Season of the Soul: Lent 4

Lenten Theme:
What is a fool for Christ

Fool Prayer

by Beth McLean

inspired by the Ash Wednesday Liturgy

from A Prayer Book for Australia.

Lord, make me a ‘fool’ for you.
Lord of mercy and compassion, help me to see as you see.

Give me courage to stand up for justice,

to support those who are oppressed, unwanted, despised.

Help me to find you in all I meet,

let me be not afraid of derision or scorn

for your sake and for the sake of your children.

Transform me.

Readings:
Joshua 5:2-12

Psalm 32

2 Corintians 5:16-21

Luke 15:11-32

To-day's reading of the Good News of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ

tells the parable (story used by Jesus to teach people) of the Prodigal Son.

And he said, "There was a man who had two sons; and the younger of them said to his father, `Father, give me the share of property that falls to me.' And he divided his living between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took his journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in loose living. And when he had spent everything, a great famine arose in that country, and he began to be in want. So he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have fed on the pods that the swine ate; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, `How many of my father's hired servants have bread enough and to spare, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants."' And he arose and came to his father. But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, `Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his servants, `Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet; and bring the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and make merry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' And they began to make merry."Now his elder son was in the field; and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what this meant. And he said to him, `Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has received him safe and sound.' But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, `Lo, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf!' And he said to him, `Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.'"

For those interested in comparative religious studies or inter-faith dialogue, this site is interesting for its discussion of the Prodigal Son in the Christian tradition and in the Buddhist tradition. Very interesting!

Season of the Soul: The Sacrifice (4)

THE SACRIFICE
(Continued)
Behold, they spit on me in scornful wise,
Who by my spittle gave the blind man eyes,
Leaving his blindness to my enemies:
Was ever grief like mine?

My face they cover, thought it be divine.
As Moses face was veiled, so is mine,
Lest on their double-dark souls either shine:
Was ever grief like mine?

Servants and cast offs mock me; they are witty:
Now prophesy who strikes thee, is their ditty.
So they in me deny themselves all pity:
Was ever grief like mine?

And now I am delivered unto death,
Which each one calls for so with utmost breath,
That he before me well nigh suffereth:
Was ever grief like mine?

Weep not, dear friends, since I for both have wept
When all my tears were blood, the while you slept:
Your tears for your own fortunes should be kept:
Was ever grief like mine?

The soldiers lead me to the Common Hall;
There they deride me, they abuse me all:
Yet for twelve heavenly legions I could call:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then with a scarlet robe they me array;
Which shows my blood to be the only way
And cordial left to repair man's decay:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then on my head a crown of thorns I wear:
For these are all the grapes Zion does bear,
Though I my vine planted and watered there:
Was ever grief like mine?

So sits the earth’s great curse in Adam’s fall
Upon my head: so I remove it all
From th’ earth unto my brows, and bear the thrall:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then with the reed they gave to me before,
They strike my head, the rock from thence all store
Of heavenly blessings issue evermore:
Was ever grief like mine?

George Herbert

Season of the Soul: Even-Song

Sunset at The Nine Mile photographed by Brigid Walsh

Even-song
Blest be the God of love,
Who gave us eyes, and light, and power this day,
Both to be busy, and to play.
But much more blest be God above,
Who gave me sight alone,
Which to himself he did deny:
For when he sees my ways, I die:
But I have got his son, and he has none.

What have I brought you home
For this your love? have I discharged the debt,
Which this day's favor did beget?
I ran; but all I brought, was foam.
Your diet, care, and cost
Do end in bubbles, balls of wind;
Of wind to you whom I have crossed,
But balls of wild-fire to my troubled mind.

Yet still you have gone on,
And now with darkness closest weary eyes,
Saying to man, "It does suffice:
Henceforth repose; your work is done."
Thus in your ebony box
You do enclose us, till the day
Put our amendment in our way,
And give new wheels to our disordered clocks.

I muse, which shows more love,
The day or night: that is the gale, this th' harbor;
That is the walk, and this the arbor;
Or that the garden, this the grove.
My God, you are all love.
Not one poor minute 'scapes your breast,
But brings a favor from above;
And in this love, more than in bed, I rest.

George Herbert

Season of the Soul: Justice

JUSTICE (1)

I cannot make sense of your ways.
Lord, you did make me, yet you woundest me;
Lord, you do wound me, yet you do relieve me:
Lord, you relievest, yet I die by thee:
Lord, you do kill me, yet you do reprieve me.

But when I mark my life and praise,
Your justice me most fitly pays:

For, I do praise you, yet I praise you not:
My prayers mean you, yet my prayers stray:
I would do well, yet sin the hand has got:
My soul does love you, yet It loves delay.
I cannot value these my ways.

George Herbert

Season of the Soul: Lent 3 - Mi-careme

Miss Eagle had never heard of Mi-careme until to-night when she was reading a post on The Old Foodie's blog. And what a wonderful post for the third week of Lent. Mi-careme, where the tradition has been practised or upheld, marks the midway point in Lent when people are half-way through the Lenten fast.

