Category: politics

Strength Under Control

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To understand the meek
picture a great stallion at full gallop
in a meadow, who—
at his master’s voice—seizes up to a stunned
but instant halt.
So with the strain of holding that great power
in check, the muscles
along the arched neck keep eddying,
and only the velvet ears
prick forward, awaiting the next order.
~Mary Karr from “Who The Meek Are Not”

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Matthew 5:5

Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger, for the anger of man does not work the righteousness of God.
James 1: 19-20

I’ve seen meekness like this, first hand.

Our stallion allowed his strength and passion to be under control.
He was eager to listen.
He wanted to see what we might ask of him.
He took instruction eagerly.
He never lashed back in anger.
He simply wanted to be with us.

Meekness and humility make no sense given
the world’s demand now for “strongman” leadership:
someone who submits to no one,
apologizes to no one,
blames others for what goes wrong,
feels compassion for no one.

Globally and individually, we have desperate need of meekness.
True strength is when someone knows the extent of their power but resists the need to prove it to anyone else.

The meek love this God who shares Himself,
who sacrifices for the bereft, and
whose great strength is obvious,
yet directed completely to our salvation.

Humble and Human, willing to bend
You are Fashioned of flesh and the fire of life,
You are Not too proud to wear our skin
To know this weary world we’re in
Humble, humble Jesus

Humble in sorrow,
You gladly carried Your cross
Never refusing Your life to the weakest of us
Not too proud to bear our sin
To feel this brokenness we’re in

Humble, humble Jesus
We bow our knees
We must decrease You must increase
We lift You high

Humble in greatness, born in the likeness of man
Name above all names, holding our world in Your hands
Not too proud to dwell with us, to live in us, to die for us

Humble, humble Jesus
We bow our knees
We must decrease You must increase
We lift You high
We bow our knees
We must decrease You must increase
We lift You high

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The Gates of Hell Shall Not Prevail

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For Presidents’ Day 2025 – below are excerpts of a 1838 speech by a 28 year old Abraham Lincoln, honoring the rule of constitutional law as established by the founding fathers and President George Washington; he warns about a potential cult of personality and ambition in leadership that could pull down our freedoms and moral standing.


Is it unreasonable then to expect, that some man possessed of the loftiest genius, coupled with ambition sufficient to push it to its utmost stretch, will at some time, spring up among us?

And when such a one does, it will require the people to be united with each other, attached to the government and laws, and generally intelligent, to successfully frustrate his designs.

Distinction will be his paramount object, and although he would as willingly, perhaps more so, acquire it by doing good as harm; yet, that opportunity being past, and nothing left to be done in the way of building up, he would set boldly to the task of pulling down. . . .

Passion has helped us; but can do so no more. It will in future be our enemy. Reason, cold, calculating, unimpassioned reason, must furnish all the materials for our future support and defence. Let those materials be moulded into general intelligence, sound morality, and in particular, a reverence for the constitution and laws: and, that we improved to the last; that we remained free to the last; that we revered his name to the last; that, during his long sleep, we permitted no hostile foot to pass over or desecrate his resting place; shall be that which to learn the last trump shall awaken our WASHINGTON.

Upon these let the proud fabric of freedom rest, as the rock of its basis; and as truly as has been said of the only greater institution, “the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18)
~Abraham Lincoln – excerpts from his speech to the Young Men’s Lyceum of Springfield

(thank you to The Dispatch for highlighting Lincoln’s prescient and cautionary speech on this Presidents’ Day)

Rodin’s Gates of Hell

I bind unto myself today
The gift to call on the Trinity
The saving faith where I can say
Come Three in One, oh One in Three

Be above me, as high as the noonday sun
Be below me, the Rock I set my feet upon
Be beside me, the wind on my left and right
Be behind me, oh circle me with Your truth and light

I bind unto myself today
The love of Angels and Seraphim
The prayers and prophesies of Saints
The words and deeds of righteous men

