Thursday, March 11, 2010

Random Thoughts On A Lovely Thursday Afternoon

"How do we learn to pray? By praying." I read these words of Mother Teresa's this week. Seemingly simple; sometimes terribly hard.

This is one of my favorite prayers which I attempt (often badly) to pray each day. Oh those distracting, stupid thoughts ever crowding my mind and heart. For some of you, it will be familiar; for others it will be completely new. Each time I begin to grasp its words, it becomes more meaningful to me.

A Prayer for Peace
Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow

O Lord, grant me to greet the coming day in peace. Help me in all things to rely upon your holy will. In every hour of the day, reveal thy will to me. Bless my dealings with all who surround me. Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul and with firm conviction that thy will governs all. In all my deeds and words, guide my thoughts and feelings. In unforeseen events, let me not forget that all are sent by thee. Teach me to act firmly and wisely without embittering and embarrassing others. Give me the strength to bear the fatigue of the coming day with all that it shall bring. Direct my will, teach me to pray, and pray thou thyself in me. Amen.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Rest

My choice for this week's Poetry Wednesday is from Kahlil Gibran's work, A Tear and a Smile. This offering is the third section of a poem entitled, "The Beauty of Death."

I dedicate it to the memory of our beloved cousin, Matthew Andrew Tyrrell (April 17, 1985-March 9, 2008)  May your memory be eternal!

Rest

Unwrap my body of its linen shroud
And clothe me in leaves of lily and jasmine.
Take my remains out of this ivory casket
And lay them on a couch of orange blossom.
Lament not over me, sons of my mother,
But sing you songs of youth and joy.
Shed not tears, O daughter of the fields,
But chant a poem of days of the harvest and the pressing.
Cover not my breast with weeping and sighing,
But write upon it with your fingers
The symbol of love and the sign of joy.
Disturb not the air's repose
With the chanting of priest and threnody,
But let your heart to exult with me
In praise of immortality and everlasting life.

Wear not the black of mourning,
But rejoice with me in white raiment.
Speak not in sorrow of my going,
But close your eyes and you shall see me among you,
Now and forevermore.
Lay me down upon leafy boughs,
Raise me high upon shoulders, 
Then lead me slowly to the wild places.
Carry me not to a burying-place,
For the multitude's clamor disturbs my rest,
And the rattling of bones and skulls robs me of slumber.
Bear me to the forest of cypress trees
And on that place where the violet and anemone grow
Dig me a grave.
Dig my grave deep,
That the floods bear not my bones to the valley.
Dig my grave wide,
That the phantoms of night may come and sit beside me.

Cast aside these garments
And lead me naked to the earth's heart;
Lay me down softly
On my mother's breast.
Cover me with soft earth,
And with each sod
Sow the seeds of the wild rose and jasmine
That they may blossom upon my grave,
Nourished by the body's elements,
To grow and spread abroad
The fragrance of my heart;
And stand forth
Holding aloft in the sun's face
The secrets of my rest,
Swaying in the breeze
To tell the passer-by
Of my yearnings and my dreams that are gone.

Leave me now, sons of my mother–
Leave me in my aloneness.
Go hence with silent steps,
The going of the stillness in the empty valley.
Leave me in my solitude–and disperse
Like the almond and the apple blossom
Scattered by Nisan's breath.
Return you to your dwelling-places
And there shall you find that which Death cannot take
From you and me
Leave now this place,
Whom you seek is gone far from this world.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Mercy

I have been a bit harried these last couple days. Quick to anger and slow to hold my tongue, causing Thomas to question why I am so crabby. (Oh my heart.) I have wallowed in what I reasoned to be righteous self-pity, lamenting the flooded basement whose stink permeates the house; the lentils dumped all over the floor (again) by two curious little boys; the husband who had to work late; the mess of the house (again); the pile of reeking diapers to be washed; the little one who really only wants my attention. Mentally I scream, "Stop. Leave me alone. I am drowning (again)."

Kindly and selflessly my parents came over (again) to help me out when I called. Armed with doughnuts for the boys, they descended to the basement and played with my precious children for several hours, allotting me some time to clean the upstairs unhindered and to enjoy some moments of peace and rest. Thank you mom and dad.

Psalm 103 is the psalm assigned by the church lectionary to be read on Fridays. How healing were the poet's words especially today, a shower of grace upon my restless heart.


