180° apart, but I expect they still had better manners than we do . . . .
Mount Rushmore, courtesy Wikipedia Commons – Can You Identify All Four?
Never before has civility and social maturity been at such a low ebb. No matter what label you give to the opposing camps in our country or what side you may be on, both seem to feel justified in pointing the finger at the other, in the most juvenile ways. Each assumes they have all right and virtue is on their own side, that the other has no merit at all and is worthy of any name-calling and nastiness they can throw at it.
When I was going through school long, long ago, this type of attitude and behavior was almost unheard of. Yes, there were teachers and others who let their opinions and egos get a little out of control, but the general standard was a tacit acknowledgement that truth was bigger than all of us and that no one had a patent on it. Many of my teachers would say, “The more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know.” Additionally, I felt and believed that there was an “umbrella of ultimate truth” arching over mortal life and that it was the adventure of a lifetime to discover even some of it. Christians call this attitude humility, academics call it objectivity, and others might just say “open-mindedness.” The standard in journalism was always a mandate to present both sides as objectively as possible, leaving opinions to the editorial page. That seems to be absolutely gone now. Opinions masquerade as facts and dissenters are vilified without a hearing. The events surrounding this presidential election have rocked my world and that of many others.
Where did these thoughts lead me? First, I believe we need a return to civil dialogue that doesn’t focus on snippets of behavior, personality, and superficial judgments. One of my bosses many years ago, the Human Resources Manager of a large company, said many times that he “first seeks to understand before he seeks to be understood.” That’s probably a good place to start: asking someone to explain not only what their opinion is, but why they have it.
That then can lead into a discussion of goals, principles, and values. When people of seemingly opposing positions get to this point, they often realize they have the same or similar values and goals, but may differ on how to get there. However, with a little effort, goodwill is retained, respect increases, and the potential for unity, not discord, grows.
Finally, I think it’s a great idea to affirm the other person’s good intentions, the areas where you can agree, and then politely “agree to disagree” civilly about the others. I loved the title of a book that came out in the 1960s, I’m OK, You’re OK. We can affirm someone’s inherent worth and intentions even if we seem to be diametrically opposed philosophically.
Handshake of Goodwill – Courtesy Pixabay.com Image 3139227
This isn’t even the main thrust of my topic today, which is how to internally deal with uncertainty, insecurity, fear, even terror, and then how to not let these feelings cripple our ability to function.
We can start by trying do our best and be our best while we push through fear – to act “as if” we were fearless. Then we can make a conscious effort to interact with others in a kind, understanding way, and contribute something of worth to society. Our fears may not disappear entirely but at least they won’t cripple us. Then we can work on conquering them over the long haul. But even with our best efforts, we will often find we’re at the end of our own resources of insight and energy. That’s the time to seek a greater power around us and beyond us. I think most of us experience that already, no matter what we call it. There are many paths to tap into that higher energy, and we each have to find our own. Mine starts with reflection, identifying why I’m feeling as I do, what my options are, and then calling for “the powers of heaven” to enlarge my natural insight and abilities, sought in concentrated prayer. I reach for both specific guidance and general comfort.
The answer often starts with a peace that soothes my soul and stills my agitation. As I sincerely listen, I receive insight on my specific issues from that greater power either immediately or in the hours that follow as I take action, putting “one foot into the darkness.” While I continue to believe in that power and seek it whole-heartedly, it never fails to show up. Not everyone calls it God or prayer, but that’s my path so bear with me as I describe my own process. At the end of the Book of Mormon we read, And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things. This scripture is specifically referring to receiving spiritual teachings, but when we receive or experience something in another sphere of life, the process is the same. When we’re stumped we can:
Ask with a sincere heart: We have to really want an answer outside of our own opinions and wishes
Ask with real intent: We have to be willing to act on the answer. God is merciful and doesn’t want us to be accountable for a truth greater than we are willing to live because He’s also a God of justice and has to allow us to experience the consequences of not following His higher truth once He’s revealed it, if that’s what we choose.
Ask with faith in Christ: We have to believe in a higher power, the real higher power, or our asking is like spitting in the wind. We won’t like where seeking a false power eventually goes: disappointment, bitterness, or much worse. Whatever we call our higher power, if we seek a positive one, it will lead us to greater light and peace.
After prayer and reflection, I play great music from composers and performers who are also tapping into that greater power. You might try listening to the following: The Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square Christmas concert 2012 featuring soloist David Archuleta. His angelic voice, the inspired music, even the accompanying dancers all create a magical experience that moves me to tears every time I view it. Listen here. Or Pie Jesu, sung by Sarah Brightman and written for her by Andrew Lloyd-Webber, here on YouTube. And the whole score of Phantom of the Opera sends me right over the edge!
