Perhaps...

Of the one thing I'm certain of, certitudes litter the circles of hell.

And with certitude I can say for me, God is not worth killing for.

The closest I can come to a certitude about God is that God is...

I can make suggestions about God: God is good, God is great... God is love, God is the persistence of life on earth, the cosmos, the beating of my heart. I can't say anything about God that doesn't acknowledge the mystery that is life as being ultimately just that, mystery.

Even my knowing God doesn't give me the ability to make an all-defining statement about God. It's like the Justice who said of pornography, "I can't define it, I know it when I see it."

Me too. I know God when I see God... from the top of Taos mountain, or in the ancient forests of Appalachia, in the ancient valleys of Scotland's highlands or the California high desert or an Arizona desert in bloom... or in the hummingbird who has nerve to hover right in my face, eyeball to eyeball, or in the spirals of stars, dust and clouds through the telescope, or in the frenetic vibrating image of sperm penetrating egg and the following explosion of cellular divisions under the microscope... or while at sea, in seeing a sky so deep with stars so to take my breath away, or to see in my beloved's eyes a universe of love so deep as to take my breath away... to have my breath taken away seeing fellow pilgrims approach the table and kneel in humility, just to share in each others' brokenness...

Or know God when I feel God... in the embrace of my almost four year old nephew, in the embrace of anyone who wishes... in my dog as he rests his head on my leg while laying down next to me when I pray, in the broken joy of tossing dirt into the grave of a loved one whose suffering is over and in the tears of knowing it will be a while before we again see each other... and in feeling the presence and memories of the dead... or in the thrill of hearing the hawk's cry... in the warmth of the sun on my face on a clear cold winter's day or in feeling summer's wind whipped ocean spray on my face, or in the soft melding of my beloved's lips in mine, kissing again and again, as we drift off to sleep...

I see and feel God in giving... in giving alms... in seeing others realize God in acts of mercy and giving, just for giving's sake.

All these are signs to me and only a few ways to name God.

With certainty though God is, God is, God is...

Ashes, Ashes

Shelve the "Alleluia".

Lent is returned.

Time to look back and look ahead so to be better seated here in the present, the eternal present. Lent and Advent are my favorite seasons. Granted they're not for everyone, but I'm introspective and introverted by nature, so they suit me and I them.

Plus, I like to wander and wonder so the journey of Lent, through desert and wilderness... and occasionally dried sea beds, also suits me. So on wondering wanderings I will travel, trip and stumble and get up again and keep on walking, all the while soaking in the beauty of it all, the mystery of it all, in self-examinations and reflections on the communities I share.

Where have we been, are we going: what is my, our, intention? Where is the gospel calling me to and where is she the Spirit taking me. Sometimes to the scary place of white-boned self-reality and truth. Yikes, will they again bear new flesh, breath and animation? Spirit always takes us to someplace new, where the laurels of yesterday have faded brown and are tossed upon the fire.

Ashes. Ashes. Ashes we are, ashes we are born of. Ashes of cosmoses past, stars born and died, of ages come and gone on this earth, born and died, all pointing the way to now, this moment, all giving seed to what is now and what is to come. Ashes. Ashes we will be, dusty dust and rusty rust, giving soil to something new, giving seed to something beyond our imaginings and hopes, something alive and enough; alive and enough. Life, wonder and mystery will persist, beyond our wildest aspirations and fears.

The Spirit persists, "No" is not in her vocabulary, for vocabularies are reserved for we who reside a little lower than the angels. She is "Yes". She is "I am". The word of life, the command and covenant for all eternity is the great persistent "Yes", the "I AM", God of Life, God of Love. The God of biology supreme, of geology, chemistry, astronomy and physics, the I AM of existence, perpetually churning forward, life, death, life. Against all odds such is what we are made of: ashes, dust and seed, before us and after us, alive, part and part in the mysterious whole.

God bless the ashes and the life they bring.

Three Line Psalm

Lent came early this year*

not with an imposition of ashes

but with an exposition of tears.

Directions

The poles have slipped

the earth's axis

has tipped to the side

The compass

spins wildly

with no bearings

to read

The gyroscope

tumbles blindly

no direction to see

In this night

on this mountain

there are no stars to be found

as the clouds have gathered

to hide them from my sight

What was north

south

east and west

are now forever gone

I can only

sit through the dark

and wait

wait on the dawn

the sunrise

of the new east

The Willing One

Mary, the willing one.
Willing to bear the child,
willing to bear his death.
Showing us the way,
who now bear the child
into the world.
Mary, who echoed the words
on Sinai, "I am".
Mary invites us to join voice,
the great "I am".
We join her on her journey
to the nascent town,
the least of Judea.
We follow her to the nascent space,
the least of within our hearts,
to the sweet suffering
which comes only from
loving and knowing;
to birth a new child
a new heart;
a new creation.
Blessings to you Mary,
for answering Love's call.



Theotokos icon image from "A Reader's Guide to Orthodox Icons" http://iconreader.wordpress.com/2010/12/10/the-theotokos-of-the-sign-icon/

Entitlements

The question isn't why the poor feel "entitled", as though a living wage is an entitlement. The question is why the powers feel entitled to make the poor suffer for their pleasure.

Poverty

I am left wondering how intentional acts by one person or persons, which causes harm and suffering to others is illegal, unless the weapon is money? And why then is economic bludgeoning only deemed "economics"? What real comfort can I find in the knowledge that "legal" doesn't equate to "right"?

