Soar away

July 27, 2013 / / 2 comments

Cades Cove Primitive Baptist Church
Photo credit: J.Stephen Conn

 

I want a sober mind,
An all sustaining eye,
To see my God above,
And to the heavens fly.

I’d soar away above the sky,
I’d fly to see my God above.

I want a Godly fear,
A quick discerning eye,
That looks to Thee my God,
And see the tempter fly.

Tune: A. Marcus Cagle, 1935
Words: Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1814

 

A perfect marriage of text and tune: the stern austerity of the lines about sobriety and Godly fear breaks into an ecstatic fugue as the singer soars upward to see God.  A hymn about vision and transport.

 

Category: Baptist, beatific vision, hymns, mountains, worship / Tags: , , ,

Torment and mercy

July 25, 2013 / / 4 comments

The Gerasene demoniac
from the Madeburg Ivories
Milan, 10th century

 

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Ger′asenes. And when he had come out of the boat, there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit, who lived among the tombs; and no one could bind him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been bound with fetters and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the fetters he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out, and bruising himself with stones.  And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and worshiped him; and crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.”  For he had said to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!”  And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.” And he begged him eagerly not to send them out of the country.  Now a great herd of swine was feeding there on the hillside;  and they begged him, “Send us to the swine, let us enter them.” So he gave them leave. And the unclean spirits came out, and entered the swine; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.

The herdsmen fled, and told it in the city and in the country. And people came to see what it was that had happened. And they came to Jesus, and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the man who had had the legion; and they were afraid.  And those who had seen it told what had happened to the demoniac and to the swine.  And they began to beg Jesus to depart from their neighborhood. And as he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him.  But he refused, and said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decap′olis how much Jesus had done for him; and all men marveled.

–Mark 5:1-20

This morning I read again the story of the Gerasene Demoniac and thought, as I often do, about the pigs. I pity those pigs. They never knew what hit them, but it was so terrible and so terrifying that they rushed into the sea to make it stop.

Why would Jesus do that to pigs? Why not just cast out the demons? Was it a trick? A way to destroy the unclean spirits at the expense of the swine? It’s an unsettling idea—so much collateral damage—and so this morning I pondered the demons and the swine.

“I adjure you by God, do not torment me” …And he begged him eagerly not to send them out of the country.

It’s difficult to read about a demoniac and unclean spirits without an overlay of modern medical thinking, but if I stay within the context of the story, then I ask myself, what would torment a spirit? Why do they beg to enter the swine? Do they fear disembodiment? Could it be that unclean spirits seek a home of sorts? Is this why the story takes place among graves?

I thought about all the ghost stories in human cultures; about spirits in torment; I thought about the Dead Men of Dunharrow from The Lord of the Rings–another fearsome Legion.  And it seemed to me that permitting the unclean spirits to enter the unclean animals was appropriate. And that death in this case might be a sort of mercy, a laying to rest, a burial in the bodies of creatures that I knew were raised to be killed.

There is much violence and fear in this story. The cost of this healing is high. But in the end, the man who lived among the tombs is returned to life with his friends (does he still have friends?) and the legion who filled him are buried at last. Perhaps in this way the lives of the pigs are not wasted, but are accepted as a sort of sacrifice. I don’t know, but I wonder.

 

“Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.”…and all men marveled.

 

 

Category: healing, Jesus, miracles /

Who made thee?

July 16, 2013 / / 2 comments


      The Lamb

 by William Blake

Little Lamb who made thee?
         Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
         Little Lamb who made thee
         Dost thou know who made thee

 

         Little Lamb I’ll tell thee,
         Little Lamb I’ll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
         Little Lamb God bless thee.
         Little Lamb God bless thee.

 
I saw this statue outside an empty house set back in the woods away from the road. It seemed an unlikely setting for a lamb: why? Given a lamb and a question, Blake’s poem immediately came to mind.

Category: poetry / Tags: , ,

Hands and feet: St. Jerome and the Lion

June 29, 2013 / / 3 comments

 

On a day towards even Jerome sat with his brethren for to hear the holy lesson, and a lion came halting suddenly in to the monastery, and when the brethren saw him, anon they fled, and Jerome came against him as he should come against his guest, and then the lion showed to him his foot being hurt. Then he called his brethren, and commanded them to wash his feet and diligently to seek and search for the wound. And that done, the plant of the foot of the lion was sore hurt and pricked with a thorn. Then this holy man put thereto diligent cure, and healed him, and he abode ever after as a tame beast with them.

