Perhaps she came down for the apples, or was flushed out by the saws powering the far woods, or was simply lost, or was crossing one open space for another.
She was a figure approaching, a presence outside a kitchen window, framed by the leafless apple trees, the stiff blueberry bushes, the after-harvest corn, the just-before-rain sky,
a shape only narrow bones could hold, turning its full face upward, head tilted to one side, as if to speak.
Everything changing faster than we can respond: loss of jobs, research halting mid-study, inconsistency abounds, families shattered, uncertainty prevails.
What happened to of the people, by the people, for the people rather than dictated by just a few
We are so lost, how to find our way back to caring for the poor, the weak, the vulnerable with a spirit of commitment, compassion and sacrifice.
For God alone – no one else – remains our strength and shield. Lost and afraid, we want our lives back.
We need His Refuge where we may rest. We seek Sanctuary from this darkness, to once again awaken hopeful to a new morning.
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The fields are snowbound no longer; There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green. The snow has been caught up into the sky— So many white clouds—and the blue of the sky is cold. Now the sun walks in the forest, He touches the boughs and stems with his golden fingers; They shiver, and wake from slumber. Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls. … Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears…. A wind dances over the fields. Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter, Yet the little blue lakes tremble And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver. ~Katherine Mansfield “Very Early Spring”
You might say that clouds have no nationality Being flags of no country, flaunting their innocent neutrality Across frontiers, ignorant of boundaries; But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter Against the blue cloth of the sky I want to rummage among them, I want to turn them over With eager fingers, I want to bargain For this one or that one, I want to haggle and dicker Over the prices, and I want to see my clouds wrapped up In sheets of old newspapers, and give them away To young girls to pin in their hair Or tuck them, glossy as gardenias, behind an ear, Or stretch one out to the length of a lacy shawl And toss it over a shoulder, or around a waist. ~Constance Urdang “Clouds”
Our farm sits about 9 miles from an international border. The sky and clouds are oblivious to the line drawn by two governments, and don’t bother to stop at the border stations controlling access of humans across that line.
The clouds are free to go where they please, so they do, while we watch. They are both a foreign and domestic cloud of witnesses to our earthbound follies and foolishness.
No passports or IDs, no being pulled into “secondary” for more intensive searches and questioning, no being “turned back” not allowed across, no deportations.
They simply float and glide where the breezes take them, assuming whatever shape, identity or characteristics they wish.
What a beautiful day in the neighborhood if one happens to be a cloud or a cloud of witnesses…
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Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east. ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins from “The Wreck of the Deutschland”
There is a fragrance in the air, a certain passage of a song, an old photograph falling out from the pages of a book, the sound of somebody’s voice in the hall that makes your heart leap and fills your eyes with tears. Who can say when or how it will be that something easters up out of the dimness to remind us of a time before we were born and after we will die?
All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born. ~William Butler Yeats from “Easter, 1916”
So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it. Denounce the government and embrace the flag. Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands. Give your approval to all you cannot understand. Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Go with your love to the fields. Lie down in the shade. Rest your head in her lap. Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts. As soon as the generals and the politicos can predict the motions of your mind, lose it. Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn’t go. Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection. ~Wendell Berry from Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
It had been a slow coming of spring this year, seeming in no hurry whatsoever. Snow has remained in the foothills and the greening of the fields only begun.
Bravely, flowering plum and cherry trees burst into bloom despite a continued chill, and the pink dogwood and apple blossoms are now emerging. The perfumed air of spring permeates the dawn.
Such variability is disorienting, much like standing blinded in a sudden spotlight in a darkened room, practicing resurrection.
Yet this is exactly what eastering is like. It is awakening out of a restless sleep, opening a door to let in fresh fragrant air, and the heavy stone locking us in the dark is rolled back.
Overnight all changed, and changed utterly.
He is not only risen. He is given indeed.
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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… ~William Butler Yeats from “The Second Coming”
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline.