God’s ear to hear me
God’s hand to guide me
God’s might to uphold me
God’s shield to hide me

Against all powers deceiving
Against my own unbelieving
Whether near or far I bind unto myself today
The hope to rise from the dust of earth

The songs of nature giving praise
To Father, Spirit, Living Word
The gift to call on the Trinity

I arise today through the strength of heaven
Light of sun, radiance of moon
Splendor of fire, speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind, depth of the sea
Stability of earth, firmness of rock

I arise today through God’s strength to pilot me
God’s eye to look before me
God’s wisdom to guide me
God’s way to lie before me
God’s shield to protect me

From all who shall wish me ill
Afar and a-near
Alone and in a multitude
Against every cruel, merciless power
That may oppose my body and soul

Christ with me, Christ before me
Christ behind me, Christ in me
Christ beneath me, Christ above me
Christ on my right, Christ on my left
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down
Christ when I arise, Christ to shield me

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me

I arise today. 
~St. Patrick’s Breastplate

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A-Sighing and A-Sobbing

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“Who killed Cock Robin?” “I,” said the Sparrow,
“With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.”
“Who saw him die?” “I,” said the Fly,
“With my little eye, I saw him die.”
“Who caught his blood?” “I,” said the Fish,
“With my little dish, I caught his blood.”
“Who’ll make the shroud?” “I,” said the Beetle,
“With my thread and needle, I’ll make the shroud.”
“Who’ll dig his grave?” “I,” said the Owl,
“With my pick and shovel, I’ll dig his grave.”
“Who’ll be the parson?” “I,” said the Rook,
“With my little book, I’ll be the parson.”
“Who’ll be the clerk?” “I,” said the Lark,
“If it’s not in the dark, I’ll be the clerk.”
“Who’ll carry the link?” “I,” said the Linnet,
“I’ll fetch it in a minute, I’ll carry the link.”
“Who’ll be chief mourner?” “I,” said the Dove,
“I mourn for my love, I’ll be chief mourner.”
“Who’ll carry the coffin?” “I,” said the Kite,
“If it’s not through the night, I’ll carry the coffin.”
“Who’ll bear the pall?” “We,” said the Wren,
“Both the cock and the hen, we’ll bear the pall.”
“Who’ll sing a psalm?” “I,” said the Thrush,
“As she sat on a bush, I’ll sing a psalm.”
“Who’ll toll the bell?” “I,” said the bull,
“Because I can pull, I’ll toll the bell.”
All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,
When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.
~Anonymous “Who Killed Cock Robin”

photo by Kate Steensma of Steensma Creamery
photo by Harry Rodenberger

Sighing and sobbing…

The times we live in now are surreal as this dark nursery tale rhyme about the killing of a robin by a smaller bird.

What do we do with the sparrow’s proud confession in the first stanza? Whatever happened to instigate such destructive violence?
Self-defense? Vengeance? Accident? Just for sport?
Or simple random cruelty?

Such boasting about a killing makes about as much sense as our being witness to the overt destruction of the rule of law taking place right under our noses in the U.S.

Hear the bell toll.
We are each diminished as citizens.
Let the mourning begin.
It is our own death we grieve…

Medieval Stained Glass of a robin shot by an arrow in Buckland Rectory, Gloucester, UK

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For Whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee…
~John Donne from “For Whom the Bell Tolls”

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Breaking Through

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Walking in February
A warm day after a long freeze
On an old logging road
Below Sumas Mountain
Cut a walking stick of alder,
Looked down through clouds
On wet fields of the Nooksack—
And stepped on the ice
Of a frozen pool across the road.
It creaked
The white air under
Sprang away, long cracks
Shot out in the black,
My cleated mountain boots
Slipped on the hard slick
—like thin ice—the sudden
Feel of an old phrase made real—
Instant of frozen leaf,
Icewater, and staff in hand.
“Like walking on thin ice—”
I yelled back to a friend,
It broke and I dropped
Eight inches in
~Gary Snyder “Thin Ice” from No Nature

Everyone is treading on thin ice right now, unsure where to go next.

