God's holy presence shines everywhere

“We” were a group of friends from church: single, widowed, divorced, our parish priests and sisters. Walking the Sabino Canyon Road became one of our group rituals.

The memory of those moonlit walks lives on in me like it was yesterday. The names of those with whom I shared that time are printed on my heart. Today, some of us are thousands of miles apart, and others are no longer with us. And one is my husband of now 30 years.

The high moment of our time together was to stop midway, sit in the middle of the road (the canyon was closed to traffic at night), and break out a little tablecloth and snacks. We shared the words, the stories of our lives as we shared wine, crackers and cheese. Informal as it was, it always felt intimate, even liturgical.

The Christian liturgy contains two parts: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The holy Word, and the sacred Feast. In the first, we hear the biblical stories of faith proclaimed and reflect on them. In the second, we remember Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples, and then we share in that meal, the holy Presence, in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. Bread, the work of human hands, and wine, the fruit of the vine, common natural elements are transformed. Transforming us.

Jesus said, “Wherever two or three are gathered in my name, I am there” (Matthew 18:20). In the Liturgy of the Church, in intentional gatherings large and small, in every corner of the Earth. And perhaps in the stories and the bread and wine of a small group of friends on a moonlit night in Sabino Canyon.

God’s holy Presence shines forth all around us, even in the most natural and mundane of things. If we do not pay attention, we may miss it. Anne Sexton’s (edited) poem “Welcome Morning” describes well her own open-eyed wonder:

There is joy in all:

in the chapel of eggs that I cook

each morning,

in the outcry from the kettle that heats my coffee

each morning,

in the spoon and the chair

that cry “Hello there, Anne”

each morning,

in the godhead of the table

that I set my silver, plate, cup upon

each morning.

All this is God,

right here in my pea-green house

each morning,

and I mean,

though often forget,

to give thanks,

to faint down by the kitchen table

in a prayer of rejoicing

as the holy birds at the kitchen window

peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,

let me paint a thank-you on my palm

for this God, this laughter of the morning,

lest it go unspoken.

What small things have shouted out to you, “God is here!”? What mundane times and things have surprised you with their holiness? Who have you shared your life with, your heart and words with, and known that God was somehow mysteriously present in your midst?

Let us value each God-graced moment, place and person. Let us walk (or sit) in the moonlight, offering praise and thanksgiving for every good thing, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.“All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God (shines in) all” (Text: Cecil Frances Alexander. Music: 17th-century English melody; lyrics edited for this article).

Tucson faith leaders, we would like to include your original sermon or scriptures of encouragement. Sermons must be written by the person submitting them, not borrowed from another source or writer. If you are a faith leader from any religion or denomination, please contact Sara Brown at sbbrown@tucson.com.