Ordained

I was ordained an interfaith minister by the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine last weekend. The ten ordinands each had 90 seconds to preach. This was my 90.

Tana and I after the ordination ceremony. Thank you, Leslie Frank, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, for making my absolutely gorgeous stole.

I don’t know what ordination is,

but it feels like this is my soul in the springtime.

I think I’m a little green sprout,

popping up out of the dark soil,

declaring myself to the sun,

announcing myself to you.

Here I am.

Who am I?

I am this little green sprout of spirit.

I am of the earth.

I am of my ancestors,

of the great darkness and light that is the history of

my people,

the peoples of this land,

all the peoples of all the lands.

I am their son,

and yours,

the son of my mother and of my father,

ancient son of the big bang

sprouting impossibly new as myself,

to be what only this sprout can possibly be:

me.

A great-grandmother oak split yesterday outside our home.

Her other half still stands,

but certainly not forever and maybe not for long.

She was a sprout once,

and I’ll fall someday,

and so will you,

but for now

we get to see,

and be,

ourselves,

together.

I don’t know what ordination is,

but I know I’m grateful you came here to see me,

be with me,

and to see us,

the ten of us here,

the hundreds of us here,

the many uncountable millions of us here,

always here.

May we see, and be with,

what’s always here,

who’s always here,

before us and behind us,

within us,

always,

call it sacred,

call it beauty,

call it me,

call it you.

May we see ourselves, and see each other,

true.