In fact, being legal has no bearing on what is right. Every injustice humans have overcome was once a legal right, and even called "divine rights". Someday we will come to accept the reality that subjecting people to economic harm and suffering is far more devastating than a punch in the face, a kick in the ribs or a boot on the throat.

There is nothing innately wrong with wealth. To the powers I say, after the primary needs of the labor force, and those unable to work have been satisfied to provide equitable levels of income, security and recreation, hoard away as much wealth as you can bear.

To the powers I say also, do not delude yourself into believing you have no culpability in the suffering of the impoverished just because this economic remnant of domination is legal. The suffering you bring upon the masses you would economically subjugate, while legal and to a certain degree remains "acceptable" in your culture of greed, it is indeed ungodly and inhuman, it is the violence of poverty.

There is coming a day, which has begun, when those in your culture will no longer regard poverty as "fate", "laziness", or a "consequence of race or intellect" or "God's will". Poverty is not God's will. Poverty is none of these things.

Poverty is the willful disdain for humanity by a minority of the population over the rest. Poverty is the willful cause and perpetration of suffering over the majority of people by the few.

Poverty is the purveyor and perpetuation of societal, domestic and international violence. Poverty is the intentional absence of justice and this injustice will not stand.

Poverty will one day be understood for exactly what it is, criminal oppression and criminal violence. There will be a day when poverty will no longer be tolerated but will be regarded to be as criminal as slavery.

Poverty is oppression. Poverty is violence. Poverty is a crime which will one day be treated as such.

h a i k u 9

Countless cuts to Me

with salt vinegar salve is

poverty's violence

h a i k u 10

Obsess on nothing

even God, joy is known in

pure simplicity

Blessed

Blessed am I

in the original blessing

kiss and breath

of God's first life

first love

Blessed am I

pierced companion

in union with the one

and creation

Blessed am I

held up by the love of Christ

in family parish and community

love sustaining this

holy

fragile

life

h a i k u 8

Without ceasing is

God born into us, with us

in union with all

h a i k u 7

A place for the head

the sands of orthodoxy

can bury the heart

h a i k u 6

In our history

truly where would the poor be

without the wealthy

h a i k u 5

Shimmering light is

absent without the shadow's

willingness to dance

Kissing Paul

I am perplexed

by this figure cut in rock

the marbled morality

the conservative touchstone

I run my fingers

over the cracks in the stone

and feel a warm breath

escaping the fissures

TAKE A SLEDGEHAMMER TO IT

Liberate the man

from the bondage

of controlling boondoggle

of deified domination

of fearful veneration

Arise Paul

from the tomb

of dusty imaginations

and dirt dry passions

Arise and enter my room

sit stay and talk a while

I am surprised

by Paul's passionate kiss

surprised by the exchange

of breath

and spirit

I had forgotten your doubts and pain

the thorn in your side

the pain of your fragile soul

unable to control your

mysterious urges

What warm body did you confide in

who did you embrace

who did you cling to

in the agony of your humanity

Who kissed you

returning the smile

to your Apostolic face

Who granted you the blessing of fragility

of finding God in our fragility

who reminded you

again in your anger

your despair and sorrow

Who in the body of Christ

touched your body in Christ

Who taught you the mystical kiss

we now share

Who reminded you

that the greatest of all things

is Love

One

Sitting in the dark

on cold brick steps

sitting in the dark

in empty silence

the night breathes

in and out

its trembling breath

Flickering through

the dark green canopy above

is the moon

of the fall

through the leaves

the moon is winking at me

from her empty core of secrets

She is blue white

she is full and hollow

The silence of the night

echos the empty silence

within me

We listen to one another

for whispered awareness

the longing recognition

of sighing persistence

I breathe out

myself into the

moon-cast shadows

In every breath

I pour out countless

molecules of me

Every breath in

is breathing the cosmos into my lungs

and all that exist before it

Every breath in carries the taste of eternity

all that is less than me and more

I am less than dust

awaiting rapturous fulfillment in nothing

into one

Vows

Tomorrow I take vows to cross

thresholds

with my spiritual ancestors

of the desert

and of the old Celtic ways

Pledging myself

silent

heart

mind

body

and spirit

in Jesus Compassionate

To be pierced

in simplicity of service

to be awed

in the simplicity of

God's beauty in

the communion of

humanity and creation

With humility

with fear and trembling

that is living with intention

I come before God

family and community

to declare the communion of us with loving

Father Creator

Brother Healer

Mother Sustainer

and the companions before us

around us

and after us

who happily struggle to realize

Emmanuel within us

Amen

Never Forgetting

The patio of our weekend condo looked east across a lake and cypress trees, I had a beautiful sunrise to share Morning Prayer with.

I prayed for all who lost their lives ten years ago today and their loved ones left to mourn them.

I prayed for them all, victims of "powers and principalities".

I prayed that we all answer God's call to mercy, forgiveness and compassion.

I prayed for the courage to live out God's kingdom in my daily living.

I will never forget.

I will never forget God's compassion.

Compassionate love, love and kindness, is joy to the heart of God.

Praying for those who despise you is a song in God's heart.

Sing then!

Sing a joyful song!

Of all the things we can do, mercy and charity will bring us quicker into the heart of God.