Remember for 1/2 the world, this starts the summer season.
Merry Christmas.
Blessed Be,
Joel
"God laughed and brought forth Jesus. Jesus laughed and brought forth the Holy Spirit. All three laughed and brought forth us." ~ Meister Eckhart
Tonight we celebrate the birth of the Christ Child - how God becomes vulnerable to us as an infant, a babe, needing our tender care and nurture and comfort. Tonight as we read Luke's account, we have interspersed readings and carols and choral anthems - sharing some of the ways that this event has inspired others. Tonight as we read and sing these words of inspiration, may our hearts be inspired to look for the Christ in one another and the world at large. May we leave with a new sense of what is important in the world, a new sense at how God is at work, calling us forth to join in with our own hands.Lighting the 4th Advent Candle ~ Tonight, Everyone is Displaced ~ Rev. Tom Schade
Tonight, everyone is displaced and homeless.Carol - Joy to the World
Tonight, everyone searches for Bethlehem.
On this night, when the darkness comes so close,
We listen, in the stillness, for the songs of angels.
Like shepherds, we aren't too sure of what is happening.
We don't know why we are so expectant.
We don't know why we long so deeply for miracles.
Tonight we pray that we might know the one we are seeking.
Tonight may we kneel like kings,
before that which is greater than any kingdom on earth.
Tonight, may we see the holy family that we are a part of.
And may we hear the music that reminds us of our truest home.
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! the Lord is with you." But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called the Son of God. ..." Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.~ This Is No Time for a Child to be Born ~ Madeleine L'Engle
This is no time for a child to be born,
With the Earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.
That was no time for a child to be born
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome
Honor and truth were trampled by scorn --
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.
When is the time of love to be born?Choir - The Angels
The inn is full on planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn ---
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.~ The Maid-Servant At The Inn ~ Dorothy Parker
"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright -
We've not had stars like that again!
"And she was such a gentle thing
To birth a baby in the cold.
The barn was dark and frightening -
This new one's better than the old.
"I mind my eyes were full of tears,
For I was young, quick distressed,
But she was less than me in years
That held a son against her breast.
"I never saw a sweeter child -
The little one, the darling one! -
I mind, I told her, when he smiled
You'd know he was his mother's son.
"It's queer that I should see them so -~ A Christmas Reflection ~ Thomas Merton
The time they came to Bethlehem
Was more than thirty years ago;
I've prayed that all is well with them."
Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because he cannot be at home in it, because he is out of place in it, and yet he must be in it, his place is with those others for whom there is no room. His place is with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons, tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world.Choir - Behold That Star
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."~ Mother of God ~ William Butler Yeats
The threefold terror of love; a fallen flare
Through the hollow of an ear;
Wings beating about the room;
The terror of all terror that I bore
The Heavens in my womb.
Had I not found content among the shows
Every common woman knows,
Chimney corner, garden walk,
Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes
And gather all the talk?
What is this flesh I purchased with my pains,Duet - Ave Maria
This fallen star my milk sustains,
This love that makes my heart's blood stop
Or strikes a Sudden chill into my bones
And bids my hair stand up?
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,~ Snow in Bethlehem ~ Maya Angelou
"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favors!"
Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.
Flood waters await us in our avenues.
Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.
We question ourselves.
What have we done to so affront nature?
We worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?
Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.
It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.
Flood waters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.
Hope is born again in the faces of children
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.
In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.Choir - Carol for Advent
At first it is too soft. They only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is louder now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.
We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,
implore you to stay awhile with us
so we may learn by your shimmering light
how to look beyond complexion and see community.
It is Christmas time, a halting time of hate time.
On this platform of peace, we can create a language
to translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices to celebrate the promise of
Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers,
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace.
We look at each other, then into ourselves,
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My brother.
Peace, My sister.
Peace, My soul.
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.~ The Moment of Magic ~ Victoria E. Safford
Now is the moment of magic,Choir/Congregation - Hames um Bole / Silent Night
when the whole, round earth turns again toward the sun,
and here's a blessing:
the days will be longer and brighter now,
even before the winter settles in to chill us.
Now is the moment of magic,
when people beaten down and broken,
with nothing left but misery and candles and their own clear voices,
kindle tiny lights and whisper secret music,
and here's a blessing:
the dark universe is suddenly illuminated by the lights of the menorah,
suddenly ablaze with the lights of the kinara,
and the whole world is glad and loud with winter singing.
