bright darkness: harts' desire

"like as the hart desireth the water-brooks;
so longeth my soul after thee, o god."


on either side, dark walls of black pine;
below, night-black asphalt;
above, only the slight light of the seven stars.

in this dark, i walk,
my feet finding sometimes the path,
sometimes the road verge.

this is not the valley of the shadow of death,
but i do think of the people who walk in darkness.

one black pine wall flattens,
becomes a black grass field,
where flame forth black deer,
undulent as fire-tingues, running.

they, seven, perhaps sisters to match the pleides,
(perhaps seven dark flames of the spirit)
cross my path, invisible
but hoof-heard on the hard road.
in the black pine wall,
they stop and pant.

"o send out thy light and this truth, that they may lead me,
and bring me unto thy holy hill, and to thy dwelling."

i stop and hear, unseeing,
and turn to climb to the ridge-top, up.
the wall opens:
orion and faithful sirius
lead me to the tent.

godless capitalism

"the fool hath said in his heart, there is no god."

i am certified by the standards of the world not to be a fool. by that i mean that my "i.q." has been measured to be about 150. yet again and again i find that i hold convictions that are commonly called foolish by popular contemporary wisdom: the virgin birth; the resurrection of the body; the ascension; pentecost. all of these things are wisely rationalized away by any number of best-selling books by people who claim to be making "christianity" "relevant."

it is popular these days to remember forgotten stresses or abuses from childhood at the hands of one's parents. as far as i can remember about my parents, i was a desired and cherished child. but i do remember that i was stessed and abused by the government of my country. i grew up in the "duck and cover" period of american history, when we were told of the daily dangers of "godless communism." even my father, who was a self-professed taoist, came to visit me early one morning at my college because he had seen on the news the night before a communist speaking at my school.

but as i have grown older, i realize that the danger was never from godless communism. i never quite found that theory believable anyway, because so few things the government was telling seemed believable, but i realize more and more the danger from godless capitalism.

but perhaps i am too harsh on capitalism. this state religion does seem to have a god, the god of the bang: the big bang which has replaced creation; the sacrilegious bangs of the trinity project: alamagordo and hiroshima and nagasaki; the bang-for-the-buck that measures all things.

i sat this week in a coffee shop and wept. i heard of the newest war-idol of the empire, a tank with a specially-shaped bottom to resist the bombs that had toppled the previous idol, the british challenger. the cost was expected to be $81 million each.

i confess i am less-than-thrilled that one of the projects best-supported by american main-line churches has been the millenium development goals. but even that lame project, to which my little parrish in eureka springs magnanimously donated the proceeds of our yard sale in our generous efforts towards sharing .07% of our income with starving children, would be a far better way to spend eighty-one million dollars than for another machine whose sole purpose is the destruction of human life and homes.

it is not that capitalism has no gods. it merely considers the living god no longer to be necessary for its purposes, and is convinced it can created any god it does need.

the third mystery of the theophany: stone jars

"and the third day there was a marriage
in cana of galilee"

perhaps a tuesday wedding, a wedding day
of grass and herb and fruit tree;
perhaps the third day after john bare record
"this is the son of god."

"and there were set there six water pots of stone,
after the manner of the purifying of the jews."

how heavy, how hard, how permanent.
the holy one gave moses the law on tablets of stone,
harder to misplace, one might think, than a
scrap of paper with the thought for the day, one
of god's 365 promised blessings,
or the marriage certificate from our first wedding.

moses made a box,
put the tablets inside,
covered the thing with gold,
"overlaid it with pure gold,
within and without,
and made a crown of gold to it
round about."

but they lost it. misplaced it
somewhere.
box, tablets, rings, chittim wood staves,
the law.

no one knew quite where.
no one would have looked in cana, in galilee.

"and the third day, there was a marriage
in cana of galilee."

sometimes, we pray, "if it be thy will," upon marriages
may be bestowed "the gift and heritage of children."

you can see the mill stone coming.
might we, might i,
offend one of these little ones?
might we, might i, become little ones?

"and there were set there six water pots of stone,
after the manner of the purifying of the jews."

best we remain among the jars,
not filling them full,
lest the new wine burst
our old stone skins.