Look at great art. I have a poster on my bedroom wall that I see at the start and end of each day. It’s a portion of a larger Da Vinci painting I saw in London’s National Gallery. It’s an angel watching over Mary and Jesus. In the dark night around them, there are flower petals floating by. Her face is tilted toward a soft light with a reflective gaze. The curls around her ear reflect that light, showing she is listening for the voice of her maker. Her shoulder also leans into that light and tells me not only is she seeking inspiration but she’ll act on it. I never fail to calm down and seek those same subtle petals of inspiration. Here it is:
Da Vinci, Madonna on the Rocks, a Print from the National Gallery in London
Then there’s what initially appears to be just pure escapism when we’re too tired to be productive – for me, it’s reading, viewing a TV show or movie. And I find that if I up my standards just a little, I will discover people who are great examples of courage, goodness, and service who inspire me to carry on and do a little better, as well as see the reward at the end of a long tunnel, all while being entertained and getting a nice break from my to-do list. Some of my fav’s:
I love the old Broadway musicals: South Pacific, The Music Man, Oklahoma. But a lesser known one, State Fair with Dana Andrews and Jeanne Crain is a frequent guilty pleasure. Filmed in 1945, it takes me right back to my Iowa roots and my own teenage dreams of finding romance by chance. It’s pure escape but affirms my belief that happiness can overtake us when we least expect it.
Chip and Joanna Gaines on Fixer Upper. Yes, we step into a light-hearted, sometimes goofy, account of how this couple transforms houses into homes for their clients but we also see what kind of people they are, their high standards of workmanship, and the caring they pour into personalizing a home for a particular family. Plus the clients have stories that often inspire, while Chip goofs off. My favorite gag is him playing the church lady when he finds an organ in a thrift store, donning a wig and doing her voice perfectly – hilarious!
I love a little known British mini-series, House of Eliott.It’s about two sisters who suddenly face a reversal of fortune and how they cope. Over about eight years, we are given a glimpse into their personal and professional lives as fashion designers in 1920s London. Older sister Beatrice is 30 and Evangeline is 18 when the story begins. Bea is cynical and driven. Evie is naive and artistic. They craft a fashion design business and lurch their way to personal happiness, along with many of their staff. The characters are unique, the writing, acting and lush costumes are superb. You can get lost in their story, forget your troubles, and also come away with unforgettable people who teach you something valuable.
House of Eliott Set Cover, PBS
Finally, I read books and watch shows that deal with adversity that at least transforms nebulous fears into specific and hopefully more manageable ones – if these people coped, perhaps I can too. Here are a few to get your started:
Victor Herman, Coming Out of the Ice: His father is sent to Stalin’s Russia in the 1930s to help them launch their auto industry. Gymnast Victor is expected to represent Russia in the Olympics but when he refuses to give up his American citizenship to do so, the whole family is put in a concentration camp. What he does to survive 18 years in Siberia is simply unforgettable. (NOTE: There are two editions, one for Christian readers without the bad language the publisher inserted, much to the author’s chagrin.)
Immaculee Ilibagiza, Left to Tell: This young woman spent 3 months hiding in her priest’s bathroom with 5 other women to escape the slaughter of the tribal war in Rwanda between the Hutu’s and the Tutsi’s. She spent her days praying and sending out unconditional love even while hearing sounds of the murder of her favorite brother right outside. Three times while being transported to safety by UN soldiers, they were nearly attacked again. Each time she prayed and sent that same love towards them – and they just disappeared back into the jungle! She eventually made it to the US, worked at the UN, married and had a family. Visiting Rwanda later, she saw the difference between those who could forgive and move forward and those who could not. Another amazing story.
ABC’s biggest TV mini-series ever (1983 and 1988): Winds of War and War and Remembrance. Most library systems have the DVDs to check out. Winds of War can be purchased from Amazon, but it’s impossible to find an affordable set of War and Remembrance. This is simply the most amazing 48 hours of viewing I’ve ever experienced. Based on Herman Wouk’s best selling novels of the same name, Producer and Director Dan Curtis filmed in 10 countries with a cast of 44,000 (mostly extras) while telling the story of two fictional American families during WWII. Once again, every component was amazing and there were many moments of inspiration woven into top-notch entertainment. Of special note was John Gielgud cast as Aaron Jastrow in War and Remembrance. His speech in the “Luxury Ghetto” of Theresienstadt is simply one of the most moving dramatic experiences of my life.
