Reflection #107 (15th June 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)
Who knew that there were so many poems about strawberries? We’ve enjoyed several already in our service today (‘The Strawberry Poem’ by Keaton St. James, ‘Strawberries’ by Tamara Madison, and ‘What is Given’ by Ralph Murre). I only want to offer a very short reflection of my own to go along with them. And, as I said at the very top of the service, I want to acknowledge that it might seem a strange decision on my part to swerve at the last minute to this apparently whimsical theme, given the state of the world and all its terrors. I had been planning to talk about theological matters, but I didn’t have the heart for it, and then I chanced across the poem ‘Ye Tang Che’ by James Crews. Its closing lines seemed so perfect:
You can / reach out, pick the strawberry /
growing in front of you / and place it in your mouth, /
enjoying every bite / without sugar or cream, /
even while the tigers / keep nipping at your heels.
Doesn’t it feel as if the tigers are, increasingly, nipping at our heels? Even if we’re not living in Gaza, Tehran, Ukraine, Sudan or any other spot on this earth that is blighted by war. Even if we’re not (yet) living in a state like Trump’s America. I’m not going to stand here and list all the horrors that we all know about. We are all too aware, most of us, of so many unfolding global catastrophes – and it is an important part of what we do here, to bear witness – and to lament all the evil and injustice that’s happening in the world – we’re not going to stop doing that. And, in whatever small ways we can, we have to do something to help put things right. That’s something we talk about most weeks, we encourage each other in our personal commitments for justice, and we strive to be a counter-cultural community of resistance, in our modest way, by embodying a different way of being in the world, that’s centred on love, justice, and peace.
But at least once a year I think we need to pause and remember that even in the worst conditions we can still connect with pleasure, and beauty, and joy. As we read the news headlines we might feel we are caught between two thousand tigers – not just two – but it is important not to get drawn so deeply into despair that we fail to see the metaphorical strawberries that are still within reach. Perhaps it’s in these extreme circumstances that we need them the most. I appreciate these words by M.J. Ryan which I included in Friday’s email: ‘It is precisely because life is unpredictable that we have the duty of delight, a responsibility to relish, cherish, and value the gifts we have been given so that when they are taken away — through death or other changes that life’s impermanence brings our way — we will not have to also bear the pain of having failed to appreciate what we had.’
Some of you may be familiar with the work of adrienne maree brown, perhaps her most famous work to date is a book titled ‘Pleasure Activism’, and she’s one of a number of voices in recent years – I’m also thinking of Tricia Hersey who wrote ‘Rest is Resistance’ which we read in the Better World Book Club last summer – voices reminding us of the risk of burning out, if we take the woes of the whole world on our shoulders, and act as if we are not allowed to rest until everything is put right. There’s an important message to take note of – about this balancing act which I also alluded to last week in our service on ‘Faith’ – we need to remain engaged with both the troubles and the delights of this simultaneously terrible and beautiful world – it doesn’t help anyone if we close ourselves off to either dimension – and taking pleasure in strawberries (or whatever else it might be that we choose to take pleasure in) can recharge us so we’re ready to return to the work of saving the world. Yes, we’ve got work to do. But we can’t do it (or worry about it) 24/7. We need to take a holistic view.
I want to share some words on this from adrienne maree brown. She writes: ‘Pleasure reminds us to enjoy being alive and on purpose… True pleasure—joy, happiness and satisfaction—has been the force that helps us move beyond the constant struggle, that helps us live and generate futures beyond this dystopic present, futures worthy of our miraculous lives. Pleasure—embodied, connected pleasure—is one of the ways we know when we are free. That we are always free. That we always have the power to co-create the world. Pleasure helps us move through the times that are unfair, through grief and loneliness, through the terror of genocide, or days when the demands are just overwhelming. Pleasure heals the places where our hearts and spirit get wounded. Pleasure reminds us that even in the dark, we are alive. Pleasure is a medicine for the suffering that is absolutely promised in life… Feeling good is not frivolous, it is freedom.’
So that’s the very simple takeaway message I have for you today. Despite everything that’s going on in the world, we can – we must – take our pleasures where we can. We are still here, and there are still things to be glad about, so let’s make time for joy and take in the good. Savour the strawberries.
I want to close with one last strawberry poem. I feel like this one was a bit of a gift from God – when I woke up on Saturday morning it was in my email box – the poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer writes a new poem every day and this was her freshly minted offering yesterday. It couldn’t be more in tune with what I wanted to say. ‘Please’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
If you are one who has practice
meeting the pain of the world,
we need you. Right now we need you
to teach us it is possible to swallow
what is weighty and still be able to rise.
We need you to remind us we can
be furious and scared and near feral
over injustice and still thrill at the taste
of a strawberry, ripe and sweet,
can still meet a stranger and shake
their hand, believing in their humanness.
We need you to show us how
we, too, can fall into the darkest,
unplumbed pit and learn there
a courage and beauty
we could never learn from the light.
If you have drowned in sorrow
and still have somehow found
a way to breathe, please, lead us.
You are the one with the crumbs
we need, the ones we will use to find
our way back to the home of our hearts.
Amen.
Reflection by Jane Blackall