Now is the moment of magic,
when an eastern star beckons the ignorant toward an unknown goal,
and here's a blessing:
they find nothing in the end but an ordinary baby,
born at midnight, born in poverty, and the baby's cry, like bells ringing,
makes people wonder as they wander through their lives,
what human love might really look like,
sound like,
feel like.
Now is the moment of magic,
and here's a blessing:
we already possess all the gifts we need;
we've already received our presents:
ears to hear music,
eyes to behold lights,
hands to build true peace on earth
and to hold each other tight in love.
When the songs of angels is stilled,Benediction ~ Night Has Fallen ~ Rev. Tom Schade
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the brothers and sisters,
to make music in the heart.
Night has fallen.Choir - Alleluia Chaconne
Stars beckon in an indigo and velvet sky
Somewhere a baby is being born.
Tonight, the world lazes in a love of goodness
while glories stream from heaven afar
God is meeting us, tonight, where we are.
So be not afraid, and be of good cheer,
We wish you, each and all, Very Merry Christmas -
The hopes and fears of all the years have been met,
so Rest beside the winding road
and Hear the Angels Sing.
Leave her, JohnnyOh the times was hard and the wages low
Leave her, Johnny, leave her
And the grub was bad and the gales did blow
And it's time for us to leave herLeave her, Johnny, leave her
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her
For the voyage is done and the winds do blow
And it's time for us to leave herI thought I heard the Old Man say
You can go ashore and take your payOh her stern was foul and the voyage was long
The winds was bad and the gales was strongAnd we'll leave her tight and we'll leave her trim
And heave the hungry packet inOh, leave her, Johnny, leave her with a grin
For there's many a worser we've sailed in
And now it's time to say goodbye
For the old pierhead's a-drawing nigh
(lyrics posted at Shanties and Sea Songs)
Micah 5:2-5a; Luke 1:46b-55 or Psalm 80:1-7; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45, (46-55)Here's a little apocalyptic weather humor for you (ala Facebook, of course):
"God's mercy is for those who fear God from generation to generation.Mary proclaims a world turned on her head. Our expectations for what success means, for who has the power, for the way things really work on a cosmic level are turned up side down. And is that not apocalyptic in it's own right?
God has shown strength with God's arm, God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.
God has helped God's servant Israel, in remembrance of God's mercy,
according to the promise God made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever." (Luke 1:50-55)
The Vermont Sail Freight Project originated out of our farm’s commitment to resilient food systems. Producing food sustainably is not enough. The other half is sustainable transport of goods to market and equitable exchange. A good portion of the damage conventional agriculture does to society and the environment is through our overblown, corporation-dominated distribution systems. The idea of a small, producer-owned craft sailing goods to market, perhaps even a distant market, is an alternative to this system, and one which has served our region well in the past.They are currently still in process, but have linked up with the Willowell Foundation.
Cheap seems to be a theme, with you — how do you finance your lifestyle?
At present, the general theme is to invest the money we don’t earn in free time. Thousands of dollars not earned equals hundreds of hours free to do whatever we please.On the demand side, we try to keep our overheads low. Enginelessness, wood fuel, bulk food buys and wild foods, minimal rent (occasionally at the dock in towns), dryout (vs. haulout), inherent exercise and "social distancing" (we’re seldom ill) all help. But, dost think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no cakes and ale (or wine, chocolate, DVD rental, pizza, etc.)? We travel once every three or four years to Europe (visiting Anke’s family and friends), which swallows a year’s budget with ease. Altogether, we’ve been averaging about $6,000 per year over twenty years (includes intermittent boat building). We keep thinking that’ll drop when the "last boat" is built and equipped.Supply side, we are fortunate to have the AK Permanent Fund Dividend, which puts a variable, but always hefty wad into our pocket ($1000 to $1700 per person per year, depending on market conditions). The rest we make up with occasional odd-jobs (and/or a major one every ten years or so).I’m working on designing boats for sale (www.triloboats.com) and writing a novel, along with several other hopeful generators of micro-streams of income. Our goals are to afford catastrophic health insurance and move toward establishing a cash/cache/capital financial basis.
