In Our Distress

Meditation: angelus est nomen officii

In my extremity, I called out to the Lord;
I cried out in the congregation in my distress.
I was answered with love;
I was restored and removed to a better place;
With the love of the Lord with me, how can I be cut down?

Place your trust in the Lord;
Seek the Almighty where he waits upon his beloved;
Though your enemies surround you;
Though you find yourself at fault and unworthy;
Though you see no escape, there is help and hope for you;
The Lord is our strength and right arm;
His servants listen for the cry of the oppressed;
They wait upon the word of the Lord.

The Lord is our salvation and our help;
Though we may be chastised,
we are not condemned;
Though we find ourselves in distress;
even at the end of our lives and beyond;
We are enfolded and comforted;
In the Lord we find our true labor;
In the Lord we truly find ourselves.

-distantly after Ps 118

I Help and Stand Back (Reprise)

I am reprising this post to honor Maple Leaf Lutheran Church of Seattle who voted overwhelmingly yesterday to host Tent City 3 against not insignificant opposition.

Proposed Antiphon: We are all one in God's great scheme, in God no lonely ways. ; But myriads of blessings over an infinity of days.

I help and stand back
I open the door and get out of the way
I show you those in need and you reach out to them
I whisper a question in your ear and you find a solution
I find you a little cash and you donate it
Some food, and you share it
A moment of peace...
An ounce of grace...
I am a silent helping presence while you work
You invoke me and credit me
But I was just a signpost and a prop
You pushed to your feet
You stepped in harm's way
You tangled with hardship
You struggled with need
You made do with little
You loved in the midst of carelessness and hate
You do not stand without help, it is true...
But you stand
And I love you

Bless you, each and every one

Original post here.

I like this.

Perhaps related: A worn courderoy kind of life

Create

Our God is a Creator;
He generates and nurtures;
He loves and cares;
And you are God's child.

When you are without;
Remember that God is with you;
You are not alone;
You are beloved and betrothed.

God stands with you;
And God's armies surround you;
And God's angeles support you;
Your self, and your soul are safe;
You are not alone;

Listen for the voice of God;
Listen to the voice of God;
It is not a voice that says;
'Reject';
It is not a voice that says;
'Condemn';
It is not a voice that syas;
'Hate';

It is a voice that says;
'Help';
It is a voice that says;
'Share';
It is a voice that says;
'find a place where you can make a difference';

Create in your life;
Do what you can;
In the place you find yourself.

God is with you;
And God blesses your creations;
Leave your frustrations and anger behind, and

Create!

I am a poor steward

I am a poor steward.
I fail to go.
And when I do,
I go too slow.

I am a poor steward,
I have not done much.
I have not helped
I did not touch.

I am a poor steward,
It was not enough
I did not volunteer
When things got tough.

I am a poor steward,
I whine and moan
To help is hard
I trudge, I groan.

I play dumb games,
I waste my time,
I forget names,
I make up rhymes.

I am a poor steward,
And much I waste.
I don’t do good,
I am less ‘salt’ than ‘paste’.

I will be a poor steward,
But still I’ll go.
Please, forgive me, Lord,
That I go slow.

The Crazy Lady and the Angel

On the section of the Berlin wall located near Battery Park City

The crazy lady and the angel
Stand on the wall

The crazy lady on the outside
The safe side
The ‘go about your business’ side
She wears bright colors
Her skin is green
Her lips are brilliant red
She is lively and creative

The angel is on the inside
Where people used to get killed just for walking
For running to freedom
She is harder to see
But she is there
Who painted her, and when?
Who saw her in those days?
Was she the last thing someone saw?
Perhaps she was meant to comfort, to mourn, and not be consoled
To commemorate children, brothers and sisters, parents, friends, cousins lost

Perhaps that was her purpose
Certainly she does that now
Now that she no longer stands in the shadow of machine guns and barbed wire
Now that she is a curiosity, and a memorial

And it strikes me that life is like this
There is the wild and crazy ‘go about your business’ side
And the serious side
The side of life and death
where people struggle for life and freedom
Where angels stand close to comfort and assist us

It is good to be bright, lively and creative
But let us also be strong and helpful
And stand to help those who struggle for life and freedom

The Voices We Will Not Hear

Alternate Title: 'We Are The Friends'

They are wrong.
They are so very wrong.
We can't hear their voice.

