07/03/2026
On June 26th in his Daily Meditations Father Richard Rohr describes the constant movement of God toward us throughout human history. He writes,
“The Bible shows a relentless movement toward intimacy and divine union between Creator and creatures. For this to happen, there needs to be some degree of compatibility, likeness, or even ‘sameness’ between the two parties. In other words, there has to be a little bit of God in us that wants to find itself.”
I find these words deeply meaningful and highly relevant for our journey together as people. When Rohr writes “a little bit of God in us” wants to “find itself,” that not only involves that little bit of God in us that’s searching for the fullness of God within us but also our search for the bit of God that resides in those around us.
I believe several of us experienced that moment of discovery recently as we took part in the ceremony to transfer the Covenant Hills camp property in Vermont over to the Nulhegan Band of the Coosuk Abenaki Nation on June 27.
We gathered as United Methodists, members of the United Church of Christ, and Abenaki people to officially deconsecrate Covenant Hills and transfer this property into hands and stewardship of the Abenaki.
The emotions were undeniable. On one hand, there was loss; this camp is a storehouse of memories – children, youth, and adults who came to a deeper understanding of life and faith because of the programs offered. On the other, there was a deep sense of gratitude as an indigenous people were experiencing the opportunity to reconnect their past with the present and a future filled with possibility.
We are different people with different histories, different rituals, different pains, different hopes and aspirations. But as we sat together at the lakeside chapel, we began to experience the part of the Creator/God that resides in all of us and that longs for us to recognize that the fullness of life can only be found when we unite our lives, even if only for a few moments during a liturgy of de-consecration and transfer of property.
We sang hymns together. We were taught Abenaki songs. We said, “thank you,” and we said “wliwni.” We prayed a prayer of blessing, and we blessed the land with the traditional ritual of spreading to***co. We talked of God’s grace and we talked of the Creator’s goodness. We invoked the presence of the “Holy Spirit” and we acknowledged the presence of “many spirits” that unite us and bind us to the land.
And during the course of that 90-minute service, we discovered that we had more in common, much more in common, than some had realized. Different languages but a common moment of “Pentecost” when those languages were heard and understood by all. Different rituals but a common core of belief: We are in the hands of the One who created us and gives us life.
In one deeply meaningful moment, Abenaki Chief Don Stevens spoke of not only his people’s gratitude in receiving this gift but also of their pledge to pick up the mantle and care for this land moving forward. He connected the history of Covenant Hills with the future hopes of the Abenaki people by pledging that they will always honor the stories of lives changed and impacted on this land.
Their plan is to use this site as a place to teach Abenaki language and culture to an emerging generation. His words were genuine, sincere, and connecting.
This was and is the source of healing – the ability to realize that although things change, there are covenants and commonalities that remain. We are one family, in need of forgiveness and reconciliation but also in need of the Spirit’s help to bind us together in deeper appreciation and love.
As I left Covenant Hills, I found myself deeply grateful for being in the presence of the Holy, a presence that reminded me that sanctification, “complete love,” is not possible unless it is altogether inclusive.
And it is why my heart constantly breaks when this completeness is shattered by the feeble and misguided actions of those who judge, dictate, and legislate separation.
While we were finding ways to unite cultures at Covenant Hills, the U.S. Supreme Court ended humanitarian protections that have permitted persons to flee dangerous conditions in their homelands to live and work legally in the United States. Suddenly, a wedge has been created that specifically impacts people from Haiti and Syria. This act is dehumanizing and has immediately caused anxiety, fear and anger that disconnects rather than unites.
What does this mean? It means that for every success there is a subsequent setback. It means that the work of justice never ends. It means that the search for that little bit of God and the goodness of our Creator is sometimes easy, but oftentimes so very hard. It means that our work never ends.
Father Rohr writes:
“God does not love you because you are good; God loves you because God is good, and then you CAN be good because you draw upon such an Infinite Source of Goodness. The older I get, the more I am sure that God does all the giving and we do all the receiving. God is always and forever the initiator in my life, and I am, on occasion, the half-hearted respondent. My mustard seed of a response seems to be more than enough for a humble God, even though the mustard seed is ‘the tiniest of all the seeds.’” (Matthew 13:32)
I give God thanks for “mustard seed moments,” like the service at Covenant Hills, where we showed up to discover that our Creator God was already there. And I pray that we might continue to show up in all the places where injustice dominates to demonstrate that even the tiniest of all of the seeds might bear much fruit for that which is good, and right, and holy.
It is time for that little bit of God in us to find itself.
May it be so. Amen. Ni Alach. Let it be so.
Bishop Thomas J. Bickerton
Resident Bishop
New Hope Episcopal Area (New England and New York Annual Conferences)
