Thursday Evening Covenant Group, 4-25-02, SUMMIT HOUSE, TJMC

DINNER 6:30-7:00 (30 minutes)

CHECK-IN (15 minutes)

CHALICE LIGHTING AND OPENING WORDS (2 minutes)

We arrive out of many singular rooms,

Walking over the branching streets.

We come to be assured that brothers and sisters surround us,

To restore their images on our eyes.

We enlarge our voices in common speaking and singing.

We try again that solitude found in the midst of those

Who with us seek their hidden reckonings.

Our eyes reclaim the remembered faces;

Their voices stir the surrounding air.

The warmth of their hands assures us,

And the gladness of our spoken names.

This is the reason of cities, of homes, of assemblies in the houses of worship.

It is good to be with one another.

--Kenneth L. Patton (Singing the Living Tradition)

DISCUSSION (45 minutes)

GRATITUDE--Questions to ponder if and as you like:

For what in your life are you most grateful?

How does being in touch with the feeling of gratitude change you?

How about the obverse: for what are you ungrateful?

How does feeling ungrateful change you?

Should we be grateful for lessons learned from undeserved suffering?

What's the difference between an "attitude of gratitude" and denial of reality?

Does anyone you know appear grateful an unusual amount of the time? Why do you think they feel that way?

6-MONTH CELEBRATION: WRITTEN GIFTS (20 minutes)

CHECK-OUT (5 minutes)

CLOSING WORDS (3 minutes)

"Since the day after the attack, I have become somewhat superstitious in my devotion to the park. I go there knowing full well that everything is not okay, but trusting that things are okay enough for now….

This past weekend, everyone noticed the fire truck. It came, as many fire trucks had in the past, to investigate smoke rising out of the park. This was smoke, thankfully, from a barbecue. How those firemen must have loved that barbecue, and in a flash, every nuisance barbeque before it. And the people at the barbecue certainly loved the firefighters. Brooklyn had lost so many of its bravest in the rescue effort, and the people in the park that Sunday surrounded the truck, reaching over each other to grasp hold of every firefighter, an entire chorus singing, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" The firefighters clasped all the hands they could. I could barely pedal past the sight, slowed as I was by heartache and joy.

The greatest sacrament that survival administers is gratitude. After my bike ride, I ate a sacramental hot dog (the best I’d ever tasted) from a sacramental vendor working a sacramental cart at a sacramental entrance to the sacramental park that had been blocks away from me for years. Today I am reminding myself to breathe, to live in my place and time as best I can, in search of the next right thing to do. This is difficult, because lately, my disorientation is marked. Yet each day that I stay as a guest on this green earth suddenly seems outrageous good fortune. Between the routine crying jags and ecstatic moments, I plan for the future, which will arrive whether or not I hold my breath. This coming weekend, for instance, I plan--Insha a Allah, the Muslims say, God willing– to bike several more laps around the park, fast enough to forget my fear, breath ragged, flying past mile after mile of wonder."

from The Sacrament of Gratitude, by Kelly Murphy Mason