from steve's book of hours

I opened our book of hours to read this morning, this dawn before the anniversary dawn and found these words in steve's handwriting, and these phrases underlined.

"Whom have i in heaven but you?  and having you I desire nothing on earth."

I remember this prayer. writes Steve.


And then the prayer is marked:  "Pour your grace into my heart, O Lord, that I who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus Christ, announced by an angel to the  Virgin Mary, may by his cross and passion be brought to the glory of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

a poem by Lynn Ungar

Picking Blackberries

What will you give for a taste
of summer's last sweetness?
This jewelled crown of thorns
rings every path and highway,

No use pretending  you
have not heard sweet tempatation
chatter through the vines - -
taste, eat

Put your hand in the thorns
and come out dripping juice,
king's purple spread from
hand to tongue.

Reach gently,
or you will find your thumb
full of thorns, and your pail
filled with unbearable tartness.

Reach gently, but reach
The sweetest berries hide
toward the inside, hidden
beneath leaves barbed like critics.

Balance, if you must, precariously,
held by will and longing form
the net of thorns.  If you want
the ripest fruit, relinquish safety.

Guard yourself only with these words:
Peril, abundance
whispered like a prayer
through purple lips.

calm distress

Many of my friends and most of my children lean towards  agnosticism much of the time.  I too have my moments of detachment from the idea of God or invisible things.  When i would rush to Steve with the latest surge of familial questioning he would simply answer, 'It's all true, Melanie, it really is.'  I knew it was for me, but Steve had the particular capacity of believing it for others too.  Maybe that is what a pastor really is, really does.

My good friend sent me this hymn this morning.
Another one for us to live by:

If death my friend and me divide,
Thou dost not, Lord, my sorrow chide,
Or frown my tears to see;
Restrained from passionate excess,
Thou bidst me mourn in calm distress
For them that rest in Thee.

I feel a strong immortal hope,
Which bears my mournful spirit up
Beneath its mountain load;
Redeemed from death, and grief, and pain,
I soon shall find my friend again
Within the arms of God.

Pass a few fleeting moments more
And death the blessing shall restore
Which death has snatched away;
For me Thou wilt the summons send,
And give me back my parted friend
In that eternal day. 



charles wesley

my mother always says....

that your children start where you end.  I already see how true this is, how much more my children are than I am, but containing seeds of things i had hoped I would be in them.  It is a huge relief.  A sense of rest follows when you see that your children can write accomplished research papers, travel the world and make meaningful friendships, endure hardship with grace and wisdom, be open to others in true relationship.

I remember when Josh and AbbyWesterhold came over on a Sunday afternoon,  early in the knowledge of cancer time.  When we crawled into bed that night after their visit Steve was just so full and animated.  He said what a relief it was that they were doing what they were doing - that a part of him could rest because Josh would be giving his life for urban renewal, which was such a huge passion of Steve's.  I later imagined how that is true of all of his closest friends, doing work or making music or caring for others in ways that Steve would if he was in their place.  I imagine his delight in hearing about it all.

Do not all of us who he loved bear seeds of ideas he loved inside of us?

Margaret has just returned from Italy, after three months away.  Mary danced last weekend, bearing a wounded toe without a hint of complaint or evidence.  Madeleine graduated from college yesterday in a picture perfect atmosphere of small college elegance.  Now we enter the week of remembering.  Loving Steve and bearing his absence is the work of every day.  He is the unseen absence that is larger than any of our presences.  But there is something mysterious in seeing the children express him in their particular loves, sadnesses, and passions.  I imagine him now, how he would be experiencing the children and their red letter moments.  And my own sense of all these things is expanded.

an observation

Men go to anger to disguise their grief.

And if you will bear it,

you will get under it,

and hear the grieving. 

(a thought found in a document....) 

nourished hope

Madeleine is graduating from college this month.

I attended an honors event for her this week - the kind of event that can be scripted, predictable and attending it can seem obligatory.  But the choir sang one piece - Donne's Twin Compasses - a signature poem in our family's reserve,
and the event became gilded and was comforting.


A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne

AS virtuous men pass mildly away, 
    And whisper to their souls to go, 
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
    "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."                     

So let us melt, and make no noise,                                       5
    No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys 
    To tell the laity our love. 

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
    Men reckon what it did, and meant ;                              10
But trepidation of the spheres, 
    Though greater far, is innocent. 

Dull sublunary lovers' love 
    —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit 
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove                                     15
    The thing which elemented it. 

But we by a love so much refined,
    That ourselves know not what it is, 
Inter-assurèd of the mind, 
    Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.                           20

Our two souls therefore, which are one, 
    Though I must go, endure not yet 
A breach, but an expansion, 
    Like gold to aery thinness beat. 