Find the cultural experiences that speak to you. We are heirs of the richest culture in the history of mankind, Western Civilization. While it’s under attack right now, we can have the assurance that “nothing good will be lost” as uttered by early LDS leader, Brigham Young:
“The business of the Elders of this Church (Jesus, their elder brother, being at their head), is to gather up all the truths in the world pertaining to life and salvation, to the Gospel we preach, to mechanisms of every kind, to the sciences, and to philosophy, wherever they may be found in every nation, kindred, tongue and people, and bring it to Zion.” The “Gathering” was to be not only a bringing together of people, but of all the treasures surviving in the earth from every age and culture; “Every accomplishment, every polished grace, every useful attainment in mathematics, music, in all science and art belong to the Saints, and they rapidly collect the intelligence that is bestowed upon the nations, for all this intelligence belongs to Zion. All the knowledge, wisdom, power, and glory that have been bestowed upon the nations of the earth, from the days of Adam till now, must be gathered home to Zion.” “What is this work? The improvement of the condition of the human family.” (Hugh Nibley quoting Brigham Young in Why I Believe, a collection of essays fromprominent LDS members, published by Bookcraft, SLC, 2002; originally from Brother Brigham Challenges the Saints, 1994, emphasis added) NOTE: “Saints” means “followers of Christ,” not perfect beings. Also note, Zion mentioned here will include all good people who survive the events described in The Book of Revelation, in the New Testament.
Finally, I’m a Christian because of my direct, life-changing experience with the Spirit of God intimately confirming teachings about Jesus and eternal life. See my earlier post describing it: HERE. Zion and Jerusalem have a great destiny in the next chapter of man’s journey. From Isaiah in the Old Testament:
And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord. (Isaiah 2:2-5, emphasis added)
Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are taught that Zion will be established on this continent and will have many leadership roles in the Millennium, while Jerusalem will be a great spiritual center, as all good people will be gathered in, to learn and progress at their own rate. Coupled with the idea that all the great achievements of every age past will be preserved, we have a lot to look forward to. But we also know, it will take the miracles of God to free us from the chaos descending upon us and all of Western Civilization. Those miracles will be so great that they will even eclipse the parting of the Red Sea in Moses’ day. See Jeremiah 16:14-15
Galaxy Milky Way Lit by Delicate Arch – Pixabay Image 896885
Ultimately, we know from scriptures who wins the battle between Good and Evil, so we can have confidence that our sorrows, fears, and afflictions will be temporary and will be swallowed up in victory:
So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? . . . But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord. (New Testament: 1 Corinthians 15:54-55, 57-58, emphasis added)
Our “labour” is to contribute to the “growing good of the world” (from the end of the English novel, Middlemarch) building on the rich heritage behind us and looking forward to the even greater one that awaits all of us!
So my last coping mechanism is picturing that glorious life where everyone receives the reward of their thoughts, words, and actions, and what role I might be able to play there. If we all do this, we can then really focus on creating a new world of goodness, happiness and unity, under the wings of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and our Heavenly Father who loves us, right now.
That is comfort indeed – so let’s keep civilization alive by being civil, then stand upand keep the faith!
I’m finally living my dream of having a rose garden. And yes, God did promise me a rose garden and now He’s delivering! After planting five diverse rose bushes in my front garden two years ago, I now revel in their fragrant riot of color from May through October, then save and dry their petals. Here’s how lush and exquisite they are at their peak:
Summer in Bloom, Author’s Photo
This fall I took a photo of the last bouquet, noting the frost damage on the petal edges. I posted it on Facebook with this message: The “Last Rose of Summer” from my front garden. We’ve had several nights of frost and my roses are showing its damage along the edges of the petals. Just like their owner, they are past their prime. But I’ve discovered over the summer that roses smell their sweetest as they ripen and wilt. I hope I can share the fragrant fruits of a long life with those around me before the last petal drops from my soul….
Dying Last Roses, Author’s Photo
My granddaughter and I couldn’t bear to toss these blooms when they were finally dead “as a doornail” so we didn’t! They live on in my kitchen completely dry and many petals gone. But there’s still a macabre beauty in what remains, and the Fallen Petals speak poignantly of summer days gone by.
Dead Roses, Fallen Petals, Author’s Photo
As I reflect on this life-and-death cycle, I see that people are a lot like roses. We emerge as buds, bloom while sending out wonderful scent, only to finally drop our petals and die as all mortal creation must. Those petals are the scent of what we leave behind, the legacy for others to build on.
My parents left a rich heritage of talent, deep integrity, and great love for family for their six children, many grandchildren and now great grandchildren. After my mother’s funeral in 2005, I saw her vibrant energy flowing through all of us in various ways. My Dad’s solid work ethic and absolute honesty lives on in both my children and all their other descendants.
Mom and Dad, Family Photo
Many others have left petals of legacy in my life. Here are two:
Helen Scriabina, Family Photo
Helen was my parents’ neighbor in Iowa City and was a Professor of Russian at the University of Iowa. Here she is sitting on their patio in a characteristic pose of peace and attention turned outward, but eyes tinged with sadness. Her father was ousted from his university position during the Bolshevik Revolution. She was lucky to escape the Siege of Leningrad with her two sons during WWII. (Her books, including Siege and Survival, are well worth reading.) After working as a waitress in Paris, she finally emigrated to America, teaching Russian to American servicemen, then finally landing a stable faculty position in Iowa. Her youngest son was later killed in an earthquake while traveling in Eastern Europe, and she told us she had been reduced to what she could take in one suitcase four times in her life. But carrying on, she took in boarders, kept in touch with former students all her life, and made continual lemonade from the lemons life handed her. She loved people, and oh, how we loved her!