For one night there is a reprieve or a hiatus when people enjoy themselves. In its modern form, Mi-careme has taken on a carnival atmosphere, masks and all.

Season of the Soul: Nature

Photo by Denis Wilson of The Nature of Robertson

NATURE

Full of rebellion, I would die
Or fight, or travel, or deny
That you ought to do with me.
O tame my heart;
It is your highest art
To captivate strong holds to thee.

If you shall let this venom lurk,
And in suggestions fume and work,
My soul will turn to bubbles straight,
And then by kind
Vanish into a wind,
Making your workmanship deceit.

O smooth my rugged heart, and there
Engrave your rev'rend Law and fear;
Or make a new one, since the old
Is sapless grown,
And a much fitter stone
To hide my dust, than you to hold.

George Herbert

Season of the Soul: The Pearl

The Hope Pearl, a 450-carat natural pearl that was owned by nineteenth-century gem collector Henry Phillip Hope. Loaned by Christie's. (Chip Clark / Smithsonian) Click image to enlarge.

The Pearl.

Matthew 13: 45



I know the ways of Learning; both the head
And pipes that feed the press, and make it run;
What reason has from nature borrowed,
Or of it self, like a good housewife, spun
In laws and policy; what the stars conspire,
What willing nature speaks, what forced by fire;
Both th' old discoveries, and the new-found seas,
The stock and surplus, cause and history:
All these stand open, or I have the keys:
Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of Honor, what maintains
The quick returns of courtesy and wit:
In vies of favors whether party gains,
When glory swells the heart, and molding it
To all expressions both of hand and eye,
Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie,
And bear the bundle, wheresoe'er it goes:
How many drams of spirit there must be
To sell my life unto my friends or foes:
Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of Pleasure, the sweet strains,
The lullings and the relishes of it;
The propositions of hot blood and brains;
What mirth and music mean; what love and wit
Have done these twenty hundred years, and more:
I know the projects of unbridled store:
My stuff is flesh, not brass; my senses live,
And grumble oft, that they have more in me
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five:
Yet I love thee.

I know all these, and have them in my hand:
Therefore not sealéd, but with open eyes
I fly to you, and fully understand
Both the main sale, and the commodities;
And at what rate and price I have your love;
With all the circumstances that may move:
Yet through these labyrinths, not my groveling wit,
But your silk twist let down from heaven to me,
Did both conduct and teach me, how by it
To climb to thee.
George Herbert

Season of the Soul: An Offering

An Offering
Come, bring your gift. If blessings were as slow
As men's returns, what would become of fools?
What have you there? a heart? but is it pure?
Search well and see; for hearts have many holes.
Yet one pure heart is nothing to bestow:
In Christ two natures met to be your cure.


O that within us hearts had propagation,
Since many gifts do challenge many hearts!
Yet one, if good, may title to a number;
And single things grow fruitful by desserts.
In public judgments one may be a nation,
And fence a plague, while others sleep and slumber.

But all I fear is lest your heart displease,
As neither good, nor one: so oft divisions
Your lusts have made, and not your lusts alone;
Your passions also have their set partitions.
These parcel out your heart: recover these,
And you may offer many gifts in one.

There is a balsam, or indeed a blood,
Dropping from heaven, which does both cleanse and close
All sorts of wounds; of such strange force it is.
Seek out this All-heal, and seek no repose,
Until you find and use it to your good:
Then bring your gift, and let your hymn be this;

Since my sadness
Into gladness
Lord you do convert,
O accept
What you have kept,
As your due dessert.

Had I many,
Had I any,
(For this heart is none)
All were thine
And none of mine:
Surely yours alone.

Yet your favor
May give savor
To this poor oblation;
And it raise
To be your praise,
And be my salvation.
George Herbert

Season of the Soul: Lent 3

Lenten Theme:
What is a fool for Christ

Fool Prayer

by Beth McLean

inspired by the Ash Wednesday Liturgy

from A Prayer Book for Australia.

Lord, make me a ‘fool’ for you.
Jesus, who has shown us how to really forgive,

who has travelled to death and back for our sake.

I pray that you will show me

how to forgive wholeheartedly and unreservedly.

How to love unconditionally.

How to show your love to others.

Transform me.

Readings:

Isaiah 55:1-9

Psalm 63:1-9

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Luke 13:31-35

To-day's reading of the Good News of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ tells of the Jesus sending a message to Herod, his prophetic visit to Jerusalem, and his brooding over Jerusalem.

On that very day some Pharisees came, saying to Him, “Get out and depart from here, for Herod wants to kill You.”

And He said to them, “Go, tell that fox, ‘Behold, I cast out demons and perform cures today and tomorrow, and the third day I shall be perfected.’