"and there were set there six water pots of stone,
after the manner of the purifying of the jews,
containing two or three firkins apiece."

all these firkins of water:
will they not wash us clean?

and how many firkins make water enough
to comprehend my millstone and my offenses?

17 january: st. anthony of the desert with snow

with what carl jung calls synchronicity, i have been reading j. philip newell's listening to the heartbeat of god these days between the commemorations of sts. paul of thebes and anthony of the desert.

anthony was noted for not having any books in his hermitage. most of the monks at least had a psalter, with the gospels a close second choice. anthony most probably knew the psalms by heart, but when he was asked about the lack of scrolls on his window sill, he said simply that for one who has eyes the holy one is revealed in all his creation.

newell's book explores this theme in celtic spirituality, tracing its birth in the traditional understandings of the celts, its suppression under the augustinianism of the roman mission in britain beginning in the seventh century, and re-emerging in the last several centuries, even within the calvinistic church of scotland, especially under the influence of george macleod.

and so it was with great if cold joy that i looked out of my little hut this morning on the snow, calling to mind psalm 148:

Praise the Lord, for it is a good thing to sing praises unto our God *
yea, a joyful and pleasant thing it is to be thankful.
The Lord doth build up Jerusalem *
and gather together the out-casts of Israel.
He healeth those that are broken in heart *
and giveth medicine to heal their sickness.
He telleth the number of the stars *
and calleth them all by their names.
Great is our Lord, and great is his power *
yea, and his wisdom is infinite.
The Lord setteth up the meek *
and bringeth the ungodly down to the ground.
O sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving *
sing praises upon the harp unto our God;
Who covereth the heaven with clouds, and prepareth rain for the earth *
and maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains, and herb for the use of men;
Who giveth fodder unto the cattle *
and feedeth the young ravens that call upon him.
He hath no pleasure in the strength of an horse *
neither delighteth he in any man’s legs.
But the Lord’s delight is in them that fear him *
and put their trust in his mercy.
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem *
praise thy God, O Sion.
For he hath made fast the bars of thy gates *
and hath blessed thy children within thee.
He maketh peace in thy borders *
and filleth thee with the flour of wheat.
He sendeth forth his commandment upon earth *
and his word runneth very swiftly.
He giveth snow like wool *
and scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes.
He casteth forth his ice like morsels *
who is able to abide his frost?
He sendeth out his word, and melteth them *
he bloweth with his wind, and the waters flow.

15 january: commemoration of paul of thebes

morning had broken, like the first morning.
black bird had spoken, like the first bird.
i had slept late,
knowing there was raisin bread for breakfast.

i had gone to fayetteville yesterday, a trip fascinating in many ways as i met new people, but i had not netted much in trade for some books i had taken: gregory of nyssa's life of moses, and $2.65.

i am in one of "those" periods when i feel as if all that stand between the present disastrous condition of the world and universal salvation are the little groups of books that line the walls of my hut--a reminder that i haven't quite "sold everything." at the same time, excited that my two favourites books were favorites of the great monastic saints of the middle ages and earlier--the psalter and the song of songs, i have even ordered another translation and commentary on the psalms, as if some other part of beautus vir qui non abiit would spring to life in me if i just read robert alter's translation.

so: would the world be a better place if i sold all my books and gave the slightly more than $2.65 to the poor, or maybe all but five or six, just little ones? i won't know, of course, unless i try. but i do know how close the holy one seemed the years i was in a kayak on puget sound with only one book. my friend cassidy has suggested the inside passage some summer. this may be the message i need, perhaps not for universal salvation but for my personal salvation.

come sunday/with cold & blue jays

sunday came, cold and luminous;
first after the epiphany, jesus' baptism:
i remember jesus coming "straightway out of the water,"
back bare, brown, and luminous.
o ye frost and cold, bless ye the lord:
praise him and magnify him for ever.
o ye seas and floods, bless ye the lord:
praise him and magnify him for ever.

i am walking, after the epiphany,
after the great thanksgiving,
hoping. i am hoping to see the holy,
a bush burning in cold lord's day light.
o ye children of men, bless ye the lord:
praise him and magnify him for ever.
o all ye green things upon the earth, bless ye the lord,
praise him and magnify him for ever.