Alma Sewing, Family Photo
Alma was a wonderful Menonite woman who came to work for my mother to cook large batches of food about once a month. I loved to come home after school and banter with her. She didn’t brook any nonsense but always had a twinkle in her eye and love in her voice. My mother later told me she was the child the family designated to stay home and take care of their aging parents, denying her a family of her own. She never complained and just got on with it. Far more than the tasty cookies she made is the lingering taste of her good humor, devotion, and service.
The petals of memory from these treasured people have never lost their fragrance. The longer I live, the more indebted I feel to those who’ve gone before but aren’t really gone. I can hardly wait for that great reunion beyond the veil, but until then I’m tending my own petals, nurturing their scent, and hope it falls on many souls.
Last April, my post 28 Months (HERE) described my rather tortured journey to home ownership and the feeling that last spring ushered in an end to “House Jail.” Little did I know it would be replaced by “Garden Jail”! It was only this month that I was paroled once again . . . and on the 3-year anniversary of starting this massive project.
This last year involved a life-and-death battle with weeds, and lawn trying to take back my new garden beds. I got volunteer help from grandchildren and church youth groups. We put over 300′ of lawn edging all around each bed since the walkways were grass. Then I upped the ante by putting commercial grade weed cloth down every walkway between the beds. This conquered much of the problem, but refugee grass kept escaping and invading my beds. Giant tufts of green peeked out from under squash, bean and potato plants, laughing in derision.
I refused to use weed killer. After all who poisons the very ground that feeds? So I pulled up handfuls of grass, hacked at invading turf with my trusty small shovel, mulched heavily and finally put weed cloth down all around the outside of the garden – all at a fearful cost of time and money. Just the clips alone to hold it in place were over $50. I bought a manual lawn mower with the romantic intention of combining exercise with saving money. It was easy to mow the small remaining 20’x20′ patch of grass in my back yard, but the front yard defeated me.
Garden Path Conquered! Author’s Photo
Since a real estate commission allowed me to install gravel in my front side yard, that eliminated one patch to mow. But even the remaining larger area proved to be too much. My charming Fiskars mower simply didn’t provide a clean cut. I had to go over the lawn 2-3 times to get it presentable and my hand trimmer, even with its long handle, was slow and painful to use. Finally, I made a deal with my wonderful lawn guy: He would mow and trim just the remaining front yard for half his former price, and I would manually mow the back.
By fall, harvesting my overgrown and somewhat neglected garden competed with managing one of the most stressful real estate transactions in my 14-year career. My clients were selling their home and buying a new one, two transactions due to close on the same day. They were much loved and admired friends plus great to work with, but their buyer was a nervous first-time homeowner who put us through our paces during a 7-week escrow and long inspection period.
Throughout all this, I had a garden only partly harvested, overrun with huge healthy plants, and once again I felt like the Miller’s daughter in Rumpelstiltskin facing an unexpected, biggest room of all to spin into gold. I had run out of volunteer options, so after a “light-bulb moment,” I hired some teenage girls which probably saved me from a heart attack! Together we harvested every bed, mulched and covered them with netting against high winds, covered a pile of free palettes and my AC unit with tarps, and even covered the area under the water faucet with extra gravel from my front side yard. Victory!
By the time both transactions closed on the same day in early November, I felt like seaweed washed up on the beach that had been repeatedly run over by a tank and pulverized. I was barely gasping for breath! But I could rest, restock my pantry with my new earnings, and look forward to a season of hibernation and reflection.
December is always a retreat from the hustle and bustle of life for me. This year doubly so. I have solid hope that 2018 will actually materialize as the year of liberation, since 2017 unexpectedly kept me in the path of struggle. The gift of this year was working with two wonderful families getting their homes sold for full value and forging new heart connections with both. That lit candles for me that will burn long after the pain and struggle is forgotten.
And isn’t that the promise of life in general and of Christianity specifically? No matter the trials we face in mortality, we have light and liberation always beckoning us forward: to new adventures, expanding horizons, and deeper joys.
May you all be blessed with a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!
Recently I had a crisis that almost brought me to my knees, all because I’m a single woman trying to deal with a major lawn project that was totally beyond me.
I bought a Fiskars reel mower this year – you know the kind we used in the 50’s that you just push around your yard – no motor? My idyllic vision of being a suburban farm girl took a serious blow when I realized I would have to mow in four (yeah, 4!) sections, spread out over the week, each week. This seriously crippled my time and energy to work on my first love, gardening.
As I struggled with these conflicting demands, I realized I was fighting a losing battle and something would have to give. Soon, however, a vision popped into my mind: (1) gravel in the front side yard by my drive which would provide extra parking and eventual access to utility yard behind my fence and (2) weed cloth all around the garden in back, both eliminating a lot of grass. Besides, this would reduce my weekly mowing by half – two sessions – and return me to my old Hippie dream of hanging out with herbs, butterflies, and huge squash plants.