If they be two, they are two so                                          25
    As stiff twin compasses are two ; 
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show 
    To move, but doth, if th' other do. 

And though it in the centre sit, 
    Yet, when the other far doth roam,                                30
It leans, and hearkens after it, 
    And grows erect, as that comes home. 

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
    Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,                                    35
    And makes me end where I begun. 
 

Psalm 2 and 3 (from the archives...)

2-3

One writer said that “Jesus moves from room to odious room in my heart”, and in the piercing light of his presence, he reveals what is there.  All of my secret intentions and dark dreams.  Psalm 2 provides the counter picture to the orientation of Psalm 1.  The words expose me.  They reveal how little like a tree, how unlike Mary, I really am.  Psalm 2 illustrates why I am in my own dark night.  “Nothing can be hidden from God.”

There was a short-lived T.V. show that came out last year…I think it made all of one episode before it vanished…called The Book of Daniel.  I didn’t know that there was controversy until after I saw this pilot episode.  The news that night interviewed local pastors about the show and they were pretty critical of the themes. 

It was a drama which followed the day in/day out life of an Episcopal Priest.  In the first episode you got a sense that the show would be dealing with the various struggles that people have, and I think religious types were pretty outraged by the type of “issues” they were going to take on.  This included hints of substance abuse by the priest (which may be a shock to you, but sure isn’t to me).  But all in all, those topics, though raw, are true to life and so that didn’t bother me.

What got to me was the fact that Jesus was one of the characters in the show.  He kept popping up to give advice to Daniel.  It was that portrayal that bugged me.  He was written in as the “Buddy Jesus” (see the movie Dogma?), sort of a non-invasive hippy type.

So, here was my question.  If I were a writer for that show, how would I write him in?  How would you?  How would we portray Jesus as he enters into the daily life and struggles of ordinary people (pastors included)?

And that’s how we come to Psalm 2.  It’s a Psalm that makes us think about the way we think about God.  What if he isn’t what we think he is?  What if, in reading and hearing the words of these ancient songs, we find that he is more immense and unpredictable than we thought?  And what if he, maybe, just maybe, is kinder than we imagined?

I have this laptop computer.  Computers are very popular these days, you know.  And a lot of times I will have one program running (I only use about three) on the screen, but I can always hear the hard-drive spinning.  And what I’ve discovered (which my children figured out a long time ago) is that even if I can only see one thing operating on the screen, all sorts of things are running in the background.  I can hear it going on, but don’t really know what it is.

Thinking about God is theological, for lack of a better word.  We said that the Psalms offer an invitation to give the deepest parts of yourself to God.  Well, we all have a “theology” running in those deep places- thoughts about God and what he’s doing, what he is like.  And that deeper theology probably differs from the one you articulate- what you put up on the screen.  You have a day time set of beliefs, and these are probably the ones you talk about.  But you also have a midnight theology.  These are the truer, more honest thoughts, fears and questions you have about God when you can’t sleep in the middle of the night.  These beliefs effect you more as they run in the background of your being.

My theological tradition (Reformed and Presbyterian) is known for preaching a big God, a sovereign God.  But I have found that we, as a whole, tend to live in a very controlled (and I would say fearful) way.  Our fear may say more about us than what we preach. 

I think this Psalm is dredging those deeper beliefs out, at least asking us to see and acknowledge that they are there and running in the background of our heart and mind.  Listen to how God reveals himself here.

This is what they call a “Messiah Psalm”- a Psalm about Israel’s king, or “anointed one”.  While these Psalms, in time, are taken up and quoted by Jesus, “the son” mentioned in Psalm 2 is probably King David.  The Psalm brings out a surprising theme in the Old Testament.  God would set up his king in a little backwater country, and then call all global powers to come and pay homage to him.  That’s what “kiss the son” really means.  “Bow before him, pay homage, be loyal to him”.  And I’m sure, when this was first read aloud, those who heard it would have had a good laugh.  “You’ve got to be kidding”.  This song would have been passed around as a big joke in global politics.  It’s like the king of Barundi asking the President of the United States to come kiss his ring.  Not gonna happen.  But this is God’s way from Moses to Jesus. 

This let’s us know that a “you’ve got to be kidding” response to hearing these words probably means you’re on to it.  That God is speaking and present.  At first, God’s words often sound ridiculous.

Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?  The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his anointed, saying,  “Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.”

“Burst their bonds…”?  This reminds me of Adam and Eve.  I think that somehow, amidst all the abundance and wonder of the garden, that they came to believe that God was holding out on them. His words were a constraint, limiting their life. And all they began to think of was how to get free of God’s ever-present observation and tyranny.  “I don’t care if you are the Maker of heaven and earth!  Quit looking over my shoulder!” 

