Marianne's FLASH💥DEVOS Podcast

1 Thessalonians 3:6-7

[Timothy] has told us that you always have pleasant memories of us and that you long to see us, just as we also long to see you. Therefore, brothers and sisters, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord.

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Psalm 76:7-10

For You fill us with wonder! You, who know our innermost being, You forgive us and raise us up. From the depth of our soul You call us to awaken, to grow toward harmony and wholeness. You well up in our hearts with the inward call to liberate the oppressed of the earth.

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Hear this call to action fill the cathedral of souls. Now is the time to be present in the world with humility and wonder, a spirit of hope and possibility.

Be a light in your beloved community.

“I spend most of my time considering this three part journey: inner travel (healing and growth), local travel (how we use our gifts in community for good), and global travel (experiencing this amazing world),” *Laura Hoy writes. Find out more about the six caminos she has walked and the Enneagram work she facilitates from her Iowa home base > thewholeheartedjourney.org

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Thanks to all my readers, listeners, and those who’ve wandered by to pray with me through Flash💥Devos these past few months. I offer you this gift of a walk-along with me on a visit to the town where I grew up and how I found perspective among its buried and living treasures.

Goodbye to that Holy Ghost

by Marianne Abel-Lipschutz

I said goodbye to a lot more than my Aunt Mary Jane when I attended her funeral in the west Chicago suburb where I grew up. She was 92, and had died on October 1st after having spent several years in a nursing home following Uncle Joe’s death in 2017. I hadn’t visited Glen Ellyn in twenty years. From hearing the Chicago & Northwestern train whistles on the incoming ride to passing the Seven Dwarfs Restaurant (for the best banana splits after swim team practice) on the way out, the 36-hour visit surprised me by refashioning my past.

Mary Jane was a mythical pixie dynamo affectionately called Bebe who shepherded eight children into adulthood. She and my Uncle Joe had moved from New Jersey to Glen Ellyn in 1963 to be near our family with (eventually) five kids where we could all live happily ever after. Unexpectedly in 1965, my father accepted a transfer to Belgium for four years, and then to suburban Philadelphia. No one in my family ever lived in Glen Ellyn again. We became “those who move on.”

Glen Ellyn’s gorgeous trees lit up every street that autumn--birch, every kind of oak, Eastern white pine, walnut, firs, junipers, cottonwood. Box elder, black maple, silver maple, and sugar maple are native to DuPage County. At the last tree census in 2020, the county tallied over 19 million trees, 21 times more trees than people.

This protective canopy surrounds my strongest memories, along with the black silty clay loam of our yard, turquoise waves in the swim club pool, and afternoons crouched in the sumac thickets watching our pennies flatten on the railroad tracks when trains roared past. And peonies. I remembered how my mother’s luscious magenta peonies shook their tight fists in the wind before dancing like Byzantine jewels in our garden’s hot June glow.

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Driving toward my cousin’s house, I passed Main Street School where I attended kindergarten, now a vibrant community center. We lived for a decade at 248 Crest Road six blocks away. Our street was blocked for resurfacing, so I parked and walked into an eerie hologram of the past. As kids, the concrete sidewalk paved our way around the world. I didn’t recognize many locations until I walked by them because we’d left Glen Ellyn before I drove cars.

What was once our foursquare Georgian home looked externally the same but the linden tree in the front yard had been cut down long enough ago that only the stump remained as a dent in the grass. The flagstone knee-wall along the neighbor’s driveway that propped us up for games of marbles had disappeared. Wrinkles and puckers marked the deteriorated asphalt alongside our old yard. I chose not to strike up a conversation with a woman who hustled packages from the screen door into her SUV, clearly in a hurry.

I was not in any hurry at all. Anonymous on the sidewalk, I relished my detachment. I felt no triggers whatsoever. No desire to enter the house, talk to the residents, or wander the yard--affirming years of therapy that had effectively deactivated the traumas that had occurred in that building. I felt clean and clear and wildly entertained by a preposterous seasonal spectacle that filled the front yard.