The trouble with overheated action and rhetoric in the middle of winter is that we all end up at risk of breaking through, no matter where we try to tread.

When we allow ourselves to be put in such peril, when we hear the creak with each step as a warning, we deserve to be doused by the chilly waters beneath our feet.

Lord, have mercy on us as we call your name in our fear and distress.
Help us recognize the cracks forming with each step we take.

Put us on our knees before you and lead us to safety.
Only you know where we need to be rather than where we are.
You’ll be there to pull us out of the mess we’re in.

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Preparing Their Buds

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All the complicated details
of the attiring and
the disattiring are completed!
A liquid moon
moves gently among
the long branches.
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
~William Carlos Williams “Winter Trees”

Winter – a quiet, still time for trees,
a time for preparation for new attire,
a time for root-stretching and branch-reaching.

Unless there are windstorms
Unless there is frozen rain
Unless there is heavy burden of snowfall

A tree might be taken unawares in the night,
branches breaking like popping gunshots,
as if innocent prey is hunted.

Remnants lie waiting on the ground,
unaware of their brokenness,
still budding, hopeful for yet another spring.

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A Poem of the Air

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Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “Snow-Flakes”

Snowflakes cover all,
settling in around us,
drifting about the tucked corners
of a downy white comforter

Watching as heaven comes to earth,
plumps the pillows,
cushions the landscape,
and tries to lighten our grieving hearts.

I know dark clouds will gather ’round me
I know my way is hard and steep
But beauteous fields arise before me
Where God’s redeemed, their vigils keep
~from Wayfaring Stranger

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A Steady Center Holds

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Sometimes from sorrow, for no reason,
you sing. For no reason, you accept
the way of being lost, cutting loose
from all else and electing a world
where you go where you want to.

Arbitrary, a sound comes, a reminder
that a steady center is holding
all else. If you listen, that sound
will tell you where it is and you
can slide your way past trouble.

Certain twisted monsters
always bar the path—but that’s when
you get going best, glad to be lost,
learning how real it is
here on earth, again and again.
~William Stafford “Cutting Loose” from Dancing with Joy: 99 Poems

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst   
Are full of passionate intensity.
~William Butler Yeats from The Second Coming

Life is a hard battle anyway. If we laugh and sing a little as we fight the good fight of freedom, it makes it all go easier. I will not allow my life’s light to be determined by the darkness around me.
~Sojourner Truth

There are so many twists and turns in this life, we lose sight of the Center of all things. We don’t always know what is around the next corner. It can feel like things are falling apart, and we could be swallowed up.

Getting lost, tripping on rocks and falling into holes is part of reality. Bruises and scrapes remind us where we have been and what we have been through, yet we keep going.

We do not honor the arbitrary whims of bullies,
nor dim ourselves within the darkness where they dwell.

So we sing:

We shall overcome.
We’ll walk hand in hand.
We are not alone.
We are not afraid.
We shall all be free.
We shall live in peace.
Someday.

God will see us through.

Thank you to Parker Palmer and Carrie Newcomer who spoke about the Stafford poem “Cutting Loose” here

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Oh, deep in my heart
I do believe
We shall overcome some day

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Beginning an Uprising

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To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.
~Karl Barth

sunrise81144

Whatever happens.
Whatever
what is is
is what I want.
Only that.
But that.
~Galway Kinnell “Prayer”

sunrise10915

Ah — a resting place,
where we come to understand
it is not required of us
to wrestle constantly and passionately
with our God —
nor pursue relentlessly
all God’s decrees as we understand them,
but only that we listen and wonder
and hope and pray,
that we might, perhaps,
make just a little difference,
one quiet grey day.
~Edwina Gateley “Just a Little Difference”

There is much shouting and gnashing of teeth going on in our country right now – some from the streets, some from computer keyboards and screens, and some from inside the echoing halls of government and a certain white house.