Fast forward to the next Saturday. My darling granddaughter came over and we laboriously laid down commercial grade week cloth in the side yard and tacked it down with 100 6″ staples – a true labor of love on her part. I scheduled delivery of 3/4″ round gravel for the afternoon after the August 21 eclipse, and it showed up as promised. The very nice driver tried to honor my request to back his dump truck up to the top of the 45′ stretch of lawn so he could drop his load all along the future drive so we could have a polite volunteer party to rake it into place.
Well, the first thing that happened was one wheel started spinning and sinking about 8-10″ into the ground. I yelled, “STOP,” which he did and returned to the street but not before much of the weed cloth was pulled loose by about 2′ and dislodged many of those 100 clips!
I honestly didn’t know whether to cry or vomit . . . . I think only those women who are alone can understand how vulnerable and overwhelmed I felt. But the driver was nice and helped me re-position the weed cloth, then dumped the gravel in the middle. But now how to spread it out? Yet another crisis. Plus all those loose pins needed fixing.
The next day – Tuesday – I hit the wall. I basically had a spiritual temper tantrum. I told the Lord I was done. I could no longer stand living so close to the edge, that I needed more support, more help, and more blessings. And I needed them NOW.
Ironically, later that day I had to start a cleanse to prepare for a dreaded colonoscopy the next day. So as I purged physically, I continued to purge emotionally and spiritually. I recalled my friend Lindsey advising me once in a crisis that the first thing I needed to do was “thank the Lord for this adversity.”
Are you kidding me? Why would I do that? I could hear her voice saying, “Because that shows our faith that God will always bring about greater good than the size of the adversity.”
This thought was met with extremely wavering faith, but I believe in principle over emotion. So with rather poor grace, told the Lord I at least accepted the situation and would He please, please, please help me solve it? As I progressed forward on Wednesday, my procedure went very smoothly. I got a clean bill of health and was soon eating and feeling good.
My faith and optimism also miraculously returned: Of course great things were coming in my future. Plus insight and solutions kept coming to mind. Here’s what happened:
It turned out that the gravel delivery driver also had a small tractor, and he agreed to come the following week and spread the rock for a very small fee.
With sudden inspiration, I asked a large family to send over a couple of teenagers, who wanted some extra money, to help put down weed cloth in the back and weed – they had four!
Since they came before Tractor Guy, the five of us quickly finished tacking down weed cloth more securely in front, so we were ready to spread that gravel.
Then all four put down 170 feet of weed cloth around the outside perimeter of my back yard, clips and all, both jobs in only 3 hours – oh glorious day!
The two older boys refused pay since they had jobs. The two younger girls gladly accepted it with the promise of more work to come.
To top this off, the oldest boy volunteered his Sunday School class to come back and spread the gravel by hand, banishing my lingering worries that a tractor would disturb my already traumatized weed cloth in front.
Last Wednesday, a crew of six strong guys appeared with rakes, shovels and a wheelbarrow. Within 45 minutes, gravel was nice and smooth, all as Christian service. My contribution: bottled water and cookies from the local grocery.
Finally, yesterday, my two young women helpers were back pulling weeds from two neglected beds. Now I can cull strawberry runners and plant them in the newly cleared old bed. I can hand water my herb garden to hit neglected spots, and I’m already planning next year’s beds with great anticipation.
Here’s how it looks:
Side Yard Before Author’s Photo
Side Yard After Author’s Photo
Garden Path Conquered! Author’s Photo
Along with better balance, joy is back in full force. Not only did the Lord help me solve my problem but He used this experience to expand my faith and my spiritual tool kit for battling the darkness of our mortal limitations.
So when you find yourself stuck inside your soul, squeezed tight like a snake needing to shed its skin, remember to thank the Lord for it but also ASK for solutions, comfort, insight, and confirmation of your own plans. They will come.
I just watched a Mormon Tabernacle Choir broadcast, all of which was dedicated to the music and genius of Oscar Hammerstein II. Not only was it a musical feast, but my love for the Jewish people reawakened. It’s a little known fact that most Broadway musicals were a product of two great legacies: the American struggle to create itself and the Jewish struggle to recreate themselves. Jewish songwriters, lyricists, producers and directors wrote stories of outsiders who were lost, then found – a mirror of their own struggles over the centuries. But they didn’t directly tell their own story but instead told the story of the “Gentiles” (non-Jews) who founded this nation and gave birth to a vibrant new culture.