From “The Golden Legend ,” by Jacobus de Voragine, a medieval compilation of stories about the saints

 

On a recent trip to Madrid I was captivated by this painting of St. Jerome and the Lion in the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza. Usually the lion appears as an attribute of Jerome based on a story found in the medieval bestseller, The Golden Legend. Here the lion is more than an identifier, and the saint’s relationship with the creature is the focus of the composition.

I love the artist’s gentle juxtaposition of hands and paw, expressing kindness, affection, and blessing. And I love the lion’s face, looking out into the distance as if in contemplation, with just the hint of a smile. It’s as if we are witnessing a moment of understanding between a man and his animal companion.

 

The story of the Jerome and the lion is interesting and multifaceted. It begins like the tale of Androcles and the lion as an example of charity overcoming fear and of kindness repaid. In this version, however, the lion is referred to as a “guest” (and thus a recipient of hospitality) who then becomes a sort of brother in the monastic community. The lion is given responsibilities reflecting his new nature and according to his abilities–he is to tend and guard the monastery donkey. When the animal is stolen while his guardian sleeps, the lion is falsely accused of having eaten it, which is to say, of not having a true conversion and yielding to the sin of gluttony. The lion is punished and shamed by being forced to take on the work of the ass, and the author notes, “he suffered it peaceably.”

Thankfully the story has a happy ending. Eventually the lion finds the stolen ass, brings it back, and is forgiven.

And then the lion began to run joyously throughout all the monastery, as he was wont to do, and kneeled down to every brother and fawned them with his tail, like as he had demanded pardon of the trespass that he had done.

How curious and fitting that the lion’s nature makes him both run joyously and demand pardon!  And because of the lion’s righteous ferocity, the thieves also come before Jerome to ask pardon. The saint does not take all their valuable oil, though they offer it as penance, but tells them to “take their own good, and not to take away other men’s,” and so debts are paid, sin is forgiven, and community is restored.

Which bring us back to the painting–so different from the many other pictures of St. Jerome–a painting about more than the holiness of a saint. A painting about a saint and a lion. Surely it is no accident that hands and paw should tell this tale and bring to mind those virtues of hospitality, humility, and forgiveness present in other stories we know so well: the washing of feet, the suffering of shame, the blessings of community.

Category: art, community, forgiveness, saints, sin / Tags: , , ,

i thank You God for most this amazing

June 23, 2013 / / Comments Off on i thank You God for most this amazing

by e. e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

 

 

 

We shared this poem at my mother’s memorial service, along with God’s Grandeur.

…ah! bright wings

Category: gratitude, poetry / Tags:

The burning day

June 19, 2013 / / One comment

 

 

Redeemed souls your voices raise,
and sing His wonders o’er.
In songs of everlasting praise the great I AM adore.
To time and sense we’ll bid adieu,
Earth’s glories we’ll despise,
Eternal treasure we’ll pursue
that everlasting prize.
How fading are all earthly things,
like shadows flee away!
The cross substantial treasure brings,
that never will decay.

Ye joyful mountains skip like rams while Edom melts away.
And all the little hills like lambs
shall clap their hands and play!
Join in their song, ye joyful souls,
for this great burning day!
By love we’re known in heav’n above,
love bears our song away.

Redeemed souls your voices raise,
and sing His wonders o’er.
In songs of everlasting praise
the great I AM adore.
On cherub’s wings your flight begins
to leave this dark abode.
The cross will save us all from sin
and bring us home to God.

 
Text and tune: Elder John Lockwood
Sodus, New York, 1835.

A snippet of Kevin Siegfried’s arrangement

Category: music / Tags:

Postcard from England

June 1, 2013 / / Comments Off on Postcard from England

Scissor Arches at Wells Cathedral

 

A few pictures for all the traveling folks. One of the most wonderful places I have ever been, and a postcard I picked up once on my own travels.  If you’d like to hear the Wells Cathedral Choir sing, click here.  The peace of the Lord be always with you.

 

Category: Church, humor /

Truths in unexpected places

May 30, 2013 / / Comments Off on Truths in unexpected places

True of humanity and true of the Church:

 

“The only way really to understand your position and its worth is to understand the opposite.

