Wasteland Pictures

Not so long ago, I published a post entitled Wasteland. I thought it might be neat if you got to see what I saw, and so here are some pictures from the very wasteland I was writing about:

Some grapes growing next to a cable supporting an electrical line...

Some immature raspberries... Today I see that some of them are ripe and that they are plump and lovely BLACK raspberries, and that many have been eaten by the little critters who live here.

And a funny bug on milkweed blossoms:

May your day be equally full of beauty in unexpected places.


P.S. I have replaced the picture on this blog of 'St Kevin's Chapel' with a picture of a grasshopper, as perhaps more appropriate. The insect in question was only briefly held and released back where it was captured. No grasshoppers were eaten or harmed in any way in the production of this blog.

What Is A Miracle?

What is a miracle?
Does it have to be supernatural,
Or will 'unlikely' do?
Is whatever God does a miracle?

What about a rescue worker's efforts?
The emergancy room doctor?
The stranger who helps when you are lost?
Or the person who listens and helps when you are upset?

Perhaps miracles are like blessings, like sacraments - outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace;

And perhaps we walk in the midst of miracles of life, miracles of light, every day. Little ones and big ones.

Recently I was at a weekend celebration, and one of the guests of honor was worried that there would not be enough beer, although it seemed to me that few people there were beer drinkers. So a little beer was bought.

Over the course of the weekend, it seemed to me that whenever I looked, there was more beer, some varieties I didn't recognize.

...I sampled some, and it was good. We ended up bringing a healthy amount back from the weekend.

There was more than enough.

...Probably, probably people at the celebration bought and brought the overabundance. No supernatural power need be invoked. But the image of that beer stuck with me.

A silly miracle, I suppose.

But it occurs to me that it *was* a wedding celebration; 50 years of wedded bliss in this case.

And again, is it less of a miracle if it has a practical explanation?

Isn't the miracle the spiritual part of the event? The blessing of it happening, no matter if in Cana almost 2000 years ago, or last week?

God does get involved, I think, in the mundane things in our lives;

No, even more; God lives, I think, in the mundane, as well as the obviously transcendant.

Everything IS Illuminated.

Not Really A Spoiler

Harry Potter doesn't die
Instead he's merely killed

Hermionie will not marry him
Though Fleur does marry Bill

Dumbledore won't just stay dead
Snape and he are in cahoots

And Voldemort should have invested more
In wizard mourning suits

Remus gets an orphan,
And Albus goes to school

Mrs Weasley saves the day,
And Neville is no fool

And when the story's over
It starts over again

With the train to Hogwart's
And Potter's last girlfriend.

The Mosaic Lion

I dreampt that I was visiting a small town in Italy that was tucked in a niche in the base of a volcanic outcrop, sort of a cross between a dike and a volcanic neck. The outcrop formed a pinnacle in the center and two ridges of the same very dark brown rock swooped down to the plain from which the outcrop protruded at a wide angle, curving ever-so-slightly as if to contain something as they dissapeared beneath the yellow, dusty plain.

And there, between the arms of the outcrop, lay the plaza of the town. And it was not just any plaza, but a plaza made up of many colored bricks that made up a huge, rather realistic mosaic of a proud lion standing in left profile, tail twitched in front of its left haunch, head turned slightly towards the viewer.

The niche in the outcrop, and its little town faced the plaza, faced the lion that was turning to look at it.

And I sat at an outdoor table in that town with my true love, sampling tiny, bitter pickles that were the specialty of the town, as our waiter, who wore clothes with faint, small vertical bands of maroon and brown of varying width and a crumpled looking white apron, explained that eating a lot of these pickles would make us sick, and could be fatal. I told him not to worry, we would be careful, and I awoke.

Is the message of the dream temperance and moderation? Is it more about accepting your situation and nature? Is it about enjoying where you are? Is the lion a pagan symbol alone, or is it symbolic of the watchfulness of Christ, whom I associate with the lion? Why does the lion face the little town, and the pinnacle, and not the plain?

Perhaps this last question I can answer, in a practical way: the lion is posed for someone on the pinnacle, or in a building within its niche to view it.

Perhaps the lion is not concerned with those who might assault the town, but with the welfare of its residents.

Perhaps the theme of the dream is care: caring for yourself and others, being careful, and taking care to appreciate where you are, and who you are with.

Or maybe there is a message in the way the earth in the form of the outcrop, the lion; a symbol of faith, and the town all form an integrated whole, working together to form a place which people can call home.

Wednesdays

This post has been lightly edited since first posted

You might think that Monday starts the week
Or maybe Sunday.

You might think Friday ends the week, or maybe Sunday again.

But Wednesday is the middle.
Most certainly the middle,
The center of the week.

Thursday and Friday and Saturday and Sunday have particular liturgical connotations. Church Fathers, Christian theologians and mystics have suggested that Sunday and every day be a participation in the great Eighth Day, when Jesus rose; and that Saturdays remind us of Holy Saturday in holy week, and that Fridays all remind us of Good Friday, and that Thursdays remind us of Maundy (or perhaps Agape) Thursday. Each is rich in tradition.

But Wednesday is kind of like the end of 'ordinary time' - the last day before the mystery and passion is revealed.

Where does Wednesday sit liturgically?

And what devotions do you add to Wednesday?

Perhaps Wednesday should remind us of Ash Wednesday?

Should Wednesday be a solemn day of preparation?

Or is it the last regular day before you start thinking about the weekend?

Much as I like a good party, our current culture's celebration of 'hump day' seems wrong-headed.

Is what we are doing with our work-days, our weeks so very useless, unfulfilling, and without reward that we must celebrate when the week is half over?

It seems like a disgraceful way to view what we do with our lives, and not how we should value or spend our limited time here.

Instead, perhaps Wednesday, in the weekly cycle, is where we make our transition from living in the eighth day, to preparing to meditate on Christ's passion again.

A joyful but serious day, a day of preparation. A day to express love, to share, to care, to help, to do little things, a day to finish one thing and begin anew.

May God bless you in all your days.

Love,
locust-eater

"They'll Take Anyone"

Jesus stands at the door and knocks,
But not just at your door,
You'll find him knocking along every street
Mine, and theirs, and yours

This feast that we are called to
Is open to all who'll come;
And it's our job to welcome
Each and every one

We must mean it when we say that
Our sins belong to God;
Jesus himself has told us
We may find the guest list odd.

Forgiveness is for sinners,
For us sinners, every one;
And a mixed lot of repentant sinners,
Will make our feasting much more fun.

So may we be among the guilty;
Told: "You'll take anyone",
And be numbered with those oddball saints,
When at last our lives are done.

Peace,
LE

That's Nuttin!

A thousand folks came knocking
A thousand at the door
A thousand people searching
A thousand, and now more

A thousand hidden smiles
A thousand who came by
A thousand from all countries
A thousand who drew nigh

A thousand quiet moments
A thousand friends to tea
A thousand 'I understand's
A thousand friends for me

A thousand people questing
A thousand asking why
A thousand gleaming stars
A thousand in the sky

A thousand cups of coffee
A thousand bits of toast
A thousand hands held in comfort
A thousand times a host

A thousand questions answered
A thousand, more or less
A thousand joined in prayer
A thousand joined to bless

A thousand is so little
A thousand is so small
A thousand is not many
I have space for one and all

So come in off the doorstep
Come in, come through the door
Come into my guest room
There's room for many more

Thanks to each of you for coming
I'm sad when your visits end
And please do come back often
And please do bring a friend

I'll be waiting by the doorstep
I'll have the kettle on for tea
Come by whenever you want to
And spend more time with me

-LE