Nevertheless I must journey today, tomorrow, and the day following; for it cannot be that a prophet should perish outside of Jerusalem.
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing! See! Your house is left to you desolate; and assuredly, I say to you, you shall not see Me until the time comes when you say,

‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’”(NKJV)

The picture of the broody hen comes from Irenic Thoughts. For a commentary on to-day's gospel passage go to this post by Rev Frank Logue of King of Peace Episcopal Church, Kingsland, Georgia, USA.

The Name above all other names

JESU

Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name
Is deeply carvéd there: but th' other week
A great affliction broke the little frame,
Even all to pieces: which I went to seek:
And first I found the corner, where was J,
After, where ES, and next where U was 'graved,
When I had got these parcels, instantly
I sat me down to spell them, and perceived
That to my broken heart he was I ease you,
And to the whole is JESU.

George Herbert

Tributes for Kings: Kevin Rolly's The Stations of the Cross

Station 7 - Jesus Falls for the Second Time - Kevin Rolly

The Stations of the Cross is a very old Christian tradition. It is a meditative practice on the journey of Jesus to the Cross. Traditionally, it comprises 14 stations or places of reflection ending with the burial of Jesus in the borrowed tomb. Some modern renditions include a new Station 15 - The Resurrection.

Miss Eagle has discovered a modern reworking of The Stations: a magnificent, creative, poetic, reflective and challenging reworking. It is the work of Kevin Rolly and was performed at Asbury Theological Seminary, Kentucky, USA. Please take time for a reflective journey with Kevin Rolly and his collaborators. In the words of Kevin Rolly:

The Stations of the Cross traditionally end with the Burial in the Tomb.

We are left to contemplate the ultimate sacrifice that Jesus made and to wait in expectation of the resurrection.

This moment however is rarely depicted in art.

It is my contention that Good Friday and the Resurrection are inextricably woven together,

but in modern culture we tend to emphasize one over the other.

To dwell only in the Resurrection is to neglect the battle that was won for the sake of love.

I argue that the Resurrection loses it's deeper meaning without the believers' conscious passage through the walk to the cross and to truly know the cost of that victory.

In culture we end up with only rainbows and light which ignores the very real darkness.

We end up with kitsch.

To dwell only in Good Friday slowly leads us to feel the burden of guilt already paid for by the cross.

We are left as the the disciples were on that day...depressed and never knowing the victory.

Life is both light and dark.

But in the end it is the victory in which we are left having known the journey there.

That is the true Way of the Cross.

Seasons of the Soul: The Sacrifice (3)

10th Station of the Cross - Jesus is stripped of His garments - Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Spain

THE SACRIFICE (3)
I answer nothing, but with patience prove
If stony hearts will melt with gentle love.
But who does hawk at eagles with a dove?
Was ever grief like mine.

My silence rather does augment their cry;
My dove does back into my bosom fly,
Because the raging waters still are high:
Was ever grief like mine.

Hear how they cry aloud still, Crucify:
It is not fit he live a day, they cry,
Who cannot live less than eternally:
Was ever grief like mine.

Pilate, a stranger, holdeth off; but they,
Mine own dear people, cry, Away, away,
With noises confused frighting the day:
Was ever grief like mine.

Yet still they shout, and cry, and stop their ears,
Putting my life among their sins and fears,
And therefore wish my blood on them and theirs:
Was ever grief like mine.

See how spite cankers things. These words aright
Used, and wished, are the whole world's light:
But honey is their gall, brightness their night:
Was ever grief like mine.

They choose a murderer, and all agree
In him to do themselves a courtesy:
For it was their own case who killéd me:
Was ever grief like mine.

And a seditious murderer he was:
But I the Prince of peace; peace that does pass
All understanding, more than heaven does glass:
Was ever grief like mine.

Why, Caesar is their only King, not I:
He split the stony rock, when they were dry;
But surely not their hearts, as I well try:
Was ever grief like mine.

Ah! how they scourge me! yet my tenderness
Doubles each lash: and yet their bitterness
Winds up my grief to a mysteriousness:
Was ever grief like mine.

They buffet him, and box him as they list,
Who grasps the earth and heaven with his fist,
And never yet, whom he would punish, missed:
Was ever grief like mine.

George Herbert

Damien L'Homme (formerly attributed to Sébastien Stoskopff): The Great Vanity Still-life - detail (1641, Oil on canvas)

Vanity (I)

The fleet Astronomer can bore,
And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind:
He views their stations, walks from door to door,
Surveys, as if he had designed
To make a purchase there: he sees their dances,
And knoweth long before
Both their full-eyed aspects, and secret glances.

The nimble Diver with his side
Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch
His dearly-earnéd pearl, which God did hide
On purpose from the vent'rous wretch:
That he might save his life, and also hers,
Who with excessive pride
Her own destruction and his danger wears.