Here is a place of disaffection Time before and time after In a dim light: neither daylight Investing form with lucid stillness Turning shadow into transient beauty With slow rotation suggesting permanence Nor darkness to purify the soul Emptying the sensual with deprivation Cleansing affection from the temporal. Neither plentitude nor vacancy. ~T.S. Eliot from “Burnt Norton” The Four Quartets
Here at the very centre of all things, Here at the meeting place of love and loss We all foresee, and see beyond the cross. ~Malcolm Guite from “The Anointing at Bethany”
For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for burial. And truly, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her. Mark 14:7-9
This Wednesday is a long way from Ash Wednesday, but all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes — we begin this day with that taste of ash in our mouth: of failed hope and broken promises…
On this Wednesday, we submit our ashen way to you — you Easter parade of newness. Before the sun sets, take our Wednesday and Easter us, Easter us to joy and energy and courage and freedom; Easter us that we may be fearless for your truth. Come here and Easter our Wednesday with mercy and justice and peace and generosity. We pray as we wait for the Risen One who comes soon. ~Walter Brueggeman from “Marked By Ashes”
Jesus makes clear Who is at the center of our salvation. It is our faith and belief in Him, rather than good works we do.
Jesus’ response to Mary of Bethany’s anointing of His feet before He enters Jerusalem carries parallel messages for us all.
Mary acts out of faith even as she confronts the painful reality of Jesus’ predictions of His death and burial. Mary believes what His disciples refuse to hear.
Jesus prays later to have the reality of His suffering lifted from Him, but in obedience, He perseveres out of faith and love for the Father.
Mary acts out of steadfast love for the Master, showing single-minded devotion in the face of criticism from the disciples.
Jesus, on the cross, shows forgiveness and love even while his enemies deride and execute Him.
Mary acts out of significant personal sacrifice–pouring costly perfume worth a full year’s wages–showing her commitment to the living Christ who is here and now before her.
Jesus willingly gives the ultimate sacrifice of Himself–there is no higher price to pay.
Mary responds to His need for compassion and His response clearly shows He is deeply moved by her action.
Jesus, as man Himself, recognizes humanity’s need to be saved, and puts Himself in our place. We respond, incredulous, putting Him first in our lives.
Mary did what she could in the middle of this Holy Week to ease His distress at what He would soon confront.
She did what she could for Him – humbly, beautifully, simply, sacrificially.
And so we remember Mary as the harbinger of His suffering and death, just as He said we would.
She did what she could — as should we.
stained glass from Meyers Studio, Munich 1899
This year’s Lenten theme:
…where you go I will go… Ruth 1:16
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To invite Jesus to cleanse the temple of our hearts is not to ask for guilt and shame. It is to ask for healing. The same Lord who overturned tables did so not to destroy and humiliate, but to reclaim and restore. He interrupts only that which obstructs. He removes only that which hinders life and worship. His cleansing is never punitive; it is always redemptive. ~Scott Sauls from “What Would Jesus Overturn in Your Life?”
To live coram Deo is to live one’s entire life in the presence of God, under the authority of God, to the glory of God. To live in the presence of God is to understand that whatever we are doing and wherever we are doing it, we are acting under the gaze of God.
There is no place so remote that we can escape His penetrating gaze. To live all of life coram Deo is to live a life of integrity. It is a life of wholeness that finds its unity and coherency in the majesty of God.
Our lives are to be living sacrifices, oblations offered in a spirit of adoration and gratitude.
A fragmented life is a life of disintegration. It is marked by inconsistency, disharmony, confusion, conflict, contradiction, and chaos. Coram Deo … before the face of God. …a life that is open before God. …a life in which all that is done is done as to the Lord. …a life lived by principle, not expediency; by humility before God, not defiance. ~R.C. Sproulfrom “What Does “coram Deo” mean?”
We cannot escape His gaze…all of us, all colors, shapes and sizes… Created in His image, imago dei, so He looks at us as His reflections in the mirror of the world.
What we do, how we speak, how we treat others reflects the face of God. Jesus is the embodied temple, bringing His sacrifice to the people, rather than people coming to the temple with their sacrifices.
I cringe to think how we hide from His gaze. All I see around me and within me is: inconsistency, dishonesty, disharmony, confusion, conflict, contradiction, and chaos.
Everywhere, everyone is saying: only I know what is best.
We call hypocrisy on one another, holding fast to moral high ground when the reality is: we drown together in the mud of our mutual guilt and lack of humility. All that we have done to others, we have done to God Himself.
It is time for us to be on our knees asking for cleansing, for the temples of our hearts to be overturned, our corruption scattered.
