Communion in Dublin – by David Brauner

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I’m sitting in a pew in a one-thousand-year-old cathedral in Dublin, Eire bathed by an ethereal choir music of organ and voices that rings off the traditional stones majestically, such as you would possibly expertise on the coronation of a king or queen; listening to a priest, a girl, preaching love and acceptance, calling out the distinctive challenges of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, in a rustic the place centuries of battle and oppression and violence and division proceed to weigh on the inhabitants, like a medieval millstone, whose forbearers suffered a very merciless occupation- their land and rights taken, the follow of their chosen faith banned, financial and academic alternatives denied, the place they endured intentional hunger in a famine that left a million lifeless; the place a lingering animosity, born from this darkish historical past, refuses to extinguish, like an unsettled spirit that may’t relaxation, it makes its presence identified when agitated, a subtext that haunts life right here and casts an extended shadow over most all the pieces;

and my ideas drift to my homeland, America, the place my forebearers journeyed in pursuit of freedom and alternative, and the place at present, the unthinkable appears attainable, that the rule of regulation and the underpinnings of our democracy should not immutable, that there isn’t a assure that our freedoms will endure, that what was paid for in blood by those that proceeded us is in danger, whereas we, essentially the most privileged and blessed society within the historical past of humankind divide into tribes, mired in abject disagreement on all the pieces, together with the fact of occasions that unfold proper earlier than our eyes, after which, my gaze shifts to an African-looking priest, robed within the elaborate clothes of the Church of Eire, processing previous me down the marbled middle aisle, holding a bejeweled workers in his left hand and an eight or nine-year outdated boy within the different, maybe a relative- sneakered, shirt untucked, scruffy like every youth his age, shuffling alongside the stiffed-back, formally-garbed priest, tracing the steps of untold worshipers over a thousand years, the Aristocracy and commoners, kings and queens and serfs, younger and outdated, and the Scripture is read- the unchanging, enduring phrase of God that recollects an itinerate preacher, Jesus, being admonished by the spiritual authorities of his day, who’re so fastened on the follow of their faith that they’re unable to behold miracles, carried out by the Son of God, proper earlier than their eyes, as retold in Mark 2 and three:

“One Sabbath Jesus was going via the grainfields, and as his disciples walked alongside, they started to choose some heads of grain.  The Pharisees mentioned to him, ‘Look, why are they doing what’s illegal on the Sabbath?’ He answered, ‘Have you ever by no means learn what David did when he and his companions have been hungry and in want? Within the days of Abiathar the excessive priest, he entered the home of God and ate the consecrated bread, which is lawful just for monks to eat. And he additionally gave some to his companions.’ Then he mentioned to them, ‘The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath’; And this from Mark 3: “And [Jesus] mentioned to them, ‘Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do hurt, to save lots of life or to kill?’ However they have been silent. And he regarded round at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of coronary heart, and mentioned to the person, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored’;

and so forth this sabbath, on this magnificent constructing, on this historical, deeply burdened and abundantly joyous land, the wafer melts in my mouth, the formality reminding me of my First Holy Communion; the style of bitter wine taken from a gold chalice, wiped by the priest with a white linen fabric as every congregant partakes, earlier than an unlimited altar, a small tear wells within the nook of my eye because the priest recites the promise of our religion, a covenant that transcends everything of human historical past, each tragic and triumphant, a therapeutic thread that knits us collectively via time into this very second, she says: “Wherever you might be from and no matter you imagine, you might be welcome to obtain on the desk of the Lord.”  The music pairing is an up to date demo of “God’s Prolonged Hand.”  Till subsequent time, keep protected, be courageous and preserve strolling within the gentle. 

God’s Prolonged Hand
Leaves drift on the breeze
within the afternoon solar
a smooth October gentle
baptizes everybody
our children kick up the piles
of their harmless enjoyable
and God’s prolonged hand
it touches everybody

The least will improve
simply down the road
the wrong way up and proper aspect up
all in good time
the hour possibly be late
however the day remains to be younger
and God’s prolonged hand
it touches everybody

God’s prolonged hand
He makes the planets spin
we’ll say goodbye for now  
however I’ll see you once more

Contradiction and truth,
one factor that I can see,
I’ve been stone blind
to what’s proper in entrance of me
from eternity ’til now
and again to day one
God’s prolonged hand
it touches everybody

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