Category Archives: Biblical Reflection

Hesse’s Garden Words

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He wrote Siddhartha and Steppenwolf. Today I found Hesse’s Hours in the Garden and Other Poems a few books down from Neruda’s Odes to Common Things. Since I came to the library to tidy up the learning garden materials, and since I’ve spend so many hours in the garden here, I brought it home. His first poem, written in 1939:

Page from a Journal

On the slope behind the house today

I cut through roots and rocks and

Dug a hole, deep and wide,

Carted away from it each stone

And all the friable, thin earth.

Then I knelt there a moment, walked

In the old woods, bet down again, using

A trowel and both my hands to scoop

Black, decaying woods-soil with the warm

Smell of fungi from the trunk of a rotting

Chestnut tree – two heavy buckets full I carried

Back to the hole and planted the tree inside;

Carefully I covered the roots with peaty soil,

Slowly poured sun-warmed water over them,

Mudding them gently until the soil settled.

It stands there, young and small,

Will go on standing when we are gone

And the huge uproar, endless urgency and

Fearful delirium of our days forgotten.

The fohn will bend it, rainstorms tear at it,

The sun will laugh, wet snow weigh it down,

The siskin and nuthatch make it their home,

And the silent hedgehog burrow at its foot.

All it has ever experienced, tasted, suffered:

The course of years, generations of animals,

Oppression, recovery, friendship of sun and wind

Will pour forth each day in the song

Of its rustling foliage, in the friendly

Gesture of its gently swaying crown,

In the delicate sweet scent of resinous

Sap moistening the sleep-glued buds,

 And in the eternal game of lights and

Shadows it plays with itself, content.

[Hesse, Hermann, Rika Leser, trans., Hours in the Garden, “Page from a Journal,” New York: Farrar, Straus, Girroux, 1979, pp. 2-5]

Note: fohn is a warm dry wind blowing from the northern slopes of the Alps.

Life goes on all around us. Plants live and die, and so do we. Who will remember our names decades from now? Who will remember or care that we once walked this earth? In the grand scheme of things, we count for little if we only count what is credited to our names and remembered beyond our days.

I will not be remembered beyond the few people I love, who love me. That’s as it should be. But the plants I tend, the children I’ve spent time with, the prayers I’ve offered? The world would be very different if I hadn’t done such things.

I’ve done my best to keep faith with the world and the lives it holds. It’s a small price to pay for the beauty, love, and holiness that I’ve found here. It’s more than enough to play a small part in this holy endeavor called creation. It’s blessed and sacred. I, too, am content with the eternal game of lights and shadows that is my life.

They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze… (Gen. 3:8)

Hermann Hesse (1877-1962) was a German born Swiss poet, novelist, and artist. His works explore what it means to live an authentic human life. Siddhartha is still required reading in many high school and college programs.

Home Made

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Just know you’re not alone I’m gonna make this place your home.

[Phillip Phillips, Home, The World from the Side of the Moon]

I live in a town with 20,000 other people, give or take. This time of year, there are a lot more people living here. People of all shapes, shades, and sizes look for hermit crabs on the beach, cast lines into the river, catch a Gatemen game, and sleep under the same starry sky that hangs over my house. Most days, I do my best to make this place I live in and love a good home for my 20,000+ neighbors. I hope they know they aren’t alone. I’m here.

Loneliness is a peculiar kind of spiritual homelessness. It has nothing to do with the place I keep my furniture or the bit of asphalt that my car sits on. It’s more about whether I feel lost in this big world. Am I alone in a vast, dark, empty universe? What if I get lost in the billions of years that have already passed and the billions to come? Is this cosmic neighborhood simply too big to call home?

If I don’t pay attention to the demons who fill me with fear, if I take a deep breath and open my eyes, I can see my town, planet, galaxy, and era for what they are: the place God made my home. The place God made the home of all my neighbors.

The heavens are telling the glory of God;

and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. 

Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words;

their voice is not heard;

yet their voice goes out through all the earth,

and their words to the end of the world.

Psalm 19:1-4

God takes care?

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God takes care of old folks and fools.
Public Enemy, He Got Game, Power to the People & the Beats

Does God take care of old folks and fools more than the young and the quick witted? I don’t know. I’m pretty sure God takes care of everyone; I’m also pretty sure that old folks and fools will admit it.

 

Hum along…

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This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…

I didn’t attach the music to this one. I think you know the tune. Repeat the above once, then again, adding let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. If you are feeling especially brave and silly, hold up your pointer finger like a candle. If you happen to have small children, you’ve got a ready-made chorus.

It’s a favorite song when we are young; it’s embarrassing from our teen years through most of our twenties, thirties, and forties – unless we’re just singing along to encourage little kids. If we are very wise and very lucky, it’s a treasure we reclaim in our later years, along with Jesus Loves Me, This I know.