They call out to us - they say:
Isn't this injustice?
Isn't this torture?
Isn't this slavery?

But we can't hear.
We talk louder.
We talk about other things.
We talk about their failings;
We talk about their sin;
We talk about their error.

They sit in their ash-pits,
Covered with sin,
Covered with death,
Covered with sores,
Maligning righteousness,
Indicting the good we do,
Trying to pull us down with them.

They call out to us - they say:
Is this right?
Is this fair?
Is this justice?

But we won't hear;
Instead we talk about maintaining order,
We talk about helping others,
We talk about sharing,
We talk about becoming involved.

They moan on their death-beds accusingly,
They sigh from their cells,
Their deaths scream out to us,
Maligning righteousness,
Indicting good,
Trying to pull down God.

They call out to us - they say:
Would you want this?
Would you choose this?
Would you live this?

But we refuse to hear,
Instead we talk about precedent,
Instead we talk about independence,
Instead we talk about the needs of others,
We shift away so that they don't contaminate us.

They shuffle in their shackles frighteningly,
Occasionally they catch our eyes uncomfortably,
They abusively mention their lost children,
They truculently bring up their lost freedom,
Trying to make us feel sorry for what they deserved,
Trying to shift the argument,
Trying to unseat justice.

They call out to us - they say;
Would you do this to your friend?
Would you do this to a servant?
Do you still keep slaves?

But we won't hear;
We make up stories about them that might be true,
We talk about the rights of others,
We talk about how they cannot be trusted,

They are wrong.
They are so very wrong.
We can not hear their voice.

Hope for the Hopeless

I found myself in a valley, and the floor of that valley was strewn with bones.

Human bones.

Dry, dusty, no life in them, nothing in them that anything could live on.

And a voice said to me: “Can these bones live?”

Live? They are the essence of death!

“Prophesy over these bones! They shall live!”
“Sinews shall grow, flesh and skin shall cover them, breath shall enter them and they shall live!”

So I spoke the word of the Lord, and flesh came upon the bones, and breath entered them, and they stood upon their feet, a living multitude.

And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken and will act," says the LORD. -Ezekiel 37:1-14

Photo Credit Rob Wakefield

Here's Mud In Your Eye:

100 Words on Dirt (John 9:1-11):

He rubbed dirt in his eyes!

What?

The man they are calling ‘Teacher’.

Oh, the new prophet-guy, Jesus. You said he put dirt in someone’s eyes?

Worse, he took dirt, he spit on it, made mud and rubbed it in this man’s eyes!

The man didn’t try to stop him?

No, No, he was blind.

What, it wasn’t bad enough that he was blind in the first place? Didn’t anyone else try to stop him?

No, we didn’t think of it – and it made him see!

He puts dirt in people’s eyes and makes them see; now that’s a miracle.

Peace,

LE

Words of Comfort

There are many who feel rejected and judged by the faith - judged unworthy - found to be reprobate - irredeemable and vile, doomed to torment, cast out of community, shunned.

It is for them I copy out the following words of comfort. May meditating on them bring you joy in this Advent season:

From John 12:

And if any man hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not: for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.


From John 3:

God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have eternal life.


From 1 Timothy 1:

This is a true saying, and worthy of all men to be received, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.


From 1 John 2:

If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the propitiation for our sins.


From Romans 8:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? [...] I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.


From 1 John 1:

And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full. This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth: But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.


May you find joy in your path this Advent season, wherever your wanderings take you.

-LE

Friend of Mankind

Listen and compare to our Judeo-Christian stories of Jacob and Christ's resurrection in this, the legend of how Hiawatha obtained Maize (corn) to ease the hunger of humankind.

     "From the Master of Life descending, I, the friend of man, Mondamin, Come to warn you and instruct you, How by struggle and by labor You shall gain what you have prayed for. Rise up from your bed of branches, Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me!"

     Faint with famine, Hiawatha Started from his bed of branches, From the twilight of his wigwam Forth into the flush of sunset Came, and wrestled with Mondamin; At his touch he felt new courage Throbbing in his brain and bosom, Felt new life and hope and vigor Run through every nerve and fibre.