(Public Domain Photo)
So why are Jewish people telling the Gentiles’ story? To answer that, I needed to reflect back on Biblical history:
A close reading of the Old Testament tells the story of the 12 Tribes of Israel, descendants of Abraham, his son Isaac, and grandson Jacob (spiritual name: Israel) who had 12 children with multiple wives – hence the Twelve Tribes of Israel. Throughout ancient history, their fate rose and fell on the tides of righteousness versus idolatry, false values, and downright wickedness. The Tribe of Judah are the ancestors of today’s Jewish people, especially the sect known as Pharisees. They were the administrators of the Kingdom, a “chosen people” unto God, also self-chosen by their righteous living and dedication to that God. But the tribes of Israel struggled and fought with each other, ultimately dividing into the Northern Kingdom of 10 tribes and the Southern Kingdom based in Jerusalem, consisting of the tribes of Benjamin and Judah. When the Northern Kingdom had “ripened in iniquity,” they were scattered by the Assyrians in the year 721 B.C., absorbed into other cultures, and are now called The Lost Ten Tribes of Israel.
The Southern Kingdom lost the way of good living, embraced sin to the degree of sacrificing their children to idols and embracing every known sin, resulting in their vulnerability to outside enemies. They were conquered by the Babylonians and carried away captive in 586 BC, as a group, for 70 years; they were then allowed to return and rebuild Jerusalem and, unlike the Northern 10 tribes, were able to maintain their culture and religious identity. But since a segment of Judah (mostly Pharisees), ancestors of today’s Jewish people, crucified Christ, they and their descendants have been fated to be “scourged,” afflicted, and evicted from every homeland throughout history as a way to ultimately bring them back to God. They found a refuge in Spain for centuries until the Inquisition sent them fleeing, yet again. Pogroms in Russia, the Holocaust during WWII, and persecution elsewhere finally drove many to America where they again found a safe harbor. Their business experience, intelligence, and creative talents opened doors of opportunity, especially centered on both coasts. Of course, not all Jewish people followed good paths, just as people from all religious and cultural groups spawn evil doers. But those who reached upward created much of our wonderful American culture.
This morning I’ve listened to classics from Sound of Music, Carousel, Oklahoma, and State Fair, with the spoken word given by Oscar Hammerstein III describing how his grandfather gave us such wonderful stories and lyrics through his own continual struggle and much failure. He told his sons, when playing tennis, to “always look to the next ball, not the last ball” – good advice for us all!
This wonderful legacy is detailed in the PBS Special, Broadway Musicals, A Jewish Legacy. I saw it years ago, never forgot it, and ordered my own copy recently. Who doesn’t love the music of Barbara Streisand, George and Ira Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Leonard Bernstein, and Richard Rogers (Oscar Hammerstein’s creative partner) to name just the most famous?
Christian prophecy tells of the great restoration of the Twelve Tribes of Israel with Judah’s spiritual leadership centered in Jerusalem and “Zion” or the Tribe of Ephraim as temporal leaders centered in the “New Jerusalem.” Even though many of our struggles only result in partial victories now, we have the hope of absolute victory in Christ at His Second Coming.
Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God,
and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the name of my God,
and the name of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem,
which cometh down out of heaven from my God:
and I will write upon him my new name. (Revelation 3:12)
Last week, I spent some wonderful time in our local LDS Temple, “sealing” ancestors together as families. I could feel the spirits of those who especially wanted this work performed for them, all of which is conditional upon its acceptance by them. It’s my testimony that everyone who wants this blessing, who lives so as to qualify for it, and embraces the path to it, can bring that restoration and ultimate unity to their own family.
Gladly, we also have the promise that the family of God will be made whole. All human life on this planet has the same promise: to be restored to their original place in the family of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, or be adopted into it; then to be taken home to the God who made us to live eternally with Him, the great patriarchs, our ancestors and families. Those who arrive there are not chosen capriciously by God, but they choose themselves through their intentions, efforts and journey towards truth.
Salvation is so much bigger than human ideas and even experience. It’s my “hope in Christ” that all those who have wandered, struggled, and felt lost will find the eternal home they’re seeking. The Jews, by telling America’s story, really tell the story of all humanity, for which we owe them a huge debt of gratitude.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again!
We’ve all grew up hearing this classic nursery rhyme and probably didn’t think a thing of it, but I’ve found a deeper personal meaning in it.
I had a nearly idyllic childhood except for one thing – my family didn’t communicate well. We talked about each other but rarely with each other. Differences often weren’t resolved, people were misjudged, then talked about with either concern or condemnation. Even worse, buried feelings smoldered and burned long afterwards, sometimes erupting without warning.
Not only did this damage our family, but it broke the fragile structure of my early self-esteem into many painful pieces that I’ve struggled to put back together most of my life. And don’t we all have broken places inside? Disappointed hopes, things we’re ashamed we did, ways we’ve been wounded, and ways we’ve wounded others?
After my marriage broke up, I had to look at those broken places and ask how they led me to marry someone who was never going to be right for the long haul. What in me brought me to this place?
I revisited family stories and family patterns. I studied psychology. I practiced better communication with my children, my friends, and at work. But I made only limited progress before I discovered God, prayer, and religion. What a great source of guidance, healing, and power beyond my own that’s been!