Strike the Bell - a pumping shantyAft on the poopdeck
Walking about
There is the second mate
So sturdy and so stout
What he is thinking of
He only knows himself
Oh, we wish that he would hurry up
And strike, strike the bell
Strike the bell, second mate
Let us go below
Look away to windward
You can see it's going to blow
Look at the glass
You can see that it is fell
We wish the you would hurry up
And strike, strike the bell
Down on the maindeck
Working at the pumps
There is the larboard watch
Ready for their bunks
Over to windward
They see a great swell
They're wishing that the second mate
Would strike, strike the bell
Aft at the wheel
Poor Anderson stands
Grasping the spokes
In his cold, mittened hands
Looking at the compass
The coarse is clear as hell
He's wishing that the second mate
Would strike, strike the bell
For'ad in the fo'c'sle head
Keeping sharp lookout
There is Johnny standing
Ready for to shout
"Lights' burning bright, sir
And everything is well"
He's wishing that the second mate
Would strike, strike the bell
Aft the quarterdeck
The gallant captain stands
Looking to windward
With his glasses in his hand
What he is thinking of
We know very well
He's thinking more of shortening sail
Than strike, strike the bell
Imagine you are at a potluck buffet and see that you are the first in line. How do you know how much to take? Imagine that this potluck spread includes not just food and water, but also the materials needed for shelter, clothing, healthcare and education. It all looks and smells so good and you are hungry. What will you heap on your plate? How much is enough to leave for your neighbors behind you in the line? Now extend this cornucopia to today's global economy, where the necessities for life come from around the world. Six billion people,** shoulder to shoulder, for a line that circles around the globe to Cairo, onto Hawaii over ocean bridges, then back, and around the globe again, 180 times more. With plates in hand, they too wait in line, hearty appetites in place. And along with them are giraffes and klipspringers, manatees and spiders, untold millions of species, millions of billions of unique beings, all with the same lusty appetites. And behind them, the soon-to-be-born children, cubs, and larvae.What level of equity feels right? What level of inequity has us crying "Foul!"?
A harmonious feast just might be possible. But it requires a bit of restraint, or shall we say, a tamed appetite, as our plate becomes a shopping cart, becomes a pickup truck - filling our house, attic, basement, garage, and maybe even a rented storage unit with nature transformed into things. As we sit down for a good hearty meal with new friends and creatures from around the world, what is the level of equity that we would feel great about? At what level of inequity would be say, "Wait a minute, that's not fair"?***
Whup Jamboree - trad cotton screwing shantyWhup Jamboree, whup jamboree
Oh a long-tailed sailor man comin' up behind
Whup Jamboree, whup jamboree
Come an' get your oats me sonThe pilot he looked out ahead
The hands on the cane and the heavin' of the lead
And the old man roared to wake the dead
Come and get your oats me son
Oh, now we see the lizzard light
Soon, me boys, we'll heave in sight
We'll soon be abreast of the Isle of Wight
Come and get your oats me son
Now when we get to the black wall dock
Those pretty young girls come out in flocks
With short-legged drawers and long-tailed frocks
Come and get your oats me son
Well, then we'll walk down limelight way
And all the girls will spend our pay
We'll not see more 'til another day
Come and get your oats me son
Baruch 5:1-9 or Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 1:68-79 (in place of the Psalm); Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6Reflections:
H.W. (Bill) Tilman |
Moitessier during the Long Way |
Capi Blanchet |
National Museum of Medieval History, Korca Albania |
Oh, we're homeward bound to Liverpool town,
Goodbye fare the well, goodbye fare the well,
Well them Liverpool judies they are welcome down,
Hurrah, me boys, we're homeward bound!
Them gals there on Lime Street we soon hope to meet,
And soon we'll be a-rolling both sides of the street.
We'll meet those fly girls and we'll ring the old bell,
With them judies we'll meet there we'll raise bloody hell.
Then I'll tell me old women when I gets back home,
The gals there on Lime Street won't leave me alone.
We're homeward bound, to the gals of the town,
So stamp up, me bullies, and heave it around.
Oh, we're homeward bound, we'll have yiz to know,
And over the water to Liverpool we'll go.
Our anchor we'll weigh and our sails we will set,The above verses are found on the link above. That webpage also has the following comments regarding this shanty.
Goodbye fare you well, goodbye fare you well,
Our friends we are leaving, we leave with regret,
Hurrah, me boys, we're homeward bound!
We're homeward bound, oh joyful sound,
Come ready the capstan and turn quick around.
We're homeward bound, we have you know,
And over the water to England must go.