     So they wrestled there together In the glory of the sunset, And the more they strove and struggled, Stronger still grew Hiawatha; Till the darkness fell around them, And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her nest among the pine-trees, Gave a cry of lamentation, Gave a scream of pain and famine.

     "'T Is enough!" then said Mondamin, Smiling upon Hiawatha, "But tomorrow, when the sun sets, I will come again to try you." And he vanished, and was seen not; Whether sinking as the rain sinks, Whether rising as the mists rise, Hiawatha saw not, knew not, Only saw that he had vanished, Leaving him alone and fainting, With the misty lake below him, And the reeling stars above him.

     On the morrow and the next day, When the sun through heaven descending, Like a red and burning cinder From the hearth of the Great Spirit, Fell into the western waters, Came Mondamin for the trial, For the strife with Hiawatha; Came as silent as the dew comes, From the empty air appearing, Into empty air returning, Taking shape when earth it touches, But invisible to all men In its coming and its going.

     Thrice they wrestled there together In the glory of the sunset, Till the darkness fell around them, Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her nest among the pine-trees, Uttered her loud cry of famine, And Mondamin paused to listen.

     Tall and beautiful he stood there, In his garments green and yellow; To and fro his plumes above him, Waved and nodded with his breathing, And the sweat of the encounter Stood like drops of dew upon him.

     And he cried, "O Hiawatha! Bravely have you wrestled with me, Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me, And the Master of Life, who sees us, He will give to you the triumph!"

     Then he smiled, and said: "To-morrow Is the last day of your conflict, Is the last day of your fasting. You will conquer and o'ercome me; Make a bed for me to lie in, Where the rain may fall upon me, Where the sun may come and warm me; Strip these garments, green and yellow, Strip this nodding plumage from me, Lay me in the earth, and make it Soft and loose and light above me.

     "Let no hand disturb my slumber, Let no weed nor worm molest me, Let not Kahgahgee, the raven, Come to haunt me and molest me, Only come yourself to watch me, Till I wake, and start, and quicken, Till I leap into the sunshine"

From Hiawatha; by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1856

The Unseen Tree

I have a maple tree in my back yard.

Or so I discover.

It was there all along, among the small trees growing behind the forsythia.

But the last couple days have been quite brisk,

And this morning,

As I made my mind up to apologize to someone,

The sun caught it just so;

And its leaves previously unremarkable,

Burst into flame.

And all the angels sang.

Peace,
LE

A Worn Courderoy Kind of Life - Reprise

This is a reprise of one of my favorite posts (originally posted here), while I am mulling a variety of things including faith, the Trinity, completeness, flawed realities and the like. Enjoy!

A Worn Courderoy Kind of Life:

I was traveling back to New Jersey from the New York City area late this evening, and as I came across the George Washington Bridge, along route 95 and then 80, it struck me that somehow this bit of road was a bit like a worn old pair of corduroys.

Worn smooth in some places, patched in others;

Comfortably out of style, with its pink and green Marcal Paper Products sign, and its cylindrical Holiday Inn.

And comfortable in how many times it has taken me home, along with thousands and millions of others, rolling home, year after year, to lives that changed radically over time.

As if to rub it in, the radio started playing Chuck Mangione’s “Give it All you Got” from, what was it? 1970-something. Remember those Olympics? Lake Placid? Long time ago now.

My life is like that. Patched, worn smooth in places. Holes in it where it doesn’t really work right anymore, where you can see layers of something that came before underneath. Funny, half-remembered bits and preserved things that don't really make sense anymore patched in or poking through.

Probably your life is like this too, and if it isn’t, it probably will be.

That is one of the wonderful things about life though, like corduroys and asphalt, it takes patching well, and can take you to places you never imagined, while staying kind of plain and ordinary every step of the way.

May you all, when you look at your life, see it as less worn out, and more worn in, broken in, and comfortable, and may you find many friends and angels among your fellow travelers, friends who appreciate a comfortable old corduroy kind of a life.

Peace,
LE

Normally ExtraOrdinary

“A hero is someone doing extraordinary things, what I did was not extraordinary. It was a normal thing to do.” - Irena Sendler

Irena, risked her life, and suffered much torment to rescue 2,500 children from the Nazis. But in her eyes, her risk, torture, and soic self-sacrifice were just 'normal' things to do.

