IT WAS LIKE a metaphor happening in front of my eyes. That’s sort of an odd way to put it, but here’s what happened.
About a week ago at the winery, we hosted a celebration of our region’s mushrooms with an event after hours. Vicki had prepared some yummy light bites to match some of our wines, and I had a really good fire going in the firepit on the patio.
The weather forecast had been for a major “first of fall” atmospheric river kind of storm, but for that evening, our Olympic Mountains did their “rainshadow” thing and we were spared rain and wind that hit other places.
The wine was good and the mushroom tidbits were great, and over time, a small group settled into a few chairs and benches we had set up around the fire.
Conversation and good-natured laughter with the friendly crackles of the fire. Orange and red colors of the Japanese maple leaves, back lit from the up lights of the garden, reminded me of stained-glass windows in a cathedral.
But here is where the “metaphor” thing comes in. Standing from my host position a few feet away from the blazing fire, I began to realize I was watching a new community develop as more and more people slowed as they passed by the firepit instead of making a bee line to the parking lot.
I watched as people already sitting around the fire just kept making room for more people to bring over a chair and sit with them. No one had to say anything. Everyone just naturally made room for the new folks who wanted to enjoy the fire and chat.
It was past the time the event was to be over, but I put another couple logs on the fire. I loved what I was seeing and what our guests were experiencing.
After a few more minutes, I just had to share with the group my sense we were all experiencing something very special. I’m not sure they appreciated my butting in, but I’m a Deacon and I felt a mini sermon coming on.
It was a brief homily and no scripture was quoted, but the point was that, over the last few minutes, they had done something quite wonderful. Without saying a word, they all had just kept making room for others to come and sit for a chat. Camaraderie was kindled, and I said I wished our openness to others that night could be bottled and given freely. It would be alcohol-free, of course.
I didn’t say it then, but on reflection, I wonder if that night we just participated in helping fulfill the Lord’s Prayer’s first lines … “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
What I mean is, in God’s kingdom, all are welcome and warmed.
Fulfilling the desire of that part of the prayer isn’t just up to God to make happen. It’s up to us as God’s children to help it happen, one fire pit at a time. And it is as natural to do as making room around a fire pit for new friends. No words are needed, just care for a new neighbor.
As we approach the season of feasts and festivals, consider widening your circle of guests somehow. And if that isn’t your thing, then something simple like smile at a stranger or let the person with a full shopping cart behind you go first.
Little things like this will be good starts to making neighbors of strangers and helping make a bit of heaven come to earth.
Now, to that next part of the Lord’s Prayer — how to assure we all have our daily bread.
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Issues of Faith is a rotating column by religious leaders on the North Olympic Peninsula. Don Corson is an Ordained Deacon in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) and the winemaker for a local winery. He is also the minister for Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Forks. His email is ccwinemaker@gmail.com