We're homeward bound to Liverpool town,
The boys and the girls to the pier flock down.
Oh, then one to the other you hear them all say,
Here comes I and Jacky with eighteen month's pay.
So heave with a will and heave long and strong,
And sing a good chorus for it's a good song.
So, it's now we come home from the far foreign lands,
Where the bottom's all fishes and fine yellow sand.
And the fishes all sing as they swim to and fro,
She's a Liverpool packet, oh Lord, let her go.
So tell my old mother that I get back home,
The girls upon Lime Street won't leave me alone.
Louis Killen and chorus sang this fine capstan shanty accompanied by Dave Swarbrick on fiddle in 1964 on the Topic anthology Farewell Nancy: Sea Songs and Shanties. This album was reissued with bonus tracks in 1993 as the CD Blow the Man Down: A Collection of Sea Songs and Shanties. A.L. Lloyd commented on the album's liner notes:
Traditionally, this one was sung at the capstan when the anchor was raised for the homeward run, a big moment for men who might have been away for a year or more. W.M. Doerflinger says that when the shantyman led the gang in this song, “cheering from other vessels in port rang across the water to wish the homeward-bounders luck.” There are countless verses to this song. Those sung here are mostly from Stan Hugill's Shanties from the Seven Seas.Waterson:Carthy sang the less raunchy verses of Goodbye Fare You Well with Eliza in lead on their fifth album, Fishes & Fine Yellow Sand. This track was also included on the anthology Evolving Tradition 4. The original album's notes commented:
The album is topped and tailed by Goodbye Fare You Well and Twenty-One Years on Dartmoor. Liza put the former together from the mountain of verses to be found in Stan Hugill's master collection Shanties from the Seven Seas and had to leave out some beautiful verses otherwise we would have been at it all night. It's the one song on this CD which has no baddies in it and instead has singing fishes. Who needs Walt bloody Disney I say. (OK, Finding Nemo was fun).
"CW: Let's start with the word overfishing. A lot of us don't really know what it is. What is overfishing?"
"CW: How do you stop overfishing?"
"CW: Then does it really matter which fish we eat?"
"CW: Does that mean that you're against farmed fish?"
"CW: Speaking of local ports, if I own a sailboat, what can I do in my home port to help fish populations?"
"CW: So we should eat a lot more farmed oysters and mussels?"By the way, I learned something new with Greenberg's answer. I didn't realize that "mussells actually have massive amounts of heart-healthy omega-3 fatty acids - nearly as much as salmon." I wonder how many mussells one has to eat, however, to compair with a serving of salmon.
"CW: Is there anything we can do differently to help the ocean?"
"CW: But is it still OK for me to throw out a line while under sail and catch fish for dinner?"
"CW: With overfishing, global warming, ocean acidification, energy and mineral mining of the ocean floor - is the ocean doomed?"
- Buy seafood from small-scale fishermen who use gear that does not harm the bottom and that doesn't kill untargeted species.
- Find a community-supported fishery near you. Start your CSF search with the Northwest Altantic Marine Alliance (namanet.org/csf) and Local Catch (www.localcatch.org).
- If you eat farmed fish, choose Arctic char and barramundi.
- Cooperate with shellfish farmers in coastal waters near you.
- Eat more farmed oysters and mussels.
- If you're sailing in state-regulated waters, check first with state fish-and-game authorities so you know the regulations. When in federal waters, be suer toe check the federal regulations.
- When you fish, make use of barbless and circle hooks.
- Don't dump raw sewage overboard. It contributes to an overabundance of nutrients, and this eoxgenated the marine enviornment.
- If you're fishing from your boat, don't use treble hooks.
- If you have a choice between a motor and a sail, sail.