Many neighbors still competed with garish Halloween decorations that revealed the sinister side of suburbia. Gigantic skeletons, gravestones with rhyming couplets, supersize wooly-legged spiders clamped over front doors, and spooky witches with broomsticks strung through tree limbs reflected the nightmares some kids experienced inside their homes. Inflatable goons tossed in the breeze, shaking the laughter out of me like a howl rising from the deep.

Skulls tucked under the lime-green Mophead Hydrangeas scoffed, too. Three life-sized sorcerers tended a cauldron in front of the dining room window. A cheerleader skeleton doing splits bobbed her Golden Eagles pompoms in the breeze, next to bone-white flamingoes, hideous gargoyles, and body parts sticking out of the dirt.

As a young girl, I’d had a recurring dream of evading the hard things inside our home by flying up into the air like Casper the Friendly Ghost in my Saturday morning cartoons. Then I’d dart underground where I’d be safe (albeit buried alive). Now I laughed out loud at that lawn littered with death as if my past had finally breached daylight.

One plastic headstone read, “Dear Departed Brother Dave. He chased a bear into a cave.” The current homeowners had no clue how uncannily well that metaphor fit what had actually happened with our older brother David. One younger brother, who also suffered at the hands of dear departed Dave, captured the scene by saying, “Wow, that’s mind-bendingly weird.”

A cosmic cleansing helped me see this home place as a dollar-store freak show of my traumatized imagination. Liberated from its past, I could acknowledge my formative Glen Ellyn years as the source of safe place markers that I still respond to everywhere: echoes of trains; standing with trees; feeling safe on dark soil.

***

I felt caught off-guard in a different way the next morning. Aunt Bebe was the last of the elder generation whose passing drew friends and relatives from across the country. They honored her briefly in the open casket stationed against the funeral home’s wall then stood in groups, leaving empty chairs lined up in rows in the center of the room. I imagined the angels of Aunt Bebe’s former life taking their seats and reminiscing, too. It became a family reunion in the front parlor of a funeral home without the booze.

After two hours, the group processed as a caravan the few blocks through town to St. Petronille’s Catholic Church where many of us had grown up and attended grade school. The church recently celebrated its 75th anniversary by restoring the interior to its original condition--an unadorned nave ordered by wooden pews oriented toward the white Carrara marble altar, all of it illuminated through gigantic windows supporting a vaulted ceiling. Two chandeliers lent an elegantly domestic feel, as if we were guests in a fabulous dining hall. Measuring ten by seventeen feet and named “Light of the World,” each chandelier held 5438 crystals and 140 bulbs.

I had not identified with this denomination in decades although I had reclaimed commitments from my childhood faith through the spiritual traditions and peer support of 12-Step recovery programs in my adult years. As I glimpsed the open chapel ahead of all the cousins who walked informally behind Bebe’s casket through the narthex, I felt curious and glad to be back in a real church. Nowadays many religious programs rent buildings constructed for other purposes--a gymnasium, an old department store in a strip mall, even someone’s living room or screened-in porch.

I felt swept up all over again into this spectacular sacred space where a brilliant atmospheric mysticism had infused my nature with the fullness of a spiritual life. The clear glass windows directed our eyes to the skies, including but overriding the difficulties outside.

Since our last name began with the letter A, we had always sat in the first seat or the first pew. There I was again by default as a member of the bereaved extended family, second one in from the aisle in the first pew. I surveyed the altar spread before me, restored architecturally and updated liturgically. Adult males still led the mass but they were attended by two altar girls, roles my girlfriends and I were never allowed. Despite the limits of discrimination, I felt safe there: questioning, alive, stimulated…

Matthew 23:27-28

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”

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Draw on the power of sacred speech responsibly.