As stated by playwright Eugene O’Neill in my About This Blog message to the right:
Man is born broken.
He lives by mending,
And the grace of God is the glue.
That grace has led me to insight and ultimate healing, not in a single event but in round after round of growth cycles.
Scholars tell us that fairy tales, legends, and poetry often contain “archetypes” or classic themes common to many cultures throughout history. Cinderella tells a classic tale of adversity and rags to riches. The Three Little Pigs instructs us to not take short cuts to quality. But Rumpelstiltskin is the one that speaks most strongly about my path. It is a veiled tale of challenge and breakthrough as the Miller’s daughter, with magical help, spins ever larger rooms of straw into gold before she gets to marry the King. Go back and read it. Or read it HERE.
Each healing crisis in my journey seemed bigger than the last and more daunting, but God’s grace always appeared after I had worked hard and also sacrificed something precious to me: my pride, my laziness, my uncaring about others, etc. Marrying the King beckoned to me as symbolic of the final piece of healing that meant I could truly step out of the shadow of the past and fully turn towards a brighter future, with a healthier relationship with God and my fellow man.
This all dovetails with a symbolic dream I had soon after my divorce. I recalled it last week and shared it with my granddaughter. In this dream, I was instructed to sit in a wood straight-backed chair on the stone edge of a pool of water, with its back to it! I had to flip over backwards, chair and all, and land in the water (without the chair hitting me in the process), and then swim to the bottom of the pool to discover something that was there, waiting for me.
Being the physical coward that I am, I was very hesitant to even try. But finally, I gathered up my courage, hurled my legs up and over my head, and fell into the water well away from the falling chair. With relief, I then faced the dive, being a confident swimmer. But as I looked into the murky water, I again shrank from the challenge. I dove, and my worst fears were confirmed as ominous seaweed undulated up towards me, threatening me with its slimy touch. As I swam, though, I found it couldn’t actually touch me. I kept swimming (oddly not needing a breath) until suddenly the seaweed disappeared and I only saw the off-white sandy bottom of the pool. Delicate yellow-green light wafted down. The whole scene lost its menace. It felt familiar and safe. So I swam around looking for what I was sent to find.
Very shortly I came upon a watch lying on the sand all by itself. I looked closer: It was a Mickey Mouse watch with a yellow patent leather band. I laughed at the whimsy of it, picked it up and thought, this is the gift of time!
Then I woke up. I knew it was important and contained a message I needed. I was newly divorced and just starting on my journey of self-discovery and healing. A friend suggested the yellow color was important – that it was “the color of overcoming.” I decided I liked that meaning and it would be a symbolic banner to encourage me when times grew dark. But it remained only a mental image until 2004 when I went to Disneyland with my son’s family. I bought a Mickey Mouse watch to honor this dream. My ongoing quest was approaching 30 years, but oddly I didn’t wear it often. It ended up in my jewelry box, forgotten and not running.
Just lately I feel that God has put together the last of my inner child’s broken pieces. I’ve found that warm, white sand foundation in my soul, and I came across that watch. So now I’ll get a new battery and wear it with a laugh while I wait to see what the “Gift of Time” means in my life!
And isn’t Humpty Dumpty really just symbolic of mortality for every single one of us? The process of life breaks all of us in pieces, one way or another. I recently watched a PBS American Masters special celebrating the life of composer and singer Carole King (trailer HERE, but whole episode probably not still available). In it, her early talent is very evident, but she had her own “broken pieces” and attributed her success to persevering – just never giving up. She said, One day that door does open and if you don’t persevere, you won’t be there when it does. “It” meaning the break-through into creative and personal success she achieved after many heartbreaks and setbacks.
So, let’s none of us quit. Let’s push through whatever life throws at us until we “can marry the King” – whatever that means to each of us – and we can ultimately return to our heavenly King to be welcomed home forever.
Today, September 13, 2015, is highly significant in the Hebrew calendar.
At sundown today, the Feast of Trumpets begins. I knew very little about this until last night. I did know about Passover in the spring and how it commemorates the Israelites’ miraculous exodus from ancient Egypt, led by Moses. It’s also the day Christ was crucified, to be resurrected on the third day, he being the first fruits of the Atonement.
According to an article I read last night, The Golden Plates and the Feasts of Trumpets, the Passover signifies the Early Harvest or the first harvest of souls at the time of Christ. The fall holy days symbolize the Later Harvest, or the harvest of souls in the Last Days – the times in which we live!
This day is part of three High Holy Days or Days of Awe:
The Feast of Trumpets or Rosh Hashanah – This is a day to remember how the ancient Israelites escaped from both Egypt and Babylon. In both cases, many spirituals truths and practices had been lost. So, even today, Israel remembers and begins the repentance process to become more spiritually righteous. It is also the Jewish New Year, a time for new beginnings. It is signaled by a single long note, offering God’s hope to the truly penitent.