The subtle Chemist can divest
And strip the creature naked, till he find
The callow principles within their nest:
There he imparts to them his mind,
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before
They appear trim and dressed
To ordinary suitors at the door.

What has not man sought out and found,
But his dear God? who yet His glorious law
Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground
With showers and frosts, with love & awe,
So that we need not say, Where's this command?
Poor man, you search around
To find out death, but miss your life at hand.

George Herbert

A Sign to guard and guide

Tradition and story, ritual and re-telling in the many facets of human existence help us to remember and keep to what is important. Whether it is grandmotherly recipes or the nuances of faith, tradition and ritual can have great value. Lent is a time of remembering our origins and our traditions and bringing us back to them. Of such is the Christian tradition of making the Sign of the Cross. In the main, the sign is associated with Catholic and Orthodox traditions. In the Reformed traditions of Western Christianity, it is maintained in the Anglican and Lutheran traditions.

But perhaps the Sign of the Cross is about to make a comeback. The evangelical magazine, Christianity To-day, has published an article which includes two book reviews on the topic.

Miss Eagle would like to bring to remembrance the Catholic tradition of the triple sign of the cross when standing to receive the Gospel. The triple sign of the cross is made with the thumb by tracing a cross on the forehead; on the lips; and on the sternum. As this is done the following words are said:

The Word be in my head

The Word be on my lips

The Word be in my heart

Season of the Soul: Ungratefulness

Gratefulness

Hannah presents Samuel to Eli

1 Samuel 1:26-28

Stained glass window

St Peter's Anglican Church,

Glenelg, South Australia

UNGRATEFULNESS

Lord, with what bounty and rare clemency
Have you redeemed us from the grave!
If you had let us run,
Gladly had man adored the sun,
And thought his god most brave;
Where now we shall be better gods than he.

You have but two rare cabinets full of treasure,
The Trinity, and Incarnation:
You have unlocked them both,
And made them jewels to betroth
The work of your creation
Unto your self in everlasting pleasure.

The statelier cabinet is the Trinity,
Whose sparkling light access denies:
Therefore you do not show
This fully to us, till death blow
The dust into our eyes:
For by that powder you wilt make us see.

But all your sweets are packed up in the other;
Your mercies thither flock and flow:
That as the first affrights,
This may allure us with delights;
Because this box we know;
For we have all of us just such another.

But man is close, reserved, and dark to thee:
When you demandest but a heart,
He cavils instantly.
In his poor cabinet of bone
Sins have their box apart,
Defrauding you, who gave us two for one.

An absent God?

From Beginning to Pray by Archbishop Anthony Bloom. 1970, New York. Paulist press
Excerpted from Chapter I – The Absence of God
….
When God breaks through to us or when we break through to God, in certain exceptional circumstances, either because things suddenly disclose themselves with a depth we have never before perceived or when we suddenly discover in ourselves a depth where prayer abides and out of which it can gush forth, there is no problem in prayer. When we are aware of God, we stand before Him, worship Him, speak to Him.

At the outset there is, then, one very important problem: the situation of one for whom God seems to be absent. … Obviously I am not speaking of a real absence – God is never really absent – but of the sense of absence which we have. We stand before God and we shout into an empty sky, out of which there is no reply. We turn in all directions and He is not to be found. What ought we to think of this situation?

