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 Want Only Those Books Which Are Worth Reading Twice

I want only those books
Which are worth reading twice

And why read it again
Lest it’s worth reading thrice?

And if I must read it thrice
It should be worthy of more -

The number of readings
It must exceed four

It must be worth reading again
It must always be new

It must tell me things hidden
It must tell me things true

It should grip me and draw me
It must make me lose sleep

It must teach me to laugh
It must cause me to weep

The story must flow
through my body and soul

It must make me feel wounded
It must make me feel whole

So when I hear ‘oh, I read that’
I think ‘oh, how sad’

A book you read once
Must be unbearably bad.

And just so may we be reading
The good book of 'The Other'

Good books much worth reading;
Book Sister and Book Brother

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!

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.

What to Wear?

When we go a feasting
We wonder what to wear
Which shoes go on our feet
If we should 'do' our hair

Is this a time for white
Or should we all wear black
Should we buff our buttons bright
Or could we wear a sack

When we enter in
If we aren't like the rest
We might feel singled out
The cuckoo in the nest

But some don't have the means
To buy a fancy suit
For them 'What to Wear'
The question is quite moot

So when we gather in
And hope that all will come
I'd like if we dressed humbly
Both rich and poor as one

And maybe the Lord God
Who forgives our sinfulness
Will value every single soul
No matter how we dress


Peace
LE

Tell Your Story

It has been a while since the passing of Madeline L'Engle, but thoughts of her and her writing keep coming to mind, and so maybe, in this meditative season of Lent, contemplating the following words from this spiritual woman is appropriate:

“Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer.
“It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”

So, my guests and friends, share your stories. It will help us all, more than we can know.

Peace,
LE

All Lenten Thoughts

Diggin

Do you have anything for me today, Lord?
Something in your sack?
Some miracle for me Lord?
Something to bring my cheer back?

I don’t want to dig all my life, Lord,
Don’t want to dig and hew
Don’t want to labor for the taskmaster, Lord,
Isn’t there anything you can do?

I owe my life to the government, Lord
And the banks stole it all away
I never agreed to sell my freedom, Lord
I never gave it away

Find me where I am working, Lord
Kuz they won’t let me stop
Find me where I am slaving, Lord
Working on the job

I’ll be digging for your glory, Lord
I’ll be digging for Love
I’ll be telling my story, Lord
And dreaming of heaven above

May all your dreams be peaceful and happy,
Even if your life is less cooperative.

Joy

You are not yet so joyful as I mean you to be!

So Live-
And live in joy!
And share your joy and love with those you meet-

Be not dauted;
but daunt with love-

Let your heart expand;
Let your love flow;

And live in joy-
Mourn no more;
And regrets leave behind-

But share and give;
And love;
And live!

Let your blood flow;
And let your love grow-

And all you are;
And all you can be;
And all you are with;

Give
And Give;
And Give;
And Give!!!

Be not single and small
But Live
And Live;
And Live;
And Live!!!

For living is about giving;
And giving is about living;
And loving is about living;
And loving is avout giving;

So Give;
And Love;
And Love;
And Live!!!

Joy!

Care of the Dead

We honor and care for our departed in many ways.

Some of what we do is profoundly practical;

-collection of bodies by families and health workers;

-cleaning, preservation, and clothing or wrapping of bodies so they can be neatly managed;

-documenting and displaying of bodies so that those who had dealings with the departed can know that they are truly dead;

-final disposition of bodies that prevent them from becoming food for hazardous beasts or disease-spreading vermin.

And these are practical, sensible steps that humans execute to properly manage the dead in almost every culture, and which we have done since the days of the Neanderthals.

These tasks have also a 'ritual feel' to them, a depth. I think that few can care for the dead without being moved. Like children, or the very ill, the dead cannot care for themselves. They will not complain. They have no words, arguments, or expression any more. What filled them and gave them life is gone.

So we care for them. Sometimes we can express things to the dead we could not, cannot, to the living.

The dead do not judge.

The dead do not get angry.

The dead wait on us, and on God.

So we care for their mortal shell;

We place pictures, reminders, and little offerings;

...Where they died,
...Where they are buried,
...At memorials,
...In our workplaces,
...In our homes,
...In our lives

The dead cannot use these things.

The dead don't need flowers or sea shells,
Pebbles or crosses,
Candles or pictures

But we do.

We living, need to remember;

This one was, and is no more
This one lived
This one loved and was loved

This was one of us.


-for Boomer, and all our loved ones

Five Tasks

Share truth

Create peace

Give space

Make time

Be good



Share truth, because truth is the coin of wisdom, the river that life swims in, and the raw material of civilization.

Create peace, because noise, enimity, and war are poison to thought, care, and life

Give space, because space is the dwelling place of dignity and honor, and food for the spirit.

Make time, because within moments of time are found infinities that can be turned powerfully to the service of light.

Be good, because in being good, you instantiate God.