This is an offering I posted a few years ago which seems even more relevant today as many churches grapple with deeply felt justice issues. May we learn to bend without breaking.
in the waning winter sun
I spot His Majesty Maximiliano Mallard
and chat him up from a distance.
“Oh, you exquisite gift! Look at that magnificent head gleaming
now emerald, now sapphire in the sun. Your rich chestnut chest
precedes you, as well it should. Thank you, friend.”
He waddles close, quacking in time to kissing sounds
(surely sounded by some silly passerby)
He turns his head sideways to check me out.
Then called away by the flock,
He collects his mate who waits patiently
(in the shadows)
and they are off…
too soon.
Your visitation is the recurring echo of lessons offered
heeded, exceeded and ignored.
I wanted to ask, “What is your lesson today Your Majesty?”
His voice comes to me
In the peaceful quiet of Echo Lake:
“Be content with your own best self. Strut your own stuff, girl!”
I wanted to evoke a living Presence, a palpable sense of Mystery
infusing the mother and child, the green hills, the foggy valleys,
the starry night…and ourselves.
This stunning and evocative icon gifts me with a rich array of feelings, faith and questions. It takes me to that place where you, my readers, also desire to go, so I offer you this introduction. On his website Jim offers us insight, knowledge and experience about the creation of his icon and how to use it in meditation. Many of you are involved in spiritual practices for yourselves and others. Prints can be effortlessly ordered here. I intend to hang my print above my sacred space where it can be a spirit muse for my own meditation and for those who join me in spiritual practice. Those of you active in a myriad of justice ministries, especially immigration justice, might hang a print in your office. I can see it sparking rich sharing. Greeting cards are also offered…these could be meaningful Christmas cards for friends and family this year.
My Response
Invitation to Fireworks
Can you see her there
Vibrating in the spaces between stars?
A persistent luminescent beacon, she beckons
you in and
down
deep
deeper.
Throw on her cape of lush verdant vales and flailing whales
Move with her through divine pregnant spaces
until you come to that road rarely walked.
Plant your soul-feet firmly on it and bring her home.
What was otherwise mundane and profane,
Becomes fire-infused divinity.
May our tears collect in an ocean of active compassion
“I collect all your tears. I am the God of Love. I am life.” I have been releasing tears and asking a loving god to collect them since my church shared that our pastor’s credentials are again under review for once again officiating at the marriage of a gay couple. How long must we spend energy and time on these reviews, energy and time sorely needed to do the ministry of Christianity: Loving?
Comfort and inspiration have come to me from watching the 1993 film, “Philadelphia,” the story of Andre Beckett’s struggle to receive justice from the law firm that fired him because he was a gay man dying of AIDS. This character’s integrity and courage represent hundreds of real men and women who have suffered through the stigma reserved for those who live outside familiar “norms” of society; men and women whose sacrifices now sustain others. If you missed this film or were moved by it the first time, now might be the time to visit it.
As he awakens to the unavoidable truth of his impending death, Andrew Beckett listens to the aria “La Mamma Morta,” and experiences pure ecstasy, in the sense of standing outside of oneself. He becomes one with the god who is love, who is life itself with the god who “collects his tears.” Listen. Open. Be comforted.
—————————————————————————————————————————————–
“La Mamma Morta, The Dead Mother,” is an aria from Umberto Giordano’s opera, “Andrea Chenier,” composed in 1896. It is sung by a daughter whose mother died protecting her during the upheavals of the French Revolution.
Libretto
They killed my mother at the door of my room She died and saved me. Later, at dead of night, I wandered with Bersi, when suddenly a bright glow flickers and lights were ahead of me in the dark street! I looked – My childhood home was on fire! I was alone! surrounded by nothingness! Hunger and misery deprivation, danger! I fell ill, and Bersi, so good and pure made a market, a deal, of her beauty for me – I bring misfortune to all who care for me! It was then, in my grief, that love came to me. A voice full of harmony says, “Keep on living, I am life itself! Your heaven is in my eyes! You are not alone. I collect all your tears I walk with you and support you! Smile and hope! I am Love! Are you surrounded by blood and mire? I am Divine! I am oblivion! I am the God who saves the World I descend from Heaven and make this Earth A heaven! Ah! I am love, love, love.” And the angel approaches with a kiss, and he kisses death – A dying body is my body. So take it. I am already dead matter!