Heave Away Me Johnny
There's some that's bound for New York town
and some that's bound for France
Heave away me Johnny, heave away
And some that's bound for the Bengal Bay
To teach them whales to dance
Heave away me Johnny boy, we're all bound to go
The pilot he is awaiting for
The turning of the tide
Heave away me Johnny, heave away
And then me boys we'll be gone again
With the good and westerly wind
Heave away me Johnny boy, we're all bound to go
Farewell to you, you Kingston girls
Farewell St Andrews dock
Heave away me Johnny, heave away
If ever we'll return again
We'll make your cradles rock
Heave away me Johnny boy, we're all bound to go
Come all you hard working sailor lads
Who round the cape of storm
Heave away me Johnny, heave away
Be sure your boots and oilskins on
Or you'll wish you never was born
Heave away me Johnny boy, we're all bound to go
There's some that's bound for New York town
and some that's bound for France
Heave away me Johnny, heave away
And some that's bound for the Bengal Bay
To teach them whales to dance
Heave away me Johnny boy, we're all bound to go
(Lyrics found here)
I remember [Vladimir] Horowitz, the pianist... Just before the war [World War II] I dined at his house with his wife, the daughter of Toscanini. Rachmaninoff and Barbirolli were there... It was an intimate dinner, just five of us.It got me thinking about the creative process. In this week of celebrating Thanksgiving in the United States (22 November this year) we speak a lot of gratitude, of feelings of thanksgiving. With such "a feeling more than a belief" how are you creating art with your life?
It seems that each time art is discussed I have a different explanation of it. Why not? That evening I said that art was an additional emotion applied to skillful technique. Someone brought the topic round to religion and I confessed I was not a believer. Rachmaninoff quickly interposed: "But how can you have art without religion?"
I was stumped for a moment. "I don't think we are talking about the same thing," I said. "My concept of religion is a belief in a dogma--that art is a feeling more than a belief."
"So is religion," he answered. After that I shut up.
~ Charlie Chaplin, My Autobiography, (pages 395-397)
We are a people who journey as vessels containing wellsprings of hope;
sharing, replacing, and adding new waters
of proclamation, power, prophecy, and prayer
to the containers of our life and faith.
We pause and reflect on the movement of the tide in theis journey,
as it washes upon our shores,
cleansing and calling us back to ministry and faith.
The people are invited to stand where they are and share their prayers after each invitation is given.
O Creator God, let the waters of your womb heal.
Let us pray for our global community ...
Let us pray for the bent-overness of our lives and world ...
Let us pray for those living in the midst of violence ...
Let us pray for those living in poverty ...
Let us pray for the effort of peace ...
Let us pray to trust the validity of our experience ...
Let us pray for the call within
by the One who creates in us wellsprings of hope ...
O Creator God, may the waters that covered us at our birth
once again remind us of our creation in you.
Remind us that we are vessels of the waters of hope
and that your outpourings have power to heal
and make whole our bruised world.
Let the living waters of creation, womb, baptism, and Spirit
encircle us that we may remember we are yours and be thankful.
Psalm 8:3-5When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars which you have established;
what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
and mortals that you care for them?
Yet you have made them little less than God,
and crowned them with glory and honor.
SAINT SHINRANWhen I walk my dog at night, the route on the way home takes me past a Buddhist temple with a terrace on which stands a huge statue of Saint Shinran Shunin, a Buddhist saint of the twelfth century. This particular statue was in Hiroshima when the bomb fell, and was sent to the Buddhists in New York as a symbol of forgiveness and hope. Each night as my dog and I walk by the great statue, the huge bulk of metal wearing a patina I have never seen on another statue, I say, "Good night, Saint Shinran. Forgive us, and help us." and for me, at this moment, Saint Shinran is one of God's angels. Am I worshiping a pagan saint? A life-less hunk of metal? No! It is an attitude of heart, a part of turning to Christ.
I rejoice to read in William Johnston's The Inner Eye of Love that Saint Shinran rebelled against legalism and proclaimed "the pre-eminence of faith and grace," and that "he has been frequently compared to Luther."
Madeleine L'Engle. Glimpses of Grace: Daily Thoughts and Reflections. Ed Carole F. Chase. HarperSanFrancisco, 1996. 290.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, | |
And sorry I could not travel both | |
And be one traveler, long I stood | |
And looked down one as far as I could | |
To where it bent in the undergrowth; | 5 |
Then took the other, as just as fair, | |
And having perhaps the better claim, | |
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; | |
Though as for that the passing there | |
Had worn them really about the same, | 10 |
And both that morning equally lay | |
In leaves no step had trodden black. | |
Oh, I kept the first for another day! | |
Yet knowing how way leads on to way, | |
I doubted if I should ever come back. | 15 |
I shall be telling this with a sigh | |
Somewhere ages and ages hence: | |
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— | |
I took the one less traveled by, | |
And that has made all the difference. | 20 |
The Universe is God'sA while ago when I was at Berea College in Kentucky I was asked the usual earnest questions about creationism vs. evolution.