The light we hold is ours alone, the unique and precious gift we receive from the One who forms us in holiness. It isn’t our talents or marketable skills, our keen intellect or acerbic wit. It is who we are at our very core, and what we are made of: light and warmth. Such a light and heat isn’t made greater by extinguishing the light of another. It’s meant to dispel darkness, call people home, and illuminate this beautiful creation around us. We don’t create our little lights, we let them shine.

When I die, I hope someone sings this song. I hope I’ve done my best to let my little light shine. I hope.

Reading It Right

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I read the Bible often

I try to read it right

As far as I can understand

It’s nothing but a burning light

[Blind Willie Johnson, Soul of a Man from Bruce Cockburn’s Nothing But A Burning Light, Golden Mountain Music Corp., Sony Music, Inc/Columbia Records, 1991]

A lot of time and effort is spent by seminary professors trying to teach their students how to read the Bible right. Historical/Critical, Literary, and Socio-Political are just a few ways to interpret scripture. Generations of students compare different versions, studying texts in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. But how do they read it right?

I’ve heard excellent, intriguing lectures that explain many things about complex texts. I’ve listened to blatantly biased interpretations used to justify opinions and situations that the Biblical writers never encountered, much less wrote about. I’ve heard Sunday sermons do the same.

Just like the lyrics say, I read the Bible and do my best to read it right. If I’m reading chapter and verse to justify myself or judge another, I’m treating sacred words like the family silver service – sorting it, shining it, and stuffing it in a drawer to be used at my convenience and need. I don’t think it was ever meant to be read likethat.

Blind Willie had it right: if I’m reading it right, it’s nothing but the burning light that reveals me, angels and neighbors, and the sacred path we walk together upon God’s green earth.

Available on iTunes.

sacred songs, radio prophecy

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New Sound of Silence

(Disturbed, The Sound of Silence,  Immortalized, 2015)

The metal band Disturbed recently released their version of Simon and Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence. Instead of quiet despair it’s an agonizing scream raging against the many surface distractions that keep all of us from true conversation and connection. To rephrase the lyrics, only fools miss the glaring truth that withdrawal from the voices of others is a cancer that threatens communal life – individuals and groups. It’s one of the most sincere prayers I’ve heard lately.
What we say matters, how we say it matters even more. What we listen to and for matters; how we respond matters just as much. Do I look for the words of the prophets on subway walls and tenement halls, or do I notice only the glowing neon advertisements asking nothing of me but my money and passivity? With shots taking lives in nightclubs and on sidewalks, I can’t afford to turn a deaf ear.
Still, small voices guide us to truth. Prophetic warnings writ large remind us to love God and neighbor. Silence can be holy or smothering, depending on why we hold it. Silence can hold our restless, distracted souls still long enough to feel the love of God surrounding us. Silencing the cries of others through apathy is a sure road to a hell of our own making.
Music can help us hear the cries of others and the longing for true communion that lives in our very souls. Here are a few lines that move me:

Won’t you help to sing these songs of freedom?
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. (Bob Marley, Redemption Song)

One love, ya’ll.
My wandering got my ass wondering where Christ is in all this crisis.
It might feel good, it might sound a little something, but f*** the game if it don’t mean nothing.
God takes care of old folks and fools. (Public Enemy, He Got Game)

Is there anybody’s children can tell me, what is the soul of a man?
Was teaching the lawyers and the doctor that a man ain’t nothing but his mind.
I read the Bible often, I try to read it right. As far as I can understand, is nothing but a burnin’ light.
When Christ taught in the temple, the people all stood amazed, was teaching the lawyers and the doctors how to raise a man from the grave. (Bruce Cockburn, Soul of a Man)

Make your own list of songs with lines that break the sound of silence for you. I’d love to hear them…

(Simon and Garfunkel, The Sound of Silence, Best of Simon and Garfunkel)

Sing to the Lord a new song, all the earth. Psalm 96

Changing the Narrative

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A few years back, dear friends moved hundreds of miles north. Their son was running with a rowdy crowd, heading into trouble. They traded in the seacoast and quick access to Boston for pine trees and ski trails, a large school for a small one. Changing addresses changed their lives, reshaping their family story and their son’s individual narrative. What was a leap of faith years ago is now a wise decision seen in hindsight.

Lead us not into temptation, we pray. Save us from the time of trial, we pray. In changing their narrative, I think God did.

But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. John 21:24

Crossing Paths, Chance Encounters

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New Year’s Eve, 1989, I went out with good friends. We were on different paths, but so glad those paths had crossed. We decided to meet in Portsmouth for a glass of champagne every year, as many of us that could.