That doesn’t mean the crazy guy on the radio who is spewing hate, it means the decent human truths of all the people who feel the need to listen to that guy. You are connected to those people. They’re connected to him. You can’t get away from it. This connection is part of contradiction. It is the tension I was talking about. This tension isn’t about two opposite points, it’s about the line in between them, and it’s being stretched by them. We need to acknowledge and honor that tension, and the connection that that tension is a part of. Our connection not just to the people we love, but to everybody, including people we can’t stand and wish weren’t around. The connection we have is part of what defines us on such a basic level.”

–from Joss Whedon’s 2013 commencement address at Wesleyan University

 

Category: diversity, Holy Spirit /

Travel Mercies

May 29, 2013 / / Comments Off on Travel Mercies

Lots of folks are traveling this time of year, myself included, and so we are mindful of our need for travel mercies: protecting grace, sustaining grace, guiding grace, in the in-between places.

I do not know what you need. I doubt I know what I need myself.  Whatever your journey, literal or metaphorical, God bless you on your way.

 

“It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools – friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty – and said ‘do the best you can with these, they will have to do’. And mostly, against all odds, they do.”

–Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.

 

God be with thee in every pass,
Jesus be with thee on every hill,
Spirit be with thee on every stream,
Headland and ridge and lawn;

Each sea and land, each moor and meadow,
Each lying down, each rising up,
In the trough of the waves, on the crest of the billows,
Each step of the journey thou goest.

 

Carmina Gadelica III, 195
From Esther de Waal, editor, The Celtic Vision (Liguori, MO: Liguori/Triumph, 1988, 2001).

Thanks to Dan Clandenin at Journey with Jesus.

 

Category: faith, mercy, prayer, travel /

Thoughts on Trinity Sunday

May 26, 2013 / / One comment

Holy Trinity, St. Denis, Paris

 

If your experience is anything like mine, there’s a pretty good chance that at some point in the sermon on Trinity Sunday you will hear the minister proclaim what a difficult concept the Trinity is. On this Sunday we may hear again how St. Patrick used the three-leaved shamrock to explain the idea to the people of Ireland, or we may consider the image of the egg (shell, white, and yolk), or perhaps, if our brains are to be stretched a bit, we’ll hear how in Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis used our understanding of the dimensions of space to explain this mystery. I suppose it’s a tough Sunday for preachers, but sometimes I wonder if we don’t back away from the idea of the Trinity more than we need to.

The Trinity is a Mystery, one of many holy mysteries, and why we should find it more difficult to comprehend than any of the other mysteries is beyond me.  Perhaps our difficulty comes when we try to turn that mystery into an explanation, or perhaps we overestimate our grasp of the other paradoxes of faith. Honestly, given our admittedly imperfect understanding of concrete phenomena such as the atom and the human brain, I don’t know why we should imagine that it would be any easier to comprehend the nature of God.  But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t think about it. Try to learn more.

At this point in my life, I have come to believe that the Trinity is a revelation about the nature of God and the universe. I don’t know how it works, but I sense that it is and that it is true. And what the Trinity reveals to me is relationship.

Our God does not even exist without being in relationship–it is his essence–it is his truth. And the essence of that relationship is unity and love.  The truth of the world is also relationship, and the work of the world is reconciliation.  Like God, we humans are always in relationship. We are born into families.  Our meta-cognition is as good as a friend: that voice inside our heads, the way we watch ourselves. And all our sense-making–all the meaning we derive out of our time in this world–is at its foundation an exploration of the connections between things. Even our mirror neurons (which fire both when we do a thing and when we see it done) connect us to the world and the people we share it with.  This is our nature, this is what we do.

Sadly, our relationships are not so unified as the Trinity, nor are they always grounded in love. We perceive our separation as often as we know our oneness.  Even the Body suffers.

But that’s the story, isn’t it?  The Fall, Salvation…we know where we are and what we have to do and what we cannot do on our own. I was struck this morning by this passage from Ephesians 4:

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every joint with which it is supplied, when each part is working properly, makes bodily growth and upbuilds itself in love.

 

It’s always the joints that give us trouble: achy, inflexible joints. As the years pass, I understand this more and more too.

 

Trinity icon, Andrei Rubileve, 15th century

 

Category: theology, Trinity /
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