First of all, it is very important to remember that prayer is an encounter and a relationship, a relationship which is deep, and this relationship cannot be forced either on us or on God. The fact that God can make Himself present or can leave us with the sense of His absence is part of this live and real relationship. If we could mechanically draw Him into an encounter, force Him to meet us, simply because we have chosen this moment to meet Him, there would be no relationship and no encounter. We can do that with an image, with the imagination, or with the various idols we can put in front of us instead of God; we can do nothing of the sort with the living God, any more than we can do it with a living person. A relationship must begin and develop in mutual freedom.
….
The second very important thing is that a meeting face to face with God is always a moment of judgment for us. We cannot meet God in prayer or in meditation or in contemplation and not be either saved or condemned. I do not mean this in major terms of eternal damnation or eternal salvation already given and received, but it is always a critical moment, a crisis. ‘Crisis’ comes from the Greek and means ‘judgment’. To meet God face to face in prayer is a critical moment in our lives, and thanks be to Him that He does not always present Himself to us when we wish to meet Him, because we might not be able to endure such a meeting. …. He gives us a chance to judge ourselves, to understand, and not to come into His presence at a moment when it would mean condemnation.
….
As long as we ourselves are real, as long as we are truly ourselves, God can be present and can do something with us. But the moment we try to be what we are not, there is nothing left to say or have; we become a fictitious personality, an unreal presence, and this unreal presence cannot be approached by God.
….
In order to be able to pray, we must be within the situation which is defined as the kingdom of God. We must recognise that He is God, that He is King, we must surrender to Him. We must at least be concerned with His will, even if we are not yet capable of fulfilling it. But if we are not, if we treat God like the rich young man who could not follow Christ because he was too rich, then how can we meet Him? So often what we would like to have through prayer, through the deep relationship with God which we long for, is simply another period of happiness; we are not prepared to sell all that we have in order to buy the pearl of great price.
….
So when we think of the absence of God, is it not worth while to ask ourselves whom we blame for it? We always blame God, we always accuse Him, either straight to His face or in front of people, of being absent, of never being there when He is needed, never answering when He is addressed. At times we are more ‘pious’ (very much in inverted commas), and we say piously, ‘God is testing my patience, my faith, my humility.’ We find all sorts of ways of turning God’s judgment on us into a new way of praising ourselves. We are so patient that we can put up even with God!
….
What we must start with, if we wish to pray, is the certainty that we are sinners in need of salvation, that we are cut off from God and that we cannot live without Him and that all we can offer God is our desperate longing to be made such that God will receive us, receive us in repentance, receive us with mercy and with love. And so from the outset prayer is really our humble ascent towards God, a moment when we turn Godwards, shy of coming near, knowing that if we meet Him too soon, before His grace has had time to help us to be capable of meeting Him, it will be judgment. And all we can do is to turn to Him with all the reverence, all the veneration, the worshipful adoration, the fear of God of which we are capable, with all the attention and earnestness which we may possess, and ask Him to do something with us that will make us capable of meeting Him face to face, not for judgment, nor for condemnation, but for eternal life.
….
Try and think about the absence of God, and do realise that before you can knock at the door – and remember that it is not only at the door of the Kingdom understood in the general way, but that Christ really says ‘I am the door’ – before you knock at the door, you must realise that you are outside. If you spend your time imagining that in a mad way you are already in the kingdom of God, there is certainly no point in knocking at any door for it to be opened. Obviously, you must look round trying to see where are the angels and the saints, and where the mansion is which belongs to you, and when you see nothing but darkness or wall, you can quite legitimately find it surprising that Paradise is so unattractive. We must all realise that we are not yet in it, that we are still outsiders to the kingdom of God, and then ask ourselves ‘Where is the door and how does one knock at it?’

Seasons of the Soul: The Thanksgiving

The Thanksgiving
Oh King of grief! (a title strange, yet true,
To you of all kings only due)
Oh King of wounds! how shall I grieve for thee,
Who in all grief preventest me?
Shall I weep blood? why, you have wept such store
That all your body was one door.
Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, sold?
'Tis but to tell the tale is told.
My God, my God, why do you part from me?
Was such a grief as cannot be.
Shall I then sing, skipping your doleful story,
And side with your triumphant glory?
Shall thy strokes be my stroking? thorns, my flower?
Thy rod, my posie? cross, my bower?
But how then shall I imitate you, and
Copy your fair, though bloody hand?
Surely I will revenge me on your love,
And try who shall victorious prove.
If you do give me wealth, I will restore
All back unto you by the poor.
If you do give me honor, men shall see,
The honor does belong to thee.
I will not marry; or, if she be mine,
She and her children shall be thine.
My bosom friend, if he blaspheme your Name,
I will tear thence his love and fame.
One half of me being gone, the rest I give
Unto some Chapel, die or live.
As for your passion--But of that anon,
When with the other I have done.
For your predestination I'll contrive,
That three years hence, if I survive,
I'll build a hospice, or mend common ways,
And mend mine own without delays.
Then I will use the works of your creation,
As if I used them but for fashion.
The world and I will quarrel; and the year
Shall not perceive, that I am here.
My music shall find you, and every string
Shall have his attribute to sing;
That all together may accord in thee,
And prove one God, one harmony.
If you shall give me wit, it shall appear,
If you have given it me, 'tis here.
Nay, I will read your book, and never move
Till I have found therein your love,
Your art of love, which I'll turn back on thee:
O my dear Saviour, Victory!
Then for your passion---I will do for that---
Alas, my God, I know not what.

George Herbert

Season of the Soul: Prayer (1)

For a most beautiful graphic presentation of this poem by Cheshire Poet Laureate 2006, Andrew Rudd, please go here

Prayer (I)
Prayer the Church's banquet, Angels' age,
God's breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth;
Engine against th' Almighty, sinners' tower,
Reverséd thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-days world transposing in an hour,
A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
Exalted Manna, gladness of the best,
Heaven in ordinary, man well dressed,
The Milky way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood,
The land of spices; something understood.

George Herbert

Alone: a meditation

Ancient Native Cypress - Mutawintji

Photo by Denis Wilson, Nature of Robertson

ALONE

a poem by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

Season of the Soul: Lent 2

Lenten Theme:
What is a fool for Christ
Fool Prayer
by Beth McLean
inspired by the Ash Wednesday Liturgy
from A Prayer Book fro Australia.

Lord, make me a 'fool' for you.

Lord, as I set out into this Lent season,

help me to let go of the things that weigh me down.

Let me believe in the love you have for me.

