Sunday is a beautiful cold day.
People are quiet inside. Waiting for redemption.
I decided to go to church. There was good discussion on the environment drawn from a book called Beyond Eden.
“Do we really have stardust in us?” I ask.
“In Alabama we do,” Arthur said. “They even wrote a song about it.
“Stars Fell On Alabama”
Arthur is funny.
I can’t forget the glamor
Your eyes held a tender light
And stars fractured ‘Bama
Last night
I was at First Presbyterian Church Birmingham, one of the oldest, if not the oldest church in the city. The church, started in the 1870s, fractured over Civil Rights or related issues in the 1960s.
It’s right across the street from the YMCA.
With snow on the ground outside, we sang ‘In the Bleak Midwinter.’
My wife, the Rev. Catherine Oliver, is interim associate pastor at First Presbyterian.
The Rev. Catherine Goodrich is head of staff.
Goodrich led a thanksgiving prayer and said this to the congregation:
We give you thanks for this community and pray this morning for our state.
The eyes of the nation are focused on Alabama waiting to see if we believe that all people are created in the image of God,
if we believe in the separation of church and state,
If we stand on the side of love and if we believe that the poor and the vulnerable should be protected.
Send your Spirit, Oh God, that all may heed the voice of justice, hear your call to compassion and embrace paths of peace.
And a long time ago, in 1833, stars fell on Alabama. Someone wrote about it in 1934:
We lived our little drama
We kissed in a field of white
And stars fell on Alabama
Last night
Counting down my 678 vinyl records before I die of brain disease.