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I went to a Lenten service for ceasefire that was led in front of the White House today. First there was a Catholic Mass and then an ecumenical service.
I sometimes participate in religious rituals outside of my own, as a way of honoring our shared and diverse experience of being.
This is the first time I have gone to a Christian service on Ash Wednesday. No ashes for me. I was willing to, however, to participate in the invitation to participate in a call and response. The speaker listed the heinous atrocities that our tax dollars are funding, and the response was the acknowledgment that “I have blood on my hands.”
I’m still complicit even if I am letting those with power know that I do not agree, although that is better than being silent. One of the religious speakers suggested that repentance does not mean regret. It means acknowledgement and a change of behavior.

A friend who was a skilled gardener whose taste in gardening ran to the subtle and quiet (think Vita Sackville-West’s all white garden at Sissinghurst), used to tease me for my attraction to lush, tropical blooms.
There is a time and place for everything in this world–the quiet and demure, the loud and outrageous.
The wider range we can appreciate, and the better we can know the optimal use and place for things, the better we will flow and dance and integrate into the joyous possibilities in the fabric of being.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
This would make more sense to me without the pronouns (and specific theism), but otherwise it has some resonance.