I laughed and said that I really couldn't get very excited about it. The only question worth asking is whether or not the universe is God's. If the answer is YES! then why get so excited about how? The important thing is that we are God's, created in love. And what about those seven days? In whose time are they? Eastern Standard Time? My daughter in San Francisco lives in a time zone three hours earlier than mine. In Australia, what time is it? Did God create in human time? Solar time? Galactic time? What about God's time? What matter if the first day took a few billennia in our time, and the second day a few billennia more?
I told the student at Berea that some form of evolution seems consistent with our present knowledge, and that I didn't think that God put the fossil skeletons of fish in the mountains of Nepal to test our faith, as some creationists teach. But if I should find out tomorrow that God's method of creation was something quite different from either creationism or evolution, that would in no way shake my faith, because that is not where my faith is centered.
Lord I sing your praise
the whole day through, until the night.
Dad’s nets are filled; I have helped him.
We have drawn them in, stamping the rhythm with
our feet,
the muscles tense.
We have sung your praise.
On the beach there were our mammies,
who brought the blessings out of the nets,
out of the nets and into their basins.
They rushed to the market, returned and bought again.
Lord, what a blessing is the sea, with fish in plenty.
Lord, that is the story of your grace:
nets tear, and we succumb because we can not hold
them.
Lord, with your praise we drop off to sleep.
Carry us through the night.
Make us fresh for the morning.
Hallelujah for the day!
And blessing for the night!
Amen
Ghana traditional prayer
House size graph, courtesy Cascadia Green Building Council |
In acquiescing in compassion's exile, are are surrendering the fullness of nature and of human nature, for we, like all creatures in the cosmos, are compassionate creatures. All persons are compassionate at least potentially. What we all share today is that we are victims of compassion's exile. The difference between persons and groups of persons is not that some are victims and some are not: we are all victims and all dying from lack of compassion; we are all surrendering our humanity together. The difference is in how persons react to this fact of compassion's exile and our victimization. Some persons react by joining the forces that continue the exile of compassion and joining them with a single mindedness and tenacity that guarantees still more violence, still more of compassion's exile; other react by despair and cynicism - drink, eat and be happy for tomorrow we exterminate ourselves; still others react with what Ned O'Gorman calls the "abstract calm" of intellectuals and other too-busy people who want it both ways and advocate political change while living high on the hog. Others are reacting by fleeing to fundamentalist religions and spiritualisms. Spiritualist and fundamentalist spiritualities that forsake the tradition of imago dei and humanity's deification in favor of the preaching of sin and redemption will have virtually nothing to say about compassion, for compassion is a divine attribute (see chapter one) and a creative energy force and will not be learned by a cheap religious masochism.
This book is an introduction to an analysis of compassion. It is meant to support those many persons who are moving to a fuller and fuller holistic life style - and there are many. It is also meant as an invitation to those still involved in the ladder-climbing dynamic of so much of our society to consider another way, a better way, called compassion. A more fun-filled and more justice-oriented way. A way of getting in tune with the universe at a time when, intellectually and at the level of scientific discovery, we are confirming the fact that mystics have preached for centuries - namely, that the universe is a very finely tuned organism indeed. And yet, at the level of life-styles and social structures, we are hardly in tune with the universe at all.
Matthew Fox. A Spirituality Named Compassion and the Healing of the Global Village, Humpty Dumpty and Us. Winston Press, 1979. ii-iii.
To be sure I lose the fruits of the earth,
But then I am gathering the flowers of the Sea.
~ Admiral Boscawen, 1756
"[People] think you lose your freedom when you come into a monastery. Now you're under obedience, you can't do what you want anymore, can't go out when you want, can't spend money like you want, all these other things we lose, you know ... But [this life] gives us a great freedom, the freedom to live our life in God."When interviewing Mother Julianne, she relates how the events of 9/11 brought back terrible memories of fellow sisters who experienced firsthand the terrors of Guatemala, Rwanda, and Bosnia. Carlson reflects:
I thought of the last stanza of T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland, where Eliot compares human life to a sailboat under masterful control. The boat achieves its end, reaches its destination, when the rudder and lines to the sails are controlled. Chaos and confusion, not freedom, are achieved in letting go the lines and leaving the boat to the mercy of the wind. Monastic life is all about taking hold of the ropes - these ropes of discipline that lead to freedom (30).