May we all be such people, that risking our lives and suffering for our neighbors is merely a 'normal' thing to do.

But if it is not normal to love so much, then let us be extra-ordinary, and may God bless us with the courage, the energy, and the strength to change the world such that the extrordinary becomes normal.

Peace,
LE

The Angel at the Loom

I walked into a room with yellow walls, and sitting there was a girl of about twelve, dressed all in white and working at setting up a loom. (Which if you know about weaving, you know is no small task.) So I sat down beside her and began working with her. After some time working together we finally finished, and I said 'Yay! We are Done!' And I went to hug the little girl to celebrate our success. But she drew back and said 'I am not allowed to hug people... ...but I can kiss them!'
Thinking that this made NO sense, I woke up.


Peace,
LE


A few additions/thoughts on this:

The room felt warm and friendly.
I didn't think of the girl as other than a girl till I awoke.

Perhaps the loom is a symbol of life, and the way it works out.

The work was already underway, and I entered into that work.

The delicate, knowing touch of her fingers on the threads as we worked together.

How Jesus was unable to be touched when Mary found him in the garden, but was able to be touched later by Thomas and the other disciples.

The kiss of peace.

'Angel kisses' seen as causing freckles and birthmarks - and also seen as being blessings.


I think that this was a spiritual dream, and encourages me/all of us to enter into God's labors.

I/we were not helping finish the work, but helping to start it - meaning much is ahead of us and we are still laying the foundation stones of God's great work.

The Angel is glad for my/our help and pleased with our progress, and has a kiss/blessing(s) to share with those who enter into the labors.

And... ...I wish I had stayed to begin the weaving.

May you all enter into God's labors and find many blessings there!

The Testing of Mother Teresa

I am, I think, still mulling the separation from God that Mother Teresa reportedly felt for much of her career, and spiritual dry spells in general. I have read that individuals often, even usually, experience very difficult spiritual dry spells as they advance in faith.

I sometimes wonder if this isn't because these adepts become so close to God, that they lose the sense of God as distinct from theirselves. Or maybe as they graduate from the primary school of faith they should need less direction and encouragement. Or are evil forces blinding them to the presence of God? Or maybe something else is going on... ...but what?

It is sure that these dry times exist for many, and that they are painful. But why do they exist? Are we just too needy, constantly demanding the full attention of our God-parent? Do we forget what brought us here in the first place? Do we lose contact with the love that should be charging us?

I am sorry Mother Teresa apparently felt so very lost for so long, but in the face of that lack of confirmation, that lack of consolation, she fought on in the faith, battling a lonely battle for and alongside us all. She had faith enough for this battle, and carried it to the end.

God Bless Mother Teresa and those who follow in her footsteps. May it be that from now on they find God always at their side.

Peace,
LE

About You

You are goodness
And you do great things

You turn your hands to healing
You turn your heart to helping

You feel for others
You see their pain

You find their needs
And think of solutions

You do not sit and wait to be called
But think to go and do

You are the spirit of the arisen world
And God is with you everywhere

Blessed Be!

I help and stand back

I help and stand back
I open the door and get out of the way
I show you those in need and you reach out to them
I whisper a question in your ear and you find a solution
I find you a little cash and you donate it
Some food, and you share it
A moment of peace...
An ounce of grace...
I am a silent helping presence while you work
You invoke me and credit me
But I was just a signpost and a prop
You pushed to your feet
You stepped in harm's way
You tangled with hardship
You struggled with need
You made do with little
You loved in the midst of carelessness and hate
You do not stand without help, it is true...
But you stand
And I love you
Bless you, each and every one

Today we Mourn

Today we mourn and pray for those who were lost or injured in yesterday's bridge collapse, and pray for their families and friends.

And we also give thanks that so few seem to have been lost or hurt, for the favorable weather, and for the many helping hands that appeared when needed.

May God turn our mourning hearts to each other, and may we find comfort.

Making a Difference:

Two wonderful examples of how to make a difference in the world, from one blogger;
One:
be sharp-eyed and sensitive.
Two:
Be a friend to strangers.

See, that's not so hard, is it?