in the barren bush, blue jays, plump,
turned round white feathered bellies towards me,
white as baptismal gowns, fruit but for
their legs, not twig brown but black.
o ye fowls of the air, bless ye the lord:
praise him and magnify him for ever.
o ye servants of the lord, bless ye the lord:
praise him and magnify him for ever.

let us bless the lord, father, son and holy ghost:
praise him and magnify him for ever.

christmas: where was it?

i am missing it. sunday evening was warm and clear and i walked around a long time on my way back to the little hut from st. james' din-din--every sunday evening there is a free meal for whomever, very good, sort of my replacement of soup tuesdays except that john and bob make the soup and gloria makes some pasta wonder--and luxuriated in the christmas stars. now comes the hard work of showing forth that light in my life.

tonight i start a six-weeks excursion in christology with the wesleyan quadralateral at the methodist church. i am using as a sort of theme the introduction to john's first epistle:

"That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life;
(For the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and shew unto you that eternal life, which was with the Father, and was manifested unto us;)
That which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.
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."

and as our prayer the old prayer book's collect for the second sunday after christmas:

"ALMIGHTY God, who hast poured upon us the new light of thine incarnate Word; Grant that the same light enkindled in our hearts may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

now that the malls have stopped proclaiming the santa claus season and the light posts of our town are no longer pouring forth the message to buy-buy-buy, it is time for us who call ourselves after the name of the new-born king to explain "what child was this."

fleeting christmas

already it's the eleventh day. a friend mentioned that she only just now noticed how many of the "christmas decorations" around here are snowmen or some such, which have nothing to do with what we say we're celebrating, that her old and nearly worn-out peace banner is more what we should use to greet the coming of the prince of peace. and this morning i read the 65th chapter of isaiah, that wonderful passage

For I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.
18But be glad and rejoice for ever
in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.
19I will rejoice in Jerusalem,
and delight in my people;
no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,
or the cry of distress.
20No more shall there be in it
an infant that lives but a few days,
or an old person who does not live out a lifetime;
for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,
and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
21They shall build houses and inhabit them;
they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
22They shall not build and another inhabit;
they shall not plant and another eat;
for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,
and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
23They shall not labour in vain,
or bear children for calamity;*
for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—
and their descendants as well.
24Before they call I will answer,
while they are yet speaking I will hear.
25The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,
the lion shall eat straw like the ox;
but the serpent—its food shall be dust!
They shall not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain,
says the Lord.

i read this and think about the fighting among the priestly clean-up crew in bethlehem at the church of the nativity and wonder if we should all becomes muslims.

saints of winter

i have often fantasized about living in one of the little stone beehive huts off the coast of scotland, or in a daub and wattle hermitage in ireland. i appreciate my little scrapwood and plastic hut in the ozarks, right on the edge of the 100 aker wood, but it isn't likely to yield any interesting archaeological residues after even five years, much less a thousand.

yet, it is cold enough here, and not only a little wet, so that when i think of what life must have really been like for the irish saints who recited the psalter whilst standing up to their necks in a cold stream, i am both happy and grateful to be where i am, chanting the psalms in coziness, with few chinks for the wind to find.

but of course as soon as i had typed "chinks for the wind to find" i heard what an ambiguous phrase that is. reading the first letter of john in the daily office this crystalclear morning, i was struck by this sentence: "and hereby we know that he abides in us, by the spirit which he has given us." (3:24b) and i think how often this first gift, this ultimate gift, this gift which marks those who are in christ's new creation remains unopened, for this is also the gift which requires us to "love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action." so often we seem to find it easier to reject the gift.

therefore i find great comfort in the wonderful lists of winter saints, beginning with thomas on the solstice, including stephen the protomartyr and the holy innocents, and going on to encompass basil and seraphim of savlov and gregory of nyssa and paul of thebes and anthony of alexandra and mark of ephesus and maximus the confessor and xenia of petersburg and john chrysostom and isaac of syria, all of whom lived lives which embodied love not [only] in word or speech,"--certainly the words of john chrysostom and isaac of syria and gregory of nyssa are as powerful encouragements for love as we can find--but also "in truth and action," even in action which this world finds bizarre or incomprehensible, as it does xenia of petersburg and paul of thebes.

and yet. yet this morning the sun rose brilliantly, a minute or so earlier than yesterday, and it shone in the darkness, even though the darkness could not comprehend it.