Prayer for a Friendly World

Our Father, fresh from the world, with the smell of life upon us, we make an act of prayer in the silence of this place. Our minds are troubled because the anxieties of our hearts are deep and searching. We are stifled by the odor of death which envelops our earth, where in so many places brother fights against brother. The panic of fear, the torture of insecurity, the ache of hunger, all have fed and rekindled our ancient hatreds and long forgotten memories of old struggles, when the world was young and Thy children were but dimly aware of Thy Presence in the midst. For all this, we seek forgiveness. There is no one of us without guilt and, before Thee, we confess our sins: we are proud and arrogant; We are selfish and greedy; we have harbored in our hearts and minds much that makes for bitterness, hatred and revenge.

While we wait in Thy Presence, search our spirits and grant to our minds the guidance and the wisdom that will teach us the way to take, without which there can be no peace and no confidence anywhere. Teach us how to put at the disposal of Thy Purposes of Peace the fruits of our industry, the products of our minds, the vast wealth of our land and the resources of our spirit. Grant unto us the courage to follow the illumination of this hour to the end that we shall not lead death to any man's door; but rather may we strengthen the hands of all in high places, and in common tasks seek to build a friendly world, of friendly men, beneath a friendly sky. This is the simple desire of our hearts which we share with Thee in thanksgiving and confidence.

(For the Inward Journey: the writings of Howard Thurman.
Selected by Anne Spencer Thurman. page 297
Originally published in Meditations of the Heart)

On Tuesday evening, I had the great privilege and joy to walk the Labyrinth at the Stony Brook UU Fellowship with Linda Mikell. My intentions were to remember many details of my relationship with Leonel on the way in, to consider those final nights and hours together while standing in the center, and, as I departed the labyrinth, to re-experience the healing that I felt in the hours and days and weeks and months—and now, many years—since his death (in my arms, as it were!).

The walk was glorious. I was reminded of Thurman’s admonition that, if indeed there is a crown for me, that I must learn to grow into its height. And so I felt myself stronger and stronger, increasingly able, both in Leonel’s passion, his passing, and our walk together since.

It was only the next morning that I realized that the night of the ninth of April leading into the tenth of April—today!—was the anniversary of his death. This reminds of my therapist Dr. O’Donnell once remarking that my Forgetory is strong to allow my Memory to be surprised, and often surprised by joy, when I remember. And so each year I seem to forget, until, like yesterday, I remember.

There are so many stories of my too-brief relationship with Leonel. We moved quickly from “young love” to something needing a depth of commitment and connection after we learned of his HIV diagnosis. The roller coaster of the last nine months of his life seemed to last years, as did the period of me making sense of what we had been through, and what I was able to live beyond. So many companions—in seminary, in family, in congregations that I served, in a terrific grieving group—gave so richly from their experience and perspective; and so I grew beyond my grief to be grateful—oh so grateful—for what he gave.

Thus I treasure little rembrance-holders in the glass that he fashioned into lampshades and receptacles, the photos that we took of him walking the high central hills of Costanza and sitting on the seawall at the Faro Colon in Santo Domingo. The SoulCollage card that bears his image sits on the credenza in my study. And his photograph joins that of my parents on my home altar. By these I hope to allow “the illumination of the hour“ to give me—and all of us—the courage and strength to do what must be done. And to grow unto the height our crowns.

Leonel—there will never be another. (But if you could whisper into an ear or two for someone new to give it a try, I will appreciate it.) And yes, there will never be another.