The Day of Atonement or Yom Kippur – This is a day of fasting, reflection and repentance, about 10 days after The Feast of Trumpets. It is signaled by a series of short trumpet notes, symbolizing man’s weeping for his sins and failings, and asking for the Lord’s forgiveness. This year it begins at sundown, September 22, and ends at nightfall on the 23rd.
The Feast of Tabernacles or Sukkot means receiving the Lord’s forgiveness and a return to grace – a completed harvest. It is signaled by another single long sound from the trumpet. This year, it begins on Monday, September 28, and ends seven days later on Sunday, October 4.
Even though Latter-day Saints don’t officially observe Jewish holy days, I plan to use this three-week period to look within, see what I can and need to improve, and recommit myself to the Christian path. I especially want to repent of hardheartedness, my tendency to hold onto resentment, and my failure many times to love others as I should.
I also have a great love for the Jewish people as well as empathy for their long sufferings and worldwide wanderings over many centuries. It mirrors my own wanderings through a wilderness of unfulfilled hopes and some negative generational patterns that have dogged my footsteps. Plus Mormons believe that we are part of the House of Israel just as the Jews are. Some scholars believe it’s significant that the Angel Moroni delivered the Book of Mormon plates to Joseph Smith on Rosh Hashanah, September 22, 1827. It then became God’s voice of warning to all the world in our day – a trumpet in its own right.
I saw a PBS special this last year on how Broadway musicals have been mostly created by Jewish writers, composers, producers, and directors. They wrote about alienation and a desire to belong. They set their stories in the most American of settings with non Jewish characters: Oklahoma, South Pacific, The Sound of Music, Carousel, Showboat, and many more. My heart went out to them in their desire to find a home in America and a cultural identity integrated with the story of our nation. In many respects, they’ve succeeded and prospered, while adding to the greatness of our nation.
Today, I join with them in celebrating our common history, in affirming our common allegiance to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and finally in looking forward to the ultimate harvest of souls through the return of our Messiah – the ultimate new beginning.
Today is also the 29th day of Elul, the last day of the Shemitah or Sabbath year, but that will be the subject of another post.
May you all burn with a “perfect brightness of hope” that only a hope in Christ can kindle and not put out. And may we each sound a trumpet of invitation and hope to those around us.
The Angel Moroni, Raleigh NC Temple Courtesy lds.org
Last week I saw a movie with huge impact: The Cokeville Miracle about how a small elementary school coped with a mad man holding over 100 students and teachers hostage with a bomb and guns – every parents’ and teachers’ worst nightmare. It happened for real in 1986 and details of how this all played out are based on fact. This is an LDS produced movie, not widely available, but if you can find it, I highly recommend it.
In today’s world, it’s easy to become overwhelmed by bad news and anxiety about the future. It’s easy to feel small, powerless, and vulnerable in the face of big business, big government and a sense of evil growing in the world. It’s also easy to think that the only way to protect ourselves is with a similar strength and worldly power. This movie, however, suggests another way, and one rarely, if ever, talked about in mainstream media: the way of faith and spiritual protection.
Pardon the spoiler! Innocent teachers and children were protected by angelic beings, some of whom they recognized as ancestors, after uttering many simple prayers for help. The bomber’s wife accidentally triggered the bomb while the bomber was in the restroom. He shot himself when he realized his plan was failing, and she was the only other casualty. The bomb set off ammunition that shot all over the room but no one else was killed or even seriously injured. Why?
A teacher had previously taped off a line around the bomber and his wife to keep the kids at a distance. Several children reported seeing beings that looked like “light bulbs lit up” standing all along that line protecting them. Their power kept the bomb blast from radiating outwards which could have killed everyone in the room. Instead the blast only went upward through the ceiling.
What brought the angels? The whole class had been praying silently, then aloud. I believe the faith of children is especially powerful. In any case, it worked. Read an account in the Deseret News remembering the actual event: CLICK HERE
The Book of Mormon teaches us about faith and miracles. Here’s my favorite scripture:
For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same
yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men
save it be according to their faith. (Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 27:23)
I believe we can all seek after miracles when we need them. We can exercise faith “like a little child” and, God willing, we will receive divine help. Sometimes accident, disease, and death are part of His plan for us, with all suffering and losses made up in the next life. That’s the rub, and it requires a huge amount of faith to not become bitter or depressed.
But when you’re feeling particularly powerless or vulnerable, remember the Old Testament story of Elisha and his servant in 2 Kings 6:8-23. The vast armies of Syria gather against little Israel. The Israelite servant turns to Elisha, the prophet, in fear: Alas, my master! how shall we do?
Elisha replies with this famous statement: “Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.“
The children of Cokeville saw the unseen powers of heaven marshalled in their defense. I testify that we too can call upon angels and “chariots of fire” to protect us when we need them. They are greater than any evil that surrounds us.