Bless the LORD, O my soul:
and all that is within me, bless his holy name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits:
who forgiveth all thine iniquities;
who healeth all thy diseases;
who redeemeth thy life from destruction;
who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies;
who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;
so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
The LORD executeth righteousness
and judgment for all that are oppressed.
He made known his ways unto Moses,
his acts unto the children of Israel.
The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.
He will not always chide:
neither will he keep his anger for ever.
He hath not dealt with us after our sins;
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth,
so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
Like as a father pitieth his children,
so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.
For he knoweth our frame;
he remembereth that we are dust.
As for man, his days are as grass:
as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone;
and the place thereof shall know it no more.
But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting
upon them that fear him,
and his righteousness unto children's children;
to such as keep his covenant,
and to those that remember his commandments to do them.
The LORD hath prepared his throne in the heavens;
and his kingdom ruleth over all.
Bless the LORD, ye his angels,
that excel in strength,
that do his commandments,
hearkening unto the voice of his word.
Bless ye the LORD, all ye his hosts;
ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.
Bless the LORD, all his works
in all places of his dominion:
bless the LORD, O my soul.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Love Is The Measure

Providentially, they have entered my life, though my knowledge of them has been limited to the confines of words on a page. Some I know better than others, hearing their voices throughout my day, praying for their help, that with God's grace I may work out my salvation and become the person He created me to be. Each, however, has uniquely affected my being in transformative ways. "I am powerful," a local billboard displaying a dark-skinned woman proclaims. So to are these women; their influence born from their decision to continuously surrender their will to God and to choose love as their guiding principle. In their indefatigable efforts to quench the sorrows of those suffering men, women, and children around them, they risked much - safety, prestige, comfort, reputation, their very lives and the lives of those whom they loved. The crowd blinded by fear, calculated rationales, and misguided faith branded them as fools. And perhaps they were foolish and reckless. But in a world in which people, myself included, continue to claim to resent tyranny and hate injustice yet choose to remain mired in their pedestrian luxuries claiming to be innocent bystanders incapable of doing anything to evoke measurable change, a little foolishness, a little reckless love, might be crucial lest humankind succumb to inhumanity; the image of God replaced with a spiritless machine.

After learning that she was to be sold further south, Harriet Tubman utilized a loosely organized network of safe houses, secret routes, codes, and signs, known as the Underground Railroad, and escaped to Philadelphia. As a free woman, Tubman became a "Conductor" on this railroad, journeying south nineteen times and freeing as many as three hundred slaves. She never lost a passenger and became known as "the Moses of her people."

Founder of the Catholic Worker Movement, Dorothy Day dedicated her life to helping those deemed by the world as "the least of these" and attempting to open the eyes of her brothers and sisters so that they would no longer accept "this filthy, rotten system." Day is remembered for her commitment to peace, nonviolence, racial justice, and the cause of the poor and the outcast.

Corrie ten Boom lived an uneventful life with her father Casper and sister Betsie in their Holland home until German occupation brought Jewish men and women to their door. Besides creating a hiding place in their homes for Jewish people, the ten Booms became actively involved in an underground network designed to help their Jewish brothers and sisters. Ultimately, Casper, Betsie, and Corrie were arrested. Casper died soon after his imprisonment and Betsie and Corrie were sent to the Ravensbruck concentration camp in Germany where Betsie died. After a clerical error which allowed for her release, Corrie spent the remainder of her years helping those victims of the war by establishing homes for healing and by telling the world her story.

A Russian emigre living in Paris, Mother Maria Skobtsova chose a life dedicated to serving God while living in the midst of the world. Serving the poor and homeless in Paris, Mother Maria's work during German occupation in World War II included assisting the Jewish people. During a mass arrest, Mother Maria initiated a plan to smuggle Jewish children out of the stadium where they were being imprisoned by placing them in trash cans. She then helped them escape to Southern France. Mother Maria was also arrested and sent to the Ravensbruck concentration camp where she was killed.

Rosa Parks was tired from her long day at work as a seamstress when she boarded the neutral section of a Montgomery bus on December 1, 1955. When a white patron arrived and the bus driver demanded that Rosa move out of her seat she said no; an action which resulted in the Montgomery Bus Boycott. Nearly one year after Parks' arrest, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that segregation on buses, like segregation at schools, was illegal.

After serving twenty years as a teacher of geography and as a principal at a school in Calcutta, Mother Teresa received a "call within a call" and was granted permission from the Catholic Church to leave her position and live with the poorest of the poor, finding in their faces, Christ in His "distressing disguise."

Following the premature deaths of her husband and eldest daughter, Haregewoin Teferra felt like her life was over and sought to leave the world, appealing to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church to grant her a life of seclusion and allow her to live in a hut by her daughter's grave. But a Catholic organization contacted Teferra begging her to shelter a homeless teenage girl. Teferra said yes, and the organization kept calling. Prior to her death on March 17, 2009, Teferra had cared for nearly 400 children.

It is poetry Wednesday. Forgive me for the lengthy post. My selection today is a section from Kahlil Gibran's "On Love."

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his 
pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he
crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and 
caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred 
fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God's sacred feast.