A love deeper than I can imagine.

Transform me

Readings

Genesis 15: 1-12, 17-18

Psalm 27

Philippians 3:17-4:1

Luke 13:31-35

Psalm 27
A Psalm of David.

1 The LORD is my light and my salvation;

Whom shall I fear?

The LORD is the strength of my life;

Of whom shall I be afraid?

2 When the wicked came against me

To eat up my flesh,

My enemies and foes,

They stumbled and fell.

3 Though an army may encamp against me,

My heart shall not fear;

Though war may rise against me,

In this I will be confident.

4 One thing I have desired of the LORD,

That will I seek:

That I may dwell in the house of the LORD

All the days of my life,

To behold the beauty of the LORD,

And to inquire in His temple.

5 For in the time of trouble

He shall hide me in His pavilion;

In the secret place of His tabernacle

He shall hide me;

He shall set me high upon a rock.

6 And now my head shall be lifted up

above my enemies all around me;

Therefore I will offer sacrifices of joy in His tabernacle;

I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the LORD.

7 Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice!

Have mercy also upon me, and answer me.

8 When You said, “Seek My face,”

My heart said to You,

“Your face, LORD, I will seek.”

9 Do not hide Your face from me;

Do not turn Your servant away in anger;

You have been my help;

Do not leave me nor forsake me,

O God of my salvation.

10 When my father and my mother forsake me,

Then the LORD will take care of me.

11 Teach me Your way, O LORD,

And lead me in a smooth path,

because of my enemies.

12 Do not deliver me to the will of my adversaries;

For false witnesses have risen against me,

And such as breathe out violence

13 I would have lost heart, unless I had believed

That I would see the goodness of the LORD

In the land of the living.

14 Wait on the LORD;

Be of good courage,

And He shall strengthen your heart;

Wait, I say, on the LORD!

The following commentary is from a Jewish perspective and relates to the recitation of the Psalm 27 at Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

Why is this psalm an important part of the spiritual preparation for the High Holidays?
By Rabbi Benjamin J. Segal
Why was Psalm 27 added to the liturgy preparing us for the High Holidays?

What follows is a modern interpretation of how this psalm evokes the many nuances of our relationship with God,

all of which come to the fore during the High Holidays.

Elul is the month of preparation and shofar blowing. The name of the month has been understood to be an acronym for the Hebrew verse "I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine." During Elul we read Psalm 27, "To David - the Lord is my light," twice daily. This practice is relatively new, evidently some 200 years old. But it is a wise practice, even essential.

The first half of the psalm bespeaks assurance. The psalmist, while describing the enemy from a distance (from whom will I be afraid), approaching (as evil men come near), preparing (should an army besiege me), and attacking (should war come against me), nevertheless is calm, above all danger, sacrificing and thanking the Lord. The opening structure reflects both the growing threat and its total disappearance. The first three verses increase numerically: two parallel phrases of five words each, then six, then seven (that number hinting at completion). There follows the central word of the psalm, One. Facing all these threats, the psalmist feels the peace of unity, and throughout this first half the reader senses no doubt, no real threat.

How strange it is that the second half of the psalm depicts a world so totally opposite. (Many scholars even conclude that these are separate psalms!) Here we find a desperate search, a constant request, a pleading before the Holy One ("do not hide Your face ... do not thrust [me] aside ... do not forsake me, do not abandon me"). The author is abandoned by parents and surrounded by enemies. At the apex of this section, the psalmist cries out in agony, with a sentence he cannot finish, for it depicts the worst of all: Had I not the assurance that I would enjoy the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living .... His faith is his sole remaining thread connecting him to the land of the living. If he did not have this faith, then ...

But the two psalms are indeed one. Hebrew roots carefully repeated in the two halves testify to unity, as does the clear inclusion: the name of God opens and closes the first half (The Lord is my light ... a hymn to the Lord) and the second (Hear O Lord ... look to the Lord).

Throughout the second half, the reader hears the echo of the central term: One. The psalmist cries out, demands, asks and pleads that his two worlds are one. I, the sufferer, depressed to the ultimate limits, am that same I who trusts, who is safe, who sits in the presence of the Lord.

For us, this is ideal preparation. Before we can approach repentance or the joy of the Holiday, we must honestly confront again our own faith and belief. Ever since our father Abraham, we have anticipated the rewards of God's protection, but too often we have seen our trials and tribulations as challenges to our faith. The psalmist testifies once again that love of the Holy One is achieved, not by closing one's eyes, but, even as with less significant loves, through effort, honesty, and open confrontation.

The psalm demands oneness, reflecting an integration of most difficult circumstances together with security. The psalmist is model, puzzle, and challenge to us, for he did not hide from life's troubles on one hand, and yet lives within a framework of faith on the other. Reciting this psalm demands that twice a day we struggle with ourselves and our faith, in expectation that we will arrive at the Days of Awe ready for repentance, ready to celebrate on the holiday with a full heart before the Lord.

