Good Sunday Morning, good people of the universe. The thunder and rain and lightning last night and this morning are not Hurricane Lee which is still south of us. Apparently, this is a storm coming from the West, over the mountains. We'll just call this "John the Baptist Weather," preparing the way for "Lee the Hurricane."

I've been watching the birds at the bird feeder outside our sunroom windows. They are picking through the seed which is soaked with rain. You can almost hear them muttering about how they really prefer their seed dry and not soggy.

But, they still cluster and pick, even if they occasionally complain and mutter. They seem to be there more for the company than the seed.

Or, perhaps that's my projection.

I've been reading a lot, here and there, about "The Epidemic of Loneliness" that is affecting this country as well as many so-called civilized countries around the world.

Of course, social media is being blamed for everything. Of course. It is ironic that in an age when communication - personal, national, international, global - is the fastest it's ever been in history that there should be an epidemic of loneliness.

One fact struck me hard: A lie can circulate three times around the globe before the truth can be told.

Just let that sink in for a red-hot internet second in real-time.

I know that it is not unusual for people to mark the days of their lives by a catastrophe.

"Well, the town hasn't been the same since Hurricane Rita."

"We used to have lots of lovely novelty shops downtown, and cafes and boutique shops but all of that changed after the Recession." (Or, the factory left. Or, the mine closed. Or, the economy tanked. Or . . . . .)

I don't think this country has been the same since 9/11. I'm keenly aware of that anniversary tomorrow. Something besides buildings was destroyed. Naivete or a sort of innocence about This American Life. Trust, I think, went with it.

And, once again, I really don't want to talk about it.

And, maybe I should.

I'm remembering just now one trip, years ago, to Ghana. We were in a village way up in the north, in Tamale, as I recall. We visited a village of women who were celebrating and wanting to share with us their joy because a church in Great Britain had sent them the money to be able to put a pump into their well.

Now, they said, we no longer have to pull up water. Now, look! See? We can just pull down on this pump and - Oh joy, we've seen it a hundred times now and we can still hardly believe it - Look! The water flows so easily into our containers!

Never mind that those were 20 and 30-gallon containers which they then lifted up and put on their heads to carry bac on the 1 mile walk back to the village.

One of the women leaned into me and asked, "Do you have such a marvel in your village?"

"No," I said, trying to contain the quiet laugh that gave rise spontaneously at the thought. "No, you see, we have faucets and sinks that bring the water directly into our homes."

She gasped at the wonder of such a thing. "Yes," I said, "and that water can be hot or cold. We have separate faucets for each."

She shook her head in amazement. "You mean, the water is right there, in your home? You do not have to carry it or bring it back to your village?"

"Yes," I said, "that's exactly what I mean."

And then, a sudden sadness overtook her face. She looked at me with great pity and sorrow. "What is it?" I asked. She put her hand gently on my arm as if to express her sadness and sympathy for me.

"Oh," she said, "if the women do not go to the village well to get your water, how do you tell your stories?"

Ah yes. One of the great ironies of our time. The rich American woman was so poor all she had was money.

The great irony of our time is that technology has made it possible that we've never been better able to talk with each other. Unfortunately, I think we talk TO each other - indeed, many times, we talk AT each other - and not WITH each other.

I don't know if we are really able to have conversations of any substance via email or on social media or X (formerly known as Twitter). There's something about incarnational conversation that is powerful because, I think, we're more apt to share our stories and when we share our stories, something transformational happens.

In this morning's Gospel, we hear Jesus give instructions to his disciples about how they are to handle conflict in community, after which he reminds them, "...whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."

There are consequences. There are always consequences. Side effects. Collateral Damage.

See also: Epidemic of Loneliness.

I don't know what would be a "metaphorical village well" where we can go and tell our stories. Maybe that's the church? It could be, again, if the institutional church were to realize how much trust has been eroded and work to restore that again.

Well, anyway, that's where I'm headed. To church. I'm delighted to be with the people of St. Philip's, Laurel, DE this morning. I am going to talk to them a bit about this Epidemic of Loneliness and introduce an idea that started in England.

It's called a "chatty bench" which are placed around towns to encourage spontaneous conversations. The church has just created a lovely "Prayer Cove" over at Old Christ Church, the pre-revolutionary war church on the other side of town where folks can go and be alone and in prayer.

I'm wondering if they might consider Newton's Third Law of Dynamics: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. What if, I wonder, the church put up a "chatty bench" outside the church or the library or the town hall as a place to encourage spontaneous conversations.

Just a little something with the name and phone number of the church and, perhaps, this: "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Maybe, if we created places where people could share their stories, well, who knows what might happen?

Off I go, then, to wonder and ponder and pray and, perhaps, share a story or two, call that a sermon, and hope for the best.

Make it a great day everyone.

Bom dia.