Jesus comes to cleanse, repair, reclaim and restore – us.
Kind of takes one’s breath away.
This year’s Lenten theme:
…where you go I will go… Ruth 1:16
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VERSE 1 It is not death to die To leave this weary road And join the saints who dwell on high Who’ve found their home with God It is not death to close The eyes long dimmed by tears And wake in joy before Your throne Delivered from our fears CHORUS O Jesus, conquering the grave Your precious blood has power to save Those who trust in You Will in Your mercy find That it is not death to die VERSE 2 It is not death to fling Aside this earthly dust And rise with strong and noble wing To live among the just It is not death to hear The key unlock the door That sets us free from mortal years T To praise You evermore Original words by Henri Malan (1787-1864). Translated by George Bethune (1847)
Angels, where you soar Up to God’s own light Take my own lost bird On your hearts tonight; And as grief once more Mounts to heaven and sings Let my love be heard Whispering in your wings
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‘Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself.’ is. xlv. 15.
God, though to Thee our psalm we raise No answering voice comes from the skies; To Thee the trembling sinner prays But no forgiving voice replies; Our prayer seems lost in desert ways, Our hymn in the vast silence dies.
We see the glories of the earth But not the hand that wrought them all: Night to a myriad worlds gives birth, Yet like a lighted empty hall Where stands no host or door or hearth Vacant creation’s lamps appal.
We guess; we clothe Thee, unseen King, With attributes we deem are meet; Each in his own imagining Sets up a shadow in Thy seat; Yet know not how our gifts to bring, Where seek thee with unsandalled feet.
And still th’unbroken silence broods While ages and while aeons run, As erst upon chaotic floods The Spirit hovered ere the sun Had called the seasons’ changeful moods And life’s first germs from death had won.
And still th’abysses infinite Surround the peak from which we gaze. Deep calls to deep and blackest night Giddies the soul with blinding daze That dares to cast its searching sight On being’s dread and vacant maze.
And Thou art silent, whilst Thy world Contends about its many creeds And hosts confront with flags unfurled And zeal is flushed and pity bleeds And truth is heard, with tears impearled, A moaning voice among the reeds.
My hand upon my lips I lay; The breast’s desponding sob I quell; I move along life’s tomb-decked way And listen to the passing bell Summoning men from speechless day To death’s more silent, darker spell.
Oh! till Thou givest that sense beyond, To shew Thee that Thou art, and near, Let patience with her chastening wand Dispel the doubt and dry the tear; And lead me child-like by the hand; If still in darkness not in fear.
Speak! whisper to my watching heart One word—as when a mother speaks Soft, when she sees her infant start, Till dimpled joy steals o’er its cheeks. Then, to behold Thee as Thou art, I’ll wait till morn eternal breaks. ~Gerard Manley Hopkins “Nondum (Not Yet)”
There is great darkness right now in our country’s leadership, spilling shadows over the rest of the world.
Each day brings a new proclamation of presumed earthly power, exacting great cost to those who are most vulnerable and powerless.
Though it may seem God is silent, He is not.
God broods, as do parents who protect their offspring. He hears the cries of His people who are harmed and helpless. He will respond, and His children understand we are still in the “not yet” of His kingdom on earth, and we wait for His return to set all things right.
This year’s Lenten theme:
…where you go I will go… Ruth 1:16
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Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am. Be still and know. Be still. Be.
Down Cathedral, Downpatrick, IrelandSt. Patrick’s grave marker
I rise today in the power’s strength, invoking the Trinity believing in threeness, confessing the oneness, of creation’s Creator.
I rise today in heaven’s might, in sun’s brightness, in moon’s radiance, in fire’s glory, in lightning’s quickness, in wind’s swiftness, in sea’s depth, in earth’s stability, in rock’s fixity.
I rise today with the power of God to pilot me, God’s strength to sustain me, God’s wisdom to guide me, God’s eye to look ahead for me, God’s ear to hear me, God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to protect me, God’s way before me, God’s shield to defend me, God’s host to deliver me, from snares of devils, from evil temptations, from nature’s failings, from all who wish to harm me, far or near, alone and in a crowd.
Around me I gather today all these powers against every cruel and merciless force to attack my body and soul.