In Elul, we renew our faith through search, as is also reflected in the modern midrash on this psalm, "One have I demanded of the Lord, that I shall seek: I seek only that forever I will demand the one, demand the oneness, demand the unity, from the Lord."

Rabbi Benjamin J. Segal is president of

Melitz, the Center for Zionist Jewish Education, Jerusalem.

Seasons of the Soul: Constancy

In the Language of Flowers, bluebells are constancy

CONSTANCY

Who is the honest man?
He that does still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbor, and himself most true:

Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind:

Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but does calmly stay,
Till he the thing and the example weigh:
All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he does pay.

Whom none can work or woo
To use in any thing a trick or sleight;
For above all things he abhors deceit:
His words and works and fashion too
All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

Who never melts or thaws
At close temptations: when the day is done,
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run:
The sun to others writes their laws,
And is their virtue; Virtue is his Sun.

Who when he is to treat
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway,
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way:
Whom others faults do not defeat;
But though men fail him, yet his part does play.

Whom nothing can procure,
When the wide world runs bias from his will,
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill,
This is the Mark-man, safe and sure,
Who still is right, and prays to be so still.

Seasons of the Soul: The Sacrifice (2)

Ecce Homo - Lovis Corinth - 1925

THE SACRIFICE (2)

Judas, do you betray me with a kiss?
Can you find hell about my lips? and miss
Of life, just at the gates of life and bliss?
Was ever grief like mine?

See, they lay hold on me, not with the hands
Of faith, but fury: yet at their commands
I suffer binding, who have loosed their bands
Was ever grief like mine?

All my Disciples fly; fear puts a bar
Between my friends and me. They leave the star,
That brought the wise men of the East from far.
Was ever grief like mine?

Then from one ruler to another bound
They lead me; urging, that it was not sound
What I taught: Comments would the test confound.
Was ever grief like mine?

The Priest and rulers all false witness seek
’Gainst him, who seeks not life, but is the meek
And ready Paschal Lamb of this great week:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then they accuse me of great blasphemy,
That I presumed to be the Deity,
Who never thought that any robbery:
Was ever grief like mine?

Some said, that I the Temple to the floor
In three days razed, and raiséd as before.
Why, he that built the world can do much more:
Was ever grief like mine?

Then they condemn me all with that same breath,
Which I do give them daily, unto death.
Thus Adam my first breathing rendereth:
Was ever grief like mine?

They bind, and lead me unto Herod: he
Sends me to Pilate. This makes them agree;
But yet their friendship is my enmity:
Was ever grief like mine?

Herod and all his bands do set me light,
Who teach all hands to war, fingers to fight,
And only am the Lord of Hosts and might:
Was ever grief like mine?

Herod in judgment sits, while I do stand;
Examines me with a censorious hand:
I him obey, who all things else command:
Was ever grief like mine?

George Herbert

Seasons of the Soul: A fool for Christ

Ash Wednesday Cross

by

master craftsman and member of the Mansfield Parish, Gary Bernhardt

outside St Paul's Cathedral, cnr Flinders & Swanston Streets, Melbourne.

Thoughts for Ash Wednesday Service '07

Preached by Rev Susanne Chambers at the Church of St Thomas, Upper Ferntree Gully

Wednesday 21 February 2007

Today at St Paul’s Cathedral there was a special Ash Wednesday service which included a giant cross carved from wood burnt in the recent bushfires. The cross is alpine ash from the back of Timber Top. As you know, Mansfield, Jamieson and Merrijig and surrounding areas, were on full fire alert day after day throughout December and January, leading to a high level of anxiety and fear--------- combined with community spirit and outreach.

The vicar of Mansfield, Chris Huxtable, said the visual symbol of the cross recognises the suffering of the Victorian countryside, in partnership with the prayers of the city. Quote: “I can see the direct parallels with the Easter story. The high country has been crucified by the fires. There has been devastation for the people and the environment. The cross made from suffering wood stands in the middle of this and it speaks to me of Jesus being in the midst of our community”.

When we speak of Ash Wednesday, most members of our community think of the Ash Wednesday fires. In conversation, we then add the church’s reason for Ash Wednesday.
They usually look bewildered/politely nodding/but think we are a bit potty!

Ash Wednesday the beginning of our Lenten time together, as we grow through/ go through lent to Easter Day!

Maybe they are right in thinking we are a bit mad…look at the man we follow! At an early age around 30ish, he headed straight to his death..to Jerusalem….to Golgotha…some would say ‘what a fool!’ and he did it for all people? People he didn’t even know? Why? To give them a chance for new life. To show them a different way to live their lives.

Palm Sunday this year is on April Fool’s day….

seems to me to be an interesting theme to take up!!
Is Christ a fool?
Are we fool’s for Christ’s sake?