Heidi Pitre’s series, “A Permanent Record,” features paintings and drawings on vintage library borrower cards. “My work is a collection of short stories. It shares messages from the perspective of different people who understand what it means to be a floundering mother, an awkward daughter, an exhausted housewife, a scorned lover, or someone who has been through hell and back,” she writes. “This project intends to open conversations between generations. It provokes discussions of the past, introducing old titles to new readers.” Explore heidipitre.com/library-cards, @heidipitreart, or @apermanentrecord.

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James 2:25-26

In the same way, was not even Rahab the prostitute considered righteous for what she did when she gave lodging to the spies and sent them off in a different direction? As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead. +

Being “beloved” identifies us as kin to Jesus, his followers. Even through our messy and troubled lives, we are beloved. The apostle Paul called us “Christ’s ambassadors.” Reconciled to God, we can seek the flourishing of all.

Be loved as you love others.

Ceramic sculptor *Maria Wickwire says her sculpture represents “Elli, who is the Norse Goddess of Old Age. It is said that even the powerful god Thor could not defeat her.” Maria creates ceramic sculptures that reveal feminine archetypes, hoping to encourage healing and forgiveness in our sometimes splintering world. Her studio overlooks Big Lake in northwest Washington. Find Maria on socials and at Mariawickwire.com

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Titus 2:7-8

In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness and soundness of speech that cannot be condemned, so that those who oppose you may be ashamed because they have nothing bad to say about us.

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This image of Earth, “the Blue Marble photo,” can also be described as a global symbol of a “seamless, borders-free view of a fragile planet” in space. A toy for play or a world worth holy stewardship?

Offer our time and place as a multi-generational gift.

The Blue Marble photo, captured by the crew of Apollo 17 on Dec. 7, 1972.

https://svs.gsfc.nasa.gov/vis/a030000/a030600/a030613/blue_marble_apollo_17_19721207

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Daniel 3:16-18

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. 17 If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. 18 But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”

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How our faith shows up in public supports people on the fringes. Speaking confidently together strengthens our resolve.

Gather in peace.

*Kelson Thorne paints “large-scale murals and public art installations that represent the Appalachian communities, businesses, and cultures I grew up around.” In an interview, Thorne explained how this mural is a metaphor for regrowth and rejuvenation, inspired by the wildfires that burned through Grant and Hardy County in March 2024. “Despite their devastation, wildfires enrich the soil and create new habitats for plants and animals,” he said. Enjoy his other works at https://www.kelsonthorne.com

*Deirdre Purdy is a digital creator in Chloe, West Virginia who posts “Pillion Viewpoint” from the back seat of a BMW regularly on “Adventure Rider” magazine. See advrider.com

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Exodus 33:9-11

When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the Lord would speak with Moses. When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise and bow down, all of them, at the entrance of their tent. Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend.

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Would you invite God inside?

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Psalm 106:1-3

Hallelujah!

Thank God! And why?

Because God is good, because God’s love lasts.

But who on earth can do it—

declare God’s mighty acts, broadcast all God’s praises?

You’re happy when you do what’s right,

happy when you form the habit of justice.

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Who do you consider responsible for the way the world is? With great compassion and lovingkindness, look around. Be grateful for the long view, imperishable light, the reality of everlasting love.

Figure out how to “form the habit of justice.” Celebrate the goodness in your community.

In Favianna Rodriguez’s first major public art project (2020), she celebrates the historical presence of Latinx families in San Francisco’s Mission District. The overall intention is to encourage the whole community to enjoy the natatorium and surrounding park as safe spaces. Enjoy more of her work at https://favianna.com/

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1 Corinthians 10:23-24

Looking at it one way, you could say, “Anything goes. Because of God’s immense generosity and grace, we don’t have to dissect and scrutinize every action to see if it will pass muster.” But the point is not to just get by. We want to live well, but our foremost efforts should be to help others live well.

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Insisting on our rights may not be constructive or beneficial yet sometimes it’s absolutely the right thing.

Seek the flourishing of everyone in our communities with a humbling, broad vision.

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