This is what the nations are doing.  They are plotting ways to keep the cords and constraints of God off.  So they are using all their power and resources against God and his king.

The very word used for our receptive posture in Psalm 1, “meditate”, is used again in Psalm 2, but to describe an anti-posture:  “plot”.  Scheming, controlling, conniving, grasping, hoarding.   This is the interior posture running at the heart of things.  The center of your being is either given to a loyal listening and receiving of God and his word (“meditate”), or that same energy is used to “plot” against him, to rival him.  Most likely, it oscillates between the two.  All power is grabbed and used against God and his anointed.  This really is about what is going on in the deepest parts of our being.

 “Why do the…peoples plot in vain?.... Setting themselves against the Lord and against his anointed.”  That’s what is going on at the soul of things.  At the level of global politics and at a personal level (in me).  Psalm 2 is saying that it is as if the whole world is set against God.  There is rivalry with God at the heart of every nation, and there is rivalry with God at the heart of every man and woman.  Doesn’t Christianity seem like a joke sometimes in the middle of all this power and hostility?  “This is the way?  You’ve got to be kidding me.”

As you enter God’s way, you will encounter an ocean of opposition to God.  In your city, in your house, and in your own heart.

“The one who sits in heaven laughs (scoffs)”.  This is where the Psalm turns.  “Hey!  Nations!  Rage away!  The jokes on you.” 

In the town I used to live in there is a man named Bill Kazmire.  For several years in a row he won the “Strongest Man in the World” contest.  Maybe you’ve seen this on television.  They have events like “car tossing” and “telephone pole juggling”.  Kaz is immense.  He isn’t just strong.  He is strength.  He is power.

I was lifting weights with him once (o.k., well I was working out in the gym he owns and one time he was in the building while I was there.)  I saw him across the room with his son.  This seven or eight year old boy was taking Kaz by the arm and dragging him across the room.  I laughed to myself because it’s obvious:  Kaz doesn’t go where Kaz doesn’t want to go. 

So you hear the nations raging and you hear them plotting.  And God chuckles. It’s clear that we aren’t to confuse the patience of God or the willingness of God with apathy or weakness.  God doesn’t go where he doesn’t want to go.  He doesn’t allow what he doesn’t want to allow, what he doesn’t have purposes for.  What we see isn’t always what is really going on.

In one of the Narnia books (I can’t remember which one), things are going bad.  Aslan, the Lion-king, has not been on the scene for a really long time and so certain creatures are setting themselves up to run the place in his absence.  One of the bad guys in the story (I think it’s a gorilla), finds an old dead carcass of a lion in the river.  He drapes the mangy old pelt over his friend, a little donkey (crazy stories), and then he tells everyone “this is Aslan!”.  He sets this little donkey in disguise up as a rival to the true king. 

The rulers of the global powers call themselves “emperor”, and even “divine”.  But God just laughs.  They are fake kings.  They are a mockery.  They are the joke.

Ask of me (and all the messiah has to do is ask), and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession.  You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.

These verses make the point.  Aslan may at times be out of sight.  And he may, at times, chose not to roar.  But when he does…

The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars; the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon. He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf, and Sirion like a young wild ox. The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness; the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh. The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry, “Glory!” (Psalm 29)

God may choose to be silent.  But when he speaks mountains melt like wax.  Trees are stripped bare.  Our insides turn to water, and all we can do is pay homage.  “Glory!” 

No rivals!  Kiss the son.  Don’t confuse his silence for an inability to roar. 

I think there is a connection between Psalms 2 and 3.  The traditional inscription with the third psalm says that David wrote it when he was running for his life during a coup staged by his son, Absalom.  David was tasting personally, as God’s king, the plotting and rivalry of Psalm 2.   He was feeling the terrible weight of this animosity.  Everyone and everything is against him.

What leaps off the page to me are these words, “I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.  I will not be afraid…”  This is what seems so elusive to me.  How can he sleep?  Why isn’t he panicked, pacing back and forth in front of his tent? 

Jesus comes at midnight.  Somehow, in the midst of great stress, God comes to him and gives him sleep.  Somehow, David is finding, in his midnight theology, a sense of the care and kindness of God.  The surprise is that David is finding God more immense (big enough to handle his rivals), and also kinder (sustaining) than we would imagine him to be.  I think David found that God was much more loyal to him, then he was to God.

The call at the beginning of this new way is this:  “Be loyal to me and listen to me (“meditate”).  Stop scheming and plotting, trying to grasp and make your own way.  I will come to you and sustain you.  I will dig down into the deepest parts of who you are, and I will give you peace and rest.”  This is the call I need in the midst of my own dark dreams.