May Christ protect me today against poison and burning, against drowning and wounding, so that I may have abundant reward; Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me; Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me; Christ to the right of me, Christ to the left of me; Christ in my lying, Christ in my sitting, Christ in my rising; Christ in the heart of all who think of me, Christ on the tongue of all who speak to me, Christ in the eye of all who see me, Christ in the ear of all who hear me.
For to the Lord belongs salvation, and to the Lord belongs salvation and to Christ belongs salvation. May your salvation, Lord, be with us always.
—”Saint Patrick’s Breastplate,” Old Irish, eighth-century prayer.
Six years a slave, and then you slipped the yoke, Till Christ recalled you, through your captors cries! Patrick, you had the courage to turn back, With open love to your old enemies, Serving them now in Christ, not in their chains, Bringing the freedom He gave you to share. You heard the voice of Ireland, in your veins Her passion and compassion burned like fire.
Now you rejoice amidst the three-in-one, Refreshed in love and blessing all you knew, Look back on us and bless us, Ireland’s son, And plant the staff of prayer in all we do: A gospel seed that flowers in belief, A greening glory, coming into leaf. ~Malcolm Guite — A St. Patrick Sonnet
Every year on March 17, St. Patrick is little remembered for his selfless missionary work in Ireland in the fifth century. We visited his grave in Downpatrick, Ireland some years ago. It is a humble stone fixed upon on a hilltop next to Down Cathedral overlooking the sea.
I wondered what he would make of how this day, dubbed with his name, is celebrated now in the United States.
Perhaps Patrick would observe we have lost sight of our commitment to faith and purpose in our rush to be the first, greatest, wealthiest, and most dominant.
Patrick, in his prayer, urges us instead to know only God as the power of protection in our lives, knowing our human weakness and need for salvation.
He would advise us to be still and know. Be still. Be
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This year’s Lenten theme:
…where you go I will go… Ruth 1:16
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Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man. Colossians 4: 6
Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, with all malice,and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4: 31-32
You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Matthew 5:43-45
And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun. It sees and knows everything. It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing. The door to the mind should only open from the heart. An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend. ~Joy Harjo “This Morning I Pray For My Enemies”
I have a heart full of questions Quieting all my suggestions What is the meaning of Christian In this American life?
Is there a way to love always? Living in enemy hallways Don’t know my foes from my friends and Don’t know my friends anymore Power has several prizes Handcuffs can come in all sizes Love has a million disguises But winning is simply not one ~Jon Guerra from “Citizens”
…{His is} the love for the enemy– love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured’s love for the torturer. This is God’s love. It conquers the world. ~Frederich Buechner from The Magnificent Defeat
After watching the appalling ambush of disrespect and rudeness by our country’s two leaders in the Oval Office yesterday toward visiting Ukrainian President Zelenskyy, I find myself gnashing my teeth in anger.
Now – who indeed is the friend, and who is the enemy?
This was not the time or forum for a public, rather than private high stakes discussion: the presence of cameras encourages bullies to have their say in front of a vast audience, determined to intimidate in order to “make good television.”
Simply agreeing to disagree on some issues in a difficult negotiation no longer seems an option. Why can’t a debate honor the other side enough to facilitate a civil discussion? Instead, if someone doesn’t see it your way, they’re perceived as ungrateful, morally deficient, hostile or worst of all, they have become the enemy.
But Ukraine is not the enemy and never wants to be. They want to remain whole and free to govern themselves and need help to withstand the attacks of their neighborhood bully.
Those of us who have been around awhile know: bellowing hateful words puts a match to angry feelings that burn hot inside and outside. Usually a fruitful political debate over polarizing opinions can inspire a profound sense of purpose and compromise, yet if there is no respect or honor shown, it burns to ashes.
I disagree vehemently with what our leaders are doing and in particular, the boorish and foolish way they are doing it. Their school yard behavior is a far cry from the biblical command to exhibit grace and compassion instead of hostility and retribution.
Fickle things are those angry words – someone lights a match to them, keeps stoking the fire with new fuel, over and over again until nothing remains standing.
Let us refuse to be the kindling as our leaders seek our attention daily by inflicting more trauma and angst, not just to the citizens of Ukraine and Europe, but to the U.S. citizens to whom they are ultimately accountable.
Let us resist our own angry gnashing of teeth by praying that only God’s transforming love for enemies can soften the hearts and minds of the bullies of the world.
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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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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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