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Thursday April 15, 2021 

In January 1993, Joan and I took our winter holiday in Montserrat, one of the less-visited islands of the Caribbean. It was so less-visited, it only had three hotels.

            Four years later, the island’s volcano blew up. It buried the capital city in ash. To the rooftops. 

            We had stood on the edge of that volcano, watching steaming hot water bubbling out of orangey shale. 

            Then in January 2008, we went to St. Vincent, at the other end of the Caribbean chain of islands. Five of us hiked up to the rim of St. Vincent’s volcano, past ferns growing 30-feet tall. 

            We peered down into swirling mists in the crater. I’d love to have gone down, but the rock walls were too sheer for anything but trained climbers with ropes and pitons. 

            Last week, the volcano on St. Vincent blew up. A pillar of smoke and ash soared 33,000 feet into the sky. TV showed skies as black as asphalt paving, ash ankle-deep in the streets of the main city at the other end of the island. 

Two out of two

            You might say that’s just coincidence. There can’t possibly be any connection between my visits and the eruptions that followed. 

            But two out of two ain’t a bad batting average for coincidences. 

            Before you worry about my mental health, no, I don’t feel responsible. Because I have also visited at least half a dozen other volcanos. In the Caribbean: on St. Kitts, Nevis, and St. Lucia. In Costa Rica and Equador. Even here in Canada, near Terrace in northern B.C. 

            None of them have erupted since my visits. 

            Still, I contend that coincidences are not pure chance. 

            Part of the allure of the Caribbean islands is that they form one of the most tectonically active arcs on earth. The chain of islands has 17 active volcanos. If you go to the Caribbean, you go to volcano territory. 

            You may recall having read about Mont Pelée in Martinique. In 1902, a wall of particles superheated to incandescence incinerated the entire population of the town of St. Pierre – except for one man cowering within the thick stone walls of his prison cell. 

Looking for a connection

            Some people consider coincidences to be evidence of divine planning – these two distinct events were meant to happen together. 

            I see coincidence as depending on the observer, seeking a connection. I am the connection between the two volcanos. Without me, there’s no coincidence.

            In a different context, I remember my congregation asking me to serve as board chair. I felt I should accept. But I didn’t want to. I struggled with the decision.

            Then one evening, I overheard part of a conversation. “The great thing about this congregation,” a member told a visitor, “is that you can say no, and they won’t hold it against you.”

            Standing where I could hear that conversation was pure chance. Any other time, I would have paid no attention; her comment would have gone by, unnoticed. But it was exactly what I needed to hear. 

            There are dozens, hundreds, of coincidences every day. But we only notice them when we can make a connection.

            Coincidences don’t depend on some outside force setting them up for us. They depend on us looking for a connection.

            And what’s the significance of a coincidence? That too depends on us. 

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Copyright © 2021 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

            To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

Most of the comments on last week’s column, about going up a mountain to sing to the Easter sunrise, were short.

Cliff Boldt: “A wonderful experience, meaningful for sure. Alone with God.”

Jim Henderschedt: “That, my dear friend, is what I call a genuine Easter dawn proclamation. Christ is risen! Our Lord is risen indeed!”

Karen Opit: “I love how you compared your climb and the women's climb.”

Sharon Adams: “Thanks for sharing.”

Isabel Gibson: “Did any other people see or hear you? That would have been a nice Easter surprise.”

John Shaffer c0mmented, “You can be glad I wasn't there to ruin your singing. 

            “My best Easter experience was our first Easter sunrise in a new sanctuary just north of Anchorage, Alaska. We scheduled it to match the time of sunrise, but we forgot to calculate in the height of the Chugach Mountains between us and the sun. One member (Stan Nickerson) decided to wait with me until the sun came over the mountain. We waited a long time, but it was worth the wait to see the rays finally catch up with the height of the mountain. An Easter sunrise to remember. But I was not alone. There were two of us. And we didn't sing!”

My almost-brother Ralph Milton waxed eloquent: “A beautiful column, and one that reveals a depth of spirituality I hadn't seen in you before. The person that lurks beneath the persona we all love and admire is a profoundly introspective holy man who senses a reality that is much deeper than he can possibly articulate. “

Kim MacMillan: “It has been years since our congregation had an Easter sunrise service, but it’s interesting that this year I, too, have been thinking about resurrecting the practice (pun not initially intended). I have felt a greater longing this year for more ritual observation of the passion story. 

            “I have also felt more keenly this year the emotions of the events of Holy Week. I watched with Susan a Zoom presentation of the Stations of the Cross created by members of the Social Justice Committee of her local RC church. It was very powerful and helped to fill the need. I also lucked upon a time limited, free, YouTube broadcast of the filmed stage version of Jesus Christ Superstar, released a couple of years ago. It was extremely well done and provided nuances to the story that I had not experienced before. I think it’s still available on a pay-per-view basis.”

The weather was fine, if cloudy, for my Easter sunrise venture. Not so for Jan and David Edwards: “It is a long time since I took part in an Easter service at sunrise, and my memory is that it would have been a better experience if it weren't so cloudy and cold. Maybe I've forgotten the good ones! Our on-line service today included the hymn ‘Every morning is Easter morning from now on!’ and I would have been singing that if I had got up early enough, on this cold, snowy morning.” 

Jane Wallbrown remembered other services: “On Cape Cod we went to the beach to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. In VT we climbed a mountain behind a congregant's farm to catch the first rays of sun. I loved sunrise services. All my life. It was a goose-bumpy moment for me. Loved that you sang at the top of your voice!”

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Psalm paraphrase

Psalm 4 comes up once every three years. As I read what are supposed to be David’s words, I find myself thinking about the difference between a hotel room, and a guest bedroom in a friend’s home. 

1          In the middle of the night, I wake. 
This room is strange; I can't find the light; I can't find the door. 
The hall is long and dark. 

2          I am afraid.

4          But this is your house, God. 
I was a stranger, and you took me in. 
I was alone, and you made me welcome. 

4          In your house, I have nothing to fear. 
I can sink back into my bed and set my mind at rest. 

5          I put myself in your hands. I trust you. 

6          Am I crazy? Am I a fool? 
Some would say so. They doubt you. 

7          But I know the peace I felt when you opened your door 
and the warmth when you invited me to share your table.

8          I can let my eyes close; 
in your home, I am at home. 

You can find paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary in my book Everyday Psalms available from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

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            And for those of you who like poetry, please check my webpage .https://quixotic.ca/My-Poetry I posted several new poetic works there a few weeks ago. If you’d like to receive notifications about new poems, write me at jimt@quixotic.ca, or subscribe yourself to the list by sending a blank email (no message) to poetry-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca (If it doesn’t work, please let me know.)

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. Some spam filters have blocked my posts because they’re suspicious of some of the web links.

            Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca He’s also relatively inexpensive!

            I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also has lots of beautiful photos. Especially of birds.

            Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)

ALVA WOOD’S ARCHIVE

            I have acquired (don’t ask how) the complete archive of the late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures. I’ve put them on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. You’re welcome to browse. No charge. (Although maybe if I charged a fee, more people would find the archive worth visiting.)