We need to stop shouting and clasp hands in prayer.

Nothing can right the world until we are right with God through talking to Him out of our depth of need and fear. Nothing can right the world until we submit ourselves wholly, bowed low, hands clasped, eyes closed, articulating the joy, the thanks, and the petitions weighing on our hearts.

An uprising is only possible when our voice comes alive, unashamed, unselfconscious, rising up from within us, uttering words that beseech and thank and praise. To rise up with hands clasped together calls upon a power needing no billions of funds and no weapons of destruction and no walls to keep people in or keep them out.

He is the Word, come to overcome and overwhelm the shambles left of our world. Nothing can be more victorious than the Amen, our Amen, at the end of our prayers.

So be it and so shall it be.

Amen.
And again…Amen.

sunrise109151
original 1918 photo by Eric Engstrom
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Peace Rising in the Dark

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In winter, the earth remembers its hidden life;
a silence deepens that is not emptiness but preparation.
~Rowan Williams

When, in the middle of the night,
you wake with the certainty you’ve
done it all wrong, when you wake
and see clearly all the places you’ve failed,
in that moment, when dreams will not return,
this is the chance for your most gentle voice—
the one you reserve for those you love most—
to say to you quietly, oh sweetheart,
this is not yet the end of the story.
Sleep will not come, but somehow,
in that wide-awake moment there is peace—
the kind that does not need
everything to be right before it arrives.
The kind that comes from not fighting
what is real. The peace that rises
in the dark on its sure dark wings
and flies true with no moon, no stars.
~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer “With Astonishing Tenderness” from The Unfolding

Peaceful sleep has been elusive over the last 10 nights.

I realize a significant number of people are resting more easily. They celebrate an overwhelming number of rapid changes instituted by a new government administration over a few days.

I’m not among them.

Sweetheart, this is not yet the end of the story.
It never is.

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Learning the Hard Way

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There are three kinds of men.
The ones that learn by reading.
The few who learn by observation. 
The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.
~Will Rogers

We living creatures learn from the moment we take our first breath. We continue to learn until our last breath. With that lifetime of learning, one would think eventually we should find some semblance of wisdom.

But we don’t. We tend to learn the hard way especially when it comes to matters having to do with our (or others’) health and well-being.

Within a community, we want autonomy to do as we like, no matter what the science says. You’d think we’d know better, but as fallible human beings, we may impulsively make decisions about health issues. Is it evidence-based or simply an anecdotal story about what “worked” or “didn’t work” for someone else?

We’re facing at least four years of a new administration encouraging us all to “pee on the electric fence” and learn for ourselves rather than trust science. Careful research, years of observed experience, and plain common sense isn’t enough to trust public health and infectious disease experts to make wise recommendations about community and individual risk and prevention strategies.

The cows and horses on our farm need to touch an electric fence only once when reaching for greener grass on the other side. That moment provides a potent learning curve for them to make important future decisions. They won’t try testing it again no matter how alluring thngs appear on the other side. Humans should learn as quickly as animals but unfortunately don’t.

I know all too well what a shock feels like and I want to avoid repeating that experience.  Even so, in unguarded careless moments of feeling invulnerable (it can’t happen to me!) or annoyed at being told what I can and can’t do, or simply indulging in magical thinking, I find myself reaching for the greener grass. 

I suspect I’m not alone in my surprise when I’m jolted back to reality.

Many great minds have worked out various theories of effective learning, but, great mind or not, Will Rogers confirms a common sense suspicion: an adverse experience, like a “bolt out of the blue,” can be a powerful teacher. 

So we call peeing on an electric fence it “a teachable moment.”

Sadly, when we learn the hard way, it often ends up hurting everyone.

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