I was unexpectedly moved by Mother Julianne's connecting 9/11 with the suffering in Guatemala and Rwanda (and later in the interview, Bosnia). She was articulating something that had saddened me about our nation's reaction to 9/11. Our grief could have become a bridge of understanding and empathy to others in the world who have known (and continue to experience) horrendous suffering. But that had not happened. I had yet to hear anyone ask, "Was 9/11 something like what the Japanese experienced in Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"And, yet, here is a nun with the world/faith view to say "'I think that's why 9/11 took on a whole international [meaning] - it's not just an American problem. It's a problem of our present [global] society'" (43).
Instead, 9/11 only seemed to isolate us further from the world. To most Americans, the tragedy of 9/11 was experienced as a bubble to suffering so unique that only we could possibly feel the severity of the pain. Our grief seemed to become our private possession (42-3).
Several years later, in New Seeds of Contemplation (1961), Merton would express this insight as seeing the mystical Christ in the people around him. "For in becoming man, God became not only Jesus Christ, but also potentially every man and woman that ever existed. In Christ, God became not only 'this' man, but also, in a broader and more mystical sense, yet no less truly, 'every man'" (99 - from Merton's Seeds 294-5)
In Merton's view, the Incarnation, the belief that God became human in Christ, was not an abstract theological doctrine, not simply a creedal statement, but an actual transformation of the entire human race. As a drop of holy water is said to have power to sanctify an entire ocean, as a spore of leaven affects the entire loaf, God becoming human has changed us all. The decisive moment of human history had come in Christ, the God-man, and, for Merton, this was the answer to the Cold War of his own lifetime. I swallowed hard ... I had come to believe that Merton's insight was becoming for me an answer to 9/11 (134-5).
Here was the truth about contemplation, that contemplation is a protest, a refusal to concede the victory to hatred, vengeance, materialism, tribalism, or individualism. Contemplation can be the collective experience of a minority (a "whispered peace"), but that minority insists that a depth of living exists, even within those who are ignorant of that depth, where healing, wholeness, and unity can never be destroyed. Contemplation is radical in that it anticipates not the destruction of our adversaries but our reconciliation with them (164).His interview with Richard Bresnahan (see previous posting about his pottery here) is incredible. Bresnahan has deep insights into what it means an artist is to be doing, and how the life of an artist shapes everything. One's vocation is not just lived out at work, but in all of one's life. And humans are here to balance out the ecosystem.
The cornerstone of this new understanding of the mystical Christ as present within humanity. The Incarnation is much more radical an event than is reflected in our brief Christmas festivities. The Incarnation means that Jesus has entered this world and lurks, albeit often in a hidden way, within the entire human race. I began to realize that I did not need to bring Jesus to bear on our crisis. What I needed to do was find Jesus moving in the midst of it (228).And the Incarnation leads to love.
And our failure to trust in this unfathomable love had been our lost chance after 9/11. "We had an opportunity to not only heal ourselves ... to receive healing, but also to help the world," [Brother Christopher] said. "That didn't necessarily preclude trying to bring to justice the perpetrators of the act, but we, in my judgment, have squandered that. And that's almost as big a tragedy as the act of 9/11 itself." ... "It was a kairos moment [a time of great significance] ... and is this an opportunity where can be seen? And make no mistake about it; we're not looking for a deus ex machina swinging down. At least I'm not. I'm not expecting all of a sudden Jesus coming down or the Rapture taking place ... No, rather, we become the means of grace. We become God's hands, God's feet. We become the instruments of the gospel. Or not!" he emphasized (243).
In our response to the tragedy of 9/11, we had replaced the God of the paschal mystery with the God of vengeance. The God whom Jesus embodied had made a far different choice. God had chosen forgiveness. God did not condemn the world for crucifying His Son, but raised Jesus for the sake of the world - for the sake of us who continue to crucify Christ in our actions toward others. ... We had failed to understand 9/11 in light of the death and resurrection of Christ. We had left Christ on the cross.
For Christians to view 9/11 and the world of terrorism through the paschal mystery of Christ's death and resurrection will be difficult and complex. Such a stance does not mean condoning or ignoring what al-Qaeda did on September 11, any more than God, in Christian belief, ignored or condoned the sinfulness of humanity in crucifying His Son. No, forgiveness must mean, as the South African activist Malusi Mpumlwana suggests, helping our adversaries recover their humanity (246-7).