Tonight when we pray the litany of penitence, let the words creep past any barriers you may have built up. Open yourself up to new possibilities!! To new life not only for yourself, but for future generations…your grandchildren and mine…for the environment….for relationships of different cultures… let’s be open to not just pray for rain, but first say sorry for the mess we have added in our small corner to the changing weather conditions. Let’s be honest to God and to ourselves.

Ah …but is this just foolish talk??
Maybe….but I am a fool for Christ…are you?

Seasons of the Soul: Praise (II)

Praise (II)
King of Glory, King of Peace,
I will love you:
And that love may never cease,
I will move you.

You have granted my request,
You have heard me:
You did note my working breast,
You have spared me.

Therefore with my utmost art
I will sing you,
And the cream of all my heart
I will bring you.

Though my sins against me cried,
You did clear me;
And alone, when they replied,
You did hear me.

Seven whole days, not one in seven,
I will praise you.
In my heart, though not in heaven,
I can raise you.

You grew'st soft and moist with tears,
You relented:
And when Justice called for fears,
You dissented.

Small it is, in this poor sort
To enroll thee:
Even eternity is to short
To extol thee.

George Herbert

Miss Eagle's Evening Prayer

Photography by Denis Wilson of The Nature of Robertson

EVENING PRAYER

Lord,
I look back upon the day you have given me and give you thanks.
This day has been your creation and your gift to me.
You have lived your life to-day through me.

I confess that I have not lived up to the potential
You have graced for me to-day.
There were the unthinking words,
The careless thoughts,
The unmindful actions.
There were the things I should have done and didn’t do.

I confess that I have still to learn completely what is meant
By loving you with all my heart, my soul, my might, my strength.
I still have not given as much love and respect to my neighbour
As I give to myself.

Lord,
I commit the close of this day to you
And place myself in your arms as I sleep.
Keep me safe in you;
Guide my sleeping thoughts and dreams
To glorify you.

If it be your will to give me another day on this earth,
So pour out your grace, your teaching, and your discipline
Into my life that I might be a fit servant of your Kingdom –
A doer of your Word and not a hearer only.

Write your word on my heart,
Put your praise on my lips,
And your strength in my spirit
As I close my eyes in your care.

Seasons of the Soul: A wreath

A WREATH

A wreathed garland of deservèd praise,

Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give,

I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways,

My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,—

Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight,

Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee,

To Thee, who art more far above deceit,

Than deceit seems above simplicity.

Give me simplicity, that I may live,

So live and like, that I may know Thy ways,

Know them and practise them : then shall I give

For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.

George Herbert

A Fool for Christ

Photo by Beth McLean, Community of Faith, St Thomas Anglican Church, Upper Ferntree Gully

Miss Eagle is part of the Community of Faith which gathers at St Thomas's at Upper Ferntree Gully in the south-eastern suburbs of Melbourne, Australia.

To-morrow is the first day of Autumn in the southern hemisphere as can be seen by the beautiful golden leaves.

Photo by Beth McLean, Community of Faith, St Thomas Anglican Church, Upper Ferntree Gully

The theme for Lent at St Thom's is "A Fool for Christ".

St Thom's priest, Susanne Chambers, has opened the pulpit to a number of guest speakers during Lent.

They are listed below and will speak at two services each day: 8.00am and 9.30am.

Lent 2
Sunday 4 March
The Rev’d Jonathan Chambers

Senior Chaplain, Anglican Criminal Justice Ministry, Victoria/Anglicare Victoria

Lent 3
Sunday March 11

David Spitteler, Facilitator of The Asylum Seekers Centre (Dandenong)

Lent 4
Sunday March 18

Marlene McGrath, Spiritual Director, Heart of Life Spirituality Centre

Lent 5
Sunday March 25

Andrew McGowan, (for more see here), Warden of Trinity College, Melbourne

Seasons of the Soul: Repentance

Repentance by Randall M. Hasson

For more details go here.

Repentance
Lord, I confess my sin is great;
Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat
With your quick flower, your momentary bloom;
Whose life still pressing

Is one undressing,
A steady aiming at a tomb.

Man's age is two hours work, or three:
Each day does round about us see.
Thus are we to delights: but we are all

To sorrows old

If like be told
From what life feels of Adam's fall.

O let your height of mercy then
Compassionate short-breathéd men.
Cut me not off for my most foul transgression

I do confess

My foolishness;
My God, accept of my confession.

Sweeten at length this bitter bowl,
Which you have poured into my soul;
Your wormwood turn to health, winds to fair weather:
For if you stay,
I and this day,
As we did rise, we die together.

When you for sin rebuke each man,
Forthwith he waxeth woe and wan:
Bitterness fills our bowels; all our hearts
Pine, and decay,
And drop away,
And carry with them th’ other parts.

But you will sin and grief destroy;
That so the broken bones may joy,
And tune together in a well-set song,
Full of His praises,
Who dead men raises.
Fractures well cured make us more strong.

George Herbert