To Zion

Nothing aggravates me more than listening to our children fight. They get along pretty well even though they are polar opposites in personality, interests and abilities. Each has a fine mind and a kind heart; and while one is blessed with a good amount of emotional intelligence, the other has uncanny spatial and mechanical abilities. Inevitably the right and left brains in their little heads clash and when that happens I go bat-shit crazy. But when they work in harmony there is simply nothing more beautiful.

A few weeks back we sang one of my favorite hymns at church and I was quite taken aback during my last visit to my mom at the Jewish nursing home when I overheard the hymn, my hymn, playing over the loudspeakers in the garden overlooked by her room. That day was Yom Kippur and the place was busy with preparations for a celebratory dinner to break the fast on this high holiday of atonement. My befuddlement continued when “Great is thy Faithfulness” was next on the playlist. This last one was a favorite of the children when they were younger. I could not help but wonder how the hell the Jews had gotten hold of the Methodist Hymnal…? And then I remembered; we are after all the children of Abraham. Um, wonder what he thinks when he looks down upon the mess we’ve made of things and sees our Muslim, Jewish, and every permutation of Christian brothers and sisters spewing hatred and ignorance amongst and between each other. Does Abraham go bat-shit crazy too when he hears his children fight- to the death?

Election time is always an interesting time for me. I love the political stuff and now that I am working in state government in civil service I feel that at last I am finally home. My bias and love for the US of A is unabashed. I love Mexico where I was raised and Cuba from where my parents hail. But our country is like no other and I fear for our future. A good friend from high school, and possibly one of the greatest minds of our generation, posted a Lewis Sinclair quote on Facebook today that reads: “When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.” As a Christian and a patriot (NOT of the Beck & Palin variety) this really frightens me. I pray, hope and volunteer with the Democratic party hoping that cooler heads will prevail.

My fear is also tempered by faith in the community of saints that surrounds us all. I long ago renounced the Catholic faith in which I was raised but am happy to see that the community of saints is everywhere and not exclusive to the Papists. One of my dearest friends is an agnostic, cultural Jew. She has a soul that would make Teresa of Avila green with envy, and her actions are guided by one of the purest hearts I’ve ever loved. Another dear friend is getting ready to bury her mother. She has a brilliant mind, a soulful heart and routinely saves and improves lives with a ten blade. She often “does the right thing” simply because she explains “it is just what you do.” If only it were that easy for the rest of us mere mortals. I hope they both feel love coming their way every moment of every day.

Zion is commonly referred to as Jerusalem, the land of Israel and the Promised Land in the Jewish and Christian traditions. For Muslims it is also a significant holy city. For American slaves, Zion was the utopic home of freedom they so longed for. A more current meaning for Zion is an idyllic, heavenly, or spiritual place where peace of mind reigns despite life’s circumstances.

As I write this tonight, one of our family members has spent the last week helping to care for my mom and dad. If it is true that friends are the family we chose for our selves, then she and her entire family are our closest relatives. Our fathers worked together at the beginning of their careers and now almost 50 years later they are still BFFs. She and I grew up together and I always looked up to her; her company and friendship were formative influences for me. Throughout the years she, her brother and parents have been a constant beacon of light and love for our family. She has spent the last week caring for my mom: rubbing lotion on her feet, changing diapers, running errands for my dad and keeping him company for dinner. Despite our long history together I can’t gather the gumption to call her up and thank her. Because a phone call is just not enough. How can I appropriately thank someone for their love, compassion, sacrifice and dedication to those I hold most dear? I can only say, I love you too, Norma. Thank you for walking this road with us. For being a sister to me, a daughter to my mom and dad and a fellow companion Marching to Zion. We are blessed to count you as an important part of the community of saints that helps to hold us up and I hope you are blessed in return with a peaceful heart. The best thank you I can give you is to put it here, out there, so whoever happens to read these words will know of your greatness too.

Marching to Zion (lyrics)
Come, we that love the Lord,
and let our joys be known;
join in a song with sweet accord,
join in a song with sweet accord
and thus surround the throne,
and thus surround the throne.

We're marching to Zion,
beautiful, beautiful Zion;
we're marching upward to Zion,
the beautiful city of God.

Let those refuse to sing
who never knew our God;
but children of the heavenly King,
but children of the heavenly King
may speak their joys abroad,
may speak their joys abroad.

The hill of Zion yields
a thousand sacred sweets
before we reach the heavenly fields,
before we reach the heavenly fields,
or walk the golden streets,
or walk the golden streets.

Then let our songs abound,
and every tear be dry;
we're marching through Emmanuel's ground,
we're marching through Emmanuel's ground,
to fairer worlds on high,
to fairer worlds on high.

We're marching to Zion,
beautiful, beautiful Zion;
we're marching upward to Zion,
the beautiful city of God. Ⓒ 2012 Patricia Vivó-Aucoin