Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart. –Rumi
Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it. –Rumi
I’m jealous of Rumi, you know. Such delicious words, slicing through to the very heart of things, letting life ring. A clear bell of a voice – his words are not holders of knowledge, but windows to the very heart of reality. They open me. Continue reading
‘Why do we have to read poetry?’
‘Read it and you will know why. If you still don’t know, read it again.’
Some of them took the things she said to heart, as she had done once when they were said to her. She was helping them assume their humanity.
‘People have always made poetry,’ she told them. ‘Trust that it will matter to you.’
… Some of them did listen. This seemed to her to be perfectly miraculous.”
How do we assume our humanity – as individuals; as societies? What is it about listening to the heart of another that helps to shape our own? What is it about seeing the world through the eyes of another that stretches our soul beyond its stingy boundaries? Continue reading
I must admit that I was a bit taken aback with a phrase in my last post and its implications that I might find God annoying. At such times, I am torn between honesty and the threat of heresy. Somehow, I think that God prefers honesty. In any case … in all cases … I must rest upon that very grace that sometimes seems annoying. Continue reading
“God is beyond our capacity to define because to define is to limit. God cannot be controlled, and therefore God cannot be defined…” – Rabbi Samuel Karff
As one who feels compelled to think things through, this presents a quandary. I want to understand, to grasp in my mind, to anchor my thoughts with carefully chosen words. Yet those very words which are the tools for understanding betray my intent because they are chosen – carefully – to mean a certain thing. They are always too small. Continue reading
I have been spending this week amid the rough and spiny beauty of Big Bend. Watching the sun rush into the morning sky from behind the ridge, listening to the birds as they wake the breeze. Seeing the thorny limbs of the ocotillo silhouetted against a streak of sunlit cloud.
This is wild and lonely country, with a hardened grace that is recorded in the adobe history of common striving. None could make it here, alone. Continue reading
Luke 2: 36-38 There was also a prophet, Anna, the
daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.
That whispered voice that speaks with deep authority
The voice that speaks to my inner ear, that warms my heart
That sense of the Almighty, shielded sufficiently so that I can bear its coming
That Presence spoke to me today when I arose from my mat.
Moishe the Beadle, in introducing the young Elie Wiesel to the ways of mystery, insisted that, ‘every question possessed a power that was lost in the answer.’
How so?
If I follow his lead … I don’t answer this question. I let it work its power in my heart.
(Not easy, is it?)
[Wiesel, E. (1958). Night. (2006 translation by M. Wiesel) New York: Hill & Wang. p. 5] [photo adapted from ‘Rabbi Avrohom Osdoba‘ by Joe Goldberg per cc 2.0]
William Sloan Coffin offers a reflection on the story in the second chapter of Mark about the man with paralysis, whose friends lowered him through the roof to get to Jesus. Coffin focuses on the courage required to accept the gift and the challenge of healing.
“With no difficulty, I can picture myself lying on the pallet, the center of the crowd’s attention. I can image myself enjoying the ability to use my distress to manipulate my friends. I can certainly imagine the comfort I would draw from the words, ‘My son, your sins are forgiven.’ But when, following the indicative of forgiveness, I heard the imperative of responsibility – ‘Rise, take up your pallet and walk’ – I think I my inclination would have been to murmur, ‘No thanks, I think I’ll just stay here on the stretcher.’ (p.12-13)”
“… if it’s hell to be guilty, it’s certainly scarier to be responsible – response-able – able to respond to God’s visionary, creative love. (p.13)”
Hey! Did you notice the dawn this morning?
Huh? Is it dawn? (yawn)
Did you catch the energy of that inexhaustible furnace of light – the daily eruption of fire across the rim of morning?
Ah … yeah … I guess so. My eyes (and my heart) are a bit heavy. They are not stirring yet today. Continue reading
those laugh lines
at the corners of my soul –
they belong to you
[photo ‘heart shaped bacon‘ by The Art of Doing Stuff per cc 2.0]
Quiet Hope 