A few weeks later, Deb began training as a physical therapist; Bonnie continued to build her portfolio for graphic design; Jen moved to Boston and an interior design program; Lauren and I both went out of state – for her a corporate position in North Carolina, for me a seminary program in New Jersey. While each of us kept up with our friends who stayed local when we returned home, distance, schedules, and finances didn’t allow us time together.

In New Jersey, I worked at a Mexican restaurant a short walk from my dorm. Late Friday night before Christmas, Lauren walked in. She was driving back to North Carolina, her brother happened to catch a basketball game in town, and they dropped in for dinner on a whim. We got our holiday toast and a happy reunion – my first and best Christmas present that year. An hour later, we were in our cars heading in opposite directions.

Two days later, Lauren’s mother called me. Would I be interested in working as a counselor for teens in a residence program for a semester? She wanted to fill that position before she left hers as the program’s director at the end of the week. Lauren had told her about our chance encounter. We met the next day, I took the position; she left at the end of that week before I began.

I told this story to my friends over a new year’s brunch. All of us agreed that Jung was right: synchronicity is real. But I think it’s more than just expected and important encounters. Sometimes, crossing paths changes the whole journey. A decision to keep in touch, an unplanned late night encounter, a job leaving and a position filled: my life story would be very different without those crossing paths and chance encounters. Change the story, change the blessing. I’m grateful beyond words for the story I’ve lived – and for the crossed paths that brought blessing into its chapters.

The Adventure Continues

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This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true. But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written. John 21: 24-25

It’s a faithful confession that Jesus can’t be captured by any number of written words. It’s a glad admission that this glimpse of God With Us isn’t all there is to see. There are so many things that weren’t written down, even more that no one was around to see. No one’s life story could be written fully – not yours or mine, certainly not the life of Christ.

But it’s not just about the things that happened between the stable in Bethlehem, the cross in Jerusalem, and breakfast on a shore in Galilee. The story of Jesus continues because it is our story. The Spirit of Christ in us has been adding new chapters for two thousand years. The gospel will continue long after we are ancient history. We are the Body, we are the storytellers, we are the ongoing adventure.

What adventures will your chapter add?

Lent, week 6: Saint Patrick’s Breastplate

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I summon today


All these powers between me and those evils,


Against every cruel and merciless power 
that may oppose my body and soul

,
Against incantations of false prophets,


Against black laws of pagandom,


Against false laws of heretics,


Against craft of idolatry,


Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,


Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul;


Christ to shield me today


Against poison, against burning,


Against drowning, against wounding,


So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.

As a young reader I loved fantasy books. The epic tales featured noble and brave young people who were enmeshed in the battle between Good and Evil: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, The Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars. Though the battles were difficult, they were always so clear which side was right and which was wrong. And God, the Force, the Truth, was always with the hero.

As an adult I gradually learned that things weren’t so clear and that evil often arises out of good intentions or understandable fears and sometimes from the history and present of our beloved Christian church.

To summon protection from evil as we pray this section of the St. Patrick’s prayer seems to be a much more difficult task. I look at the war in Syria that drags on and on and on. I see evil in the indiscriminate bombing of civilians and leaving people to starve in villages laid seige. But is evil also in the people traffickers who lead refugees to die in rickety boats and washed up on Greek beaches? Is evil to be found in countries refusing to take in refugees or those who refuse to help fund the cost for their care? How do I pray for protection from this?

If I choose to live in the world, to really listen and learn and live an examined life, I open myself up to truly seeing evil that may oppose my body and soul. And equally, to understand the evil I may unwittingly or reluctantly participate in as part of a larger society, nation, or my particular gender or race that opposes or oppresses others.

The political primary process that daily comes to us in the form of 30 second bursts seems very much to be about the challenge of evil. Is evil “out there” such that we can wall it off or regulate it away? Or is evil within our nation in entrenched income equality and institutional racism? Politicians rise up as prophets speaking incantations that promise change and protection in exchange for our vote.

But I believe to be protected against evil requires more from us than that. Lent is an opportunity to decide to be clear-eyed and fearlessly seek the truth. Praying for protection from idolatry necessitates understanding that what we hold so dear blinds us to others – whether money, power, security, nostalgia… As we learn about the world and about ourselves, we will be challenged to change. Change is undeniably hard. But with our sights set on God and Jesus’ commandment to love neighbor as self, it is harder to choose the path of evil or not stand up against the inertia of evil.

I hope the abundance of reward we pray for is more peace in our times, and more peace in our minds. And the blessings that come with seeking those difficult and uncomfortable truths and seeing them through to the place of justice and grace.

Offered by Karen Gale, farmer, mother, seeker of God.