Idée d’jour

You come to nature with all your theories, and she knocks them all flat
— Renoir

Your House of Light, ver. 2

Some of you may remember the version of this I posted early last year. This is a slightly different tune (sung acapella), with only a few words added for the sake of scansion.

I recorded this with a Samsung CL80 in the St. Nicholas Chapel at St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral. The CL80 is really a still camera, so I was curious how well it's movie function worked. I was also curious how the echoes of the chapel would sound.

The tune here has a slight Celtic feel, so it seems proper that a Celtic Blessed Mary be by my side

Comments appreciated

Are You Holy?

Let me share a parable with you, which also happens to be a true story: A priest was leading a group of first graders on a tour of the church grounds. "This,” he would say, “is a room. It has tables, chairs, and other furniture in it. People work in it. I want you to study it very carefully.”

And the children scrutinized the church office. Then they went to the parish hall. “This,” said the priest, “is a room. It has tables, chairs, and other furniture in it.  People do things and work in it. I want you to study it very carefully.” And they did.

And so the tour continued, including the choir loft and the main church. Then they came to the sanctuary. One of the boys started to go in to study it as he had the other rooms. But the priest reached out and stopped him: “You can’t go in there.”

“Why?”

“Because ,” the priest replied, “it's a holy place. Now I want you all to study it very care­fully — from this side of the altar rail — and tell me what’s different about this room.”

So they studied it. They saw about four tables, five chairs, a bench, and even some carpeting. And they knew that people worked or did things inside this room. They couldn’t see anything at all different about this room. Not at all.

“You' re right,” said the priest, “that room is like all the other rooms we saw. But it’s still holy.  You know why?” And the children didn't.

"To remind us that all other rooms are holy".

Later, the boywho wanted to go into the sanctuary asked: “Father , are you holy?”

After thinking for a moment, the priest said: “Yes, I guess I am. Now, can you tell me why?”

And the boyanswered, “I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with that room we couldn't go into.”

The sanctuary reminds us that all rooms (and all places) are holy. We remind ourselves that the sanctuary is holy by not entering it idly. Similarly, the priest reminds us that all people are holy. As Saint Paul wrote, “Don’t you know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit?”

Perhaps we are called to treat all places with the respect we show the sanctuary. Perhaps, more importantly, we are called to show others and ourselves that same respect.

The One who indwells the sanctuary of the world also indwells the sanctuary at the center of our heart,. wherein we find the peace which passes understanding.

Originally published in The Pilgrim, July 1985

Woody's Spirituality

I do hear you speak to me, god, but no man hears
I do hear you speak new to me in no man's language
I do hear you, god, talkin' to me in words no human knows
In no known lingo, in no worldly tone
I do hear you god, sing to me above all men's miseries
— Woody Guthrie, from his play "Forsaken Bibel" (sic)
Quoted in the intro of Bring Your Own God by Steve Edington

Idée d’jour

I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say because it's such a beautiful animal. There you go. I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her.
— Ellen DeGeneres

I Am An Orphan

I am an orphan. I lost my mother when I was six. My father was taken from me when I was seventeen. My brother never truly returned from the war. I do not know if I have any other family.

I am an exile, wandering in the desert. I'm trying to return Home, but I've forgotten where it is. I left the land of plagues almost three years ago.

I had thought the land of plagues was home enough. I never wanted for food, the shelter seemed sound, and the drink was good. Yes, the drink was very good. I had many friends, who seemed like family.

A time came when I began to hunger for something more. When I heard someone speak of “home,” I thought that might be what I longed for. Thus began my exile.

Now I am lost in the World, unsure of how exactly I lost my direction At first, all was well, and my heart burned within me as if Home were very close at hand. Then I took a wrong turn, or got distracted, and now I am lost.

I am an exile. I remember a loaf of bread that seemed enough. I remember a tent that was warm and welcoming and could have served.  I remember a draught of wine which set my heart ablaze. But none soothed my longing, and I was left even hungrier.

I am an exile lost in the World I helped build. I am an exile who has wandered for thirty-some years through this desert. I'm thirsting for a Home I believe is close at hand, although unseen. I am an exile, crying out in this wilderness, “How long, 0 Lord, how long?”

Originally published March, 1986

Idée d’jour

I realize that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.
— Edith Cavell

Idée d’jour

Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have. Make the Now the primary focus of your life.
— Eckhart Tolle

Idée d’jour

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.
Chinese Proverb

Born to Be King

You had been born to be king. You were the heir-apparent, well-beloved of your father, as well as the people. You had been trained in the ways of a wise ruler by your father and his counselors. All was prepared for you to assume the throne when you came of age.

One summer, your father sent you to tour the north countries. While you were gone, your younger brother, Li Ching, spread rumors against you among the court and people. “Your son thinks you a doddering old fool,” he told your father. “When my brother becomes king,” he'd said to the people, “he will seize your inheritance and send your young men to die in the southern mines.”  And he said to the counselors: “My brother will have no use for you. He plans to rule by the stars!”

You had been born to be king. But now the counselors would no longer speak to you. The people were plotting to kill you before you ascended to the throne. And your father accused you of many things, full of fury, and sent you from his court in disgrace. You supposed you would die in the western wilderness.

For three months, you wandered with no direction. You ate roots, fruits, and berries, as the court horticulturist had taught you. You had several meals with strangers who found your face friendly. On the fifteenth day of the fourth month, you gained a traveling companion with a sun-darkened face and curly hair. He told you of a king who was coming to his native land, one who would be king over all other kingdoms. This was indeed good news; perhaps you could persuade him to speak to your father and restore your good name.- Perhaps you could once again come into your own.

You walked together for several months, speaking of many things. You walked with him to his destination, where he drew a map ,which would guide you the rest- of the way to his native land.  Now your main concern was what sort of honor gift you could offer to this great king.
Fourteen moons had glided through the nights. The fourth night of the fourteenth moon, you had a curious dream: A woman as large as the sky appeared before you; in her right hand she held a brilliant star, in her left she held a bitter herb. “What would you have of me?” you asked. She handed you the herb and said, “This is your gift. Then: “Follow. Follow the star.”

When you awoke, you found the herb growing nearby. You gathered it into your satchel bag. You trusted the dream. Somehow, it seemed such a gift would. persuade the great King of Kings to help you come into your own once again.
A new year had begun. You had come to a great sea, and saw the star shining in the south. It seemed to hover over a small, town. It certainly did not seem like a regal town.

The-star now shown like a hundred stars over a cave. Within you found some unwashed shepherds and-common cattle. Beyond them knelt, an impoverished and frightened couple. She was about seventeen; her hair was long and stringy, her garment was tattered, and yet she seemed the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. He was twenty-one; behind his scraggly beard, his eyes were filled with a sad wisdom.

Between them is the child, wrapped in torn pieces of cloth and lain in a manger filled with hay.

You had been born to be-king. What do you do? You kneel before the child. You hand the gift of the bitter herb to the mother. You have come into your own at last.

Originally published January 1986

Idée d’jour

I am always more interested in what I am about to do, than in what I have already done.
—Rachel Carson

Idée d’jour

Sixty minutes of thinking of any kind is bound to lead to confusion and unhappiness.
James Thurber

Idée d’jour

Time is not a line, but a series of now points. — Taisen Deshimaru

... darkness is my only companion

“. . . darkness is my only companion.” — Ps 88:19b (BCP)

There are often times in our lives when, like the psalmist, we feel wholly alone. We wander as though in a Wilderness, with no guide; with only Darkness as a companion.

There are many reasons for this dark wandering, but the story I hear most often has to do with self will, or pride. We really are thick-skulled folk, and most of the healthy choices sound too pat or cliched to be true. So we stubbornly try to do things our way.

Perhaps we use the moon as a guide. But the moon is remote and fickle; she is indeed a harsh mistress. And eventually the time will come when we are left with darkness as our only companion.

Or we throw yarrow sticks. Or we become existential atheists. Or we live for the pleasures of the dance floor and the bedroom. Those of us who have lived these sorts of lives know how utterly lonely they can be. When darkness is our only companion, it can be a form of living death.

But there is a light which can break through this darkness. It shines constantly, but it often seems we must be in the Tomb before we can see it. This light is cast by the Lord of Light, who is Lord of Lords.

Those of us who have wandered in the Wilderness with Darkness as our only companion have lived out a timeless story. It is the story of a Man Who Died, and yet lived again. It is a story which seems impossible to believe, yet we must believe because we have lived it — though in miniature.

It is a story we continue to live. It is present and fresh to us today, often with a greater vibrancy than the 6:00 news. And we know that the same Lord of Light who breathed life into the Man Who Died continuously breathes life into us. It is by this grace that we find the quiet space which is filled with a peace that passes understanding.

Originally written & published May, 1985

Idée d’jour

Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.
— James Thurber

Idée d’jour

It is a truism that almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so.
— Robert A. Heinlein

Idée d’jour

I dreamt that my hair was kempt. Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
— Ogden Nash

Idée d’jour

Laughter need not be cut out of anything, since it improves everything.
— James Thurber

Idée d’jour

To be capable of embarrassment is the beginning of moral consciousness. Honor grows from qualms.
— John Leonard

Idée d’jour

Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they will never cease to be amused.
— Anonymous