Words from La Padre

Can Doubt Be a Prayer?

6/22/2015

by Deborah Globus

And death is at your doorstep
And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance

But you are not alone in this
And you are not alone in this

- Mumford & Son

Note: this is a repost of a piece I wrote in January of 2013. Of late, death is once again on the doorstep of too many people that I love. And the question still remains, what do you do with grief?

Last Thursday was the 24th anniversary of my friend's mother's death. Next year he'll be as old as she was when she died.

Another friend has lost so many of her beloveds this year that I've lost count. That doesn't include the funerals that I've gone to in the last two months or the ones I haven't, like the ones in Newtown, CT.

And I live on Long Island where evidence of storm damage sneaks up on you around every turn: a fallen tree here, an exposed root ball there and I'm suddenly reminded of all that my extended "neighbors" have been through since the October.

In the face of all this grief it's hard to believe that I can make a difference. Mine is just one small voice shouting out into the void, or so it feels.

Too many of us struggle with not feeling like we're enough. Especially when the griefs before us are so expansive, and felt so strongly by so very many. It can feel too big; and we feel too small. Thankfully, there are rituals that can support us, if we seek them out.

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2014 Remembrance of 9/11

9/11/2014

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by Deborah Globus

It’s the morning of 9/11, 2014. The TVs in my house are all set to the 9/11 Memorial taking place less than 50 miles from my house. Soon there will be the moment of silence and a memory of my husband calling to tell me to turn on the news to watch.

And then there will be the names.

The name of each person lost will be read and I’ll listen. I’ll cry. I’ll feel raw for the rest of the day.

Many wonder why I do this each and every year. Maybe it’s because I’m a New Yorker and these were my people. Maybe it’s because, as a “minister,” I feel as though it is my duty to bare witness to those that grieve.

Or maybe it’s because I’m alive.

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Remembering. Again.

9/11/2013

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by Deborah Globus

Each year on this day the news programs cover the 9/11 memorials. They read the names. I watch. I cry. I remember.

So very much has happened – in the country, here in my State, in my own life.

The Memorial acts as a touchstone for me now, a chance to note how much has changed and remember those whose lives stopped that day.

May those in pain find comfort and healing.

May everyone whose heart is still pierced by the painful events of that day find heart’s ease.

So mote it be. As we say together – Amen, amen.

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Ten Modern Plagues

3/25/2013

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by Deborah Globus

At Kehillath Shalom Synagogue we held a Women’s Seder – the story of Exodus as told through the stories of the women so integral to the escape from slavery, and with an emphasis on women’s issues. We wanted to make it relavant and modern and so we added this: Ten Modern Plagues. Each reader stood as she read the name(s) she was given and remained standing. We went from a room of women sitting to being surrounded by the voices of women’s pain and suffering.

Malala

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A Greater Threshold

3/5/2013

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by Deborah Globus

I woke this morning to find him standing on the threshold.

Literally.

He was crouched between the dining room and kitchen, breathing, heavy. It was almost as if he realized he stands on an even greater threshold.

His heart is broken.

Literally.

The murmur has grown steadily worse and now, at only two and a half he is dying.

Dolce, the kitten who never quite lived up to his name. The cat we chased after calling “let me LOVE you!!”

But he became part of the family, an active member of our clan which extends from turtle and lizard, to dog and cats. And now he’s leaving us, breaking our hearts as he goes.

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Finding the Good in the Difficult

8/1/2011

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by Deborah Globus

“My father was the best sea monster in the world.”

That was the first line of the eulogy that I spoke at my father’s memorial service 3 years ago. And it’s true; he really was the best sea monster in the world.

He loved the beach. Sometimes he’s tell about how his mother would skrimp and save to be able to get a little bungalow on the shore for the summer. He could hold his breath longer than anyone else in the family.

When he took us to the beach he’s put us on his back in the water and blow awesome bubbles. He’d gurgle and growl as he’d pull us through the water.

When it came time to write his memorial service I was faced with a difficulty.

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Remembering Authentically

7/29/2011

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by Deborah Globus

Today marks the three year anniversary of my father’s death.

It’s a tough thing to do – commemorate my father’s death in an authentic way. My father was an atheist by nature. His only possible belief in God had us all as a great social experiment being conducted by aliens. He thought the aliens probably disapproved of how the experiment was going. I also suspect that he felt the aliens shared his dark sense of humor, and were probably laughing their asses off at us.

That was my dad.

They say prayer is for the prayer.

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Author

My name is Deborah Globus and I am La Padre. With me you'll find the support you need to uncover practical, do-able spiritual practices that work for you. I offer new perspectives on old practices like journaling and ritual, with a side of compassion and a healthy dose of humor, just to keep it down-to-earth and real!

Can Doubt Be a Prayer?

2014 Remembrance of 9/11

Remembering. Again.

Ten Modern Plagues

A Greater Threshold

Finding the Good in the